Martin King Poems

On silent, feathered wings she flies,
The angel of the western isle,
The tears that fall from soft green eyes,
Belied as always by her smile,
...

What new and fresh born day couldst turn the eye
Of those that hath borne witness to and seen
The wondrous golden light that shines within thy
Breast, the vital living beauty that is thee?
...

My heart is lost, I lost it to
Madame de la lumiére lune,
She stole it ‘neath of yonder Yew,
My heart is lost, I lost it to
...

When breath vacates my body in a sigh,
And hooded Death has clutched me to his chest,
When softly in Elysian Fields tread I,
...

Sad is the man who mourns the death of love,
Feels inside the numbness of its passing,
On his sodden hat pittering from above,
The tears of fallen angels amassing.
...