Graham Jones Poems
Comments about Graham Jones
Fear Of The Unknown.
I come now from those foreign places
Unknown to those with hidden faces
Bedecked and different, for them to leer
As one unknown, something to fear
Am I not I that you can see?
What is the fear you see in me?
This faceless one, that makes you quake
I hold no fear its what you make
Deceive yourself if that you may
And cringe from that which spells decay
I hold no terrors in these hands
I am but a vessel to unknown lands
There is nothing to fear but fear itself
Of what, the memory of love or wealth
You will take my hand, make no mistake
The Forest Heath.
While walking round the forest heath
The night began to fall
The temperature did likewise drop
An owl began to call
Too whit, too woo, Too whit, too woo
It came both loud and clear
To echo across the barren heath
Where rodents paused in fear