john (called jack) wren Poems

It's a place where silence
has the loudest voice
from those who lie there
though not by choice
...

Sweetest of Isles I look at thee
nestled in yonder turbulent sea
shining like diamonds every day
guarding the entrance of the bay
...

Ribbon and tinsel, holly and berry
it's the festive season, time to make merry
there's cards and presents, snow on the ground
carols in church make an angelic sound.
...

Wee sleek thrower of the soil
under the ground you're made to toil
on heaps of earth we see your stamp
on meadow and wood where're you camp
...

Creeping merrily twix affable leaf
in search of her morning aperitif
this vision with the brightest of eye
smiles as she teases the Sun in the sky.
...

A quiet pool is hard to find
in places ravaged by mankind,
whose furtive deeds lie about
like litter left by thief and lout.
...

Around the bay sit meadows sweet
where cow and sheep softly roam
and meandering walls of stone compete
with ramblings of bramble and thorn.
...

As time goes by and we grow old
every wrinkle lies in its fold
the head of hair once our pride
keeps receding like the tide
...

The Goddess of Dawn spreads her arms
and gazes on the world below, then her
rosy fingers bathe the land
in a wonderful warming glow.
...

As I gently brushed aside
the outer coat of leaf
my eyes did rest most satisfied
on the pride of Spring beneath.
...