Neil Young

Neil Young Poems

Curving now
And moving fast,
The wave rolls higher than the dead of war.
...

Lorimer's monument
Punctuates ‘The Lines'.His
Upturned exclamation

...

The earth, played out, seems forged with fear,
It bristles, stiffens, slowly fades
With introspection. Through the blear,
In our unease we move, bowed heads;
...

Shades are deeper here, less
Subtle than Aldeburgh;
This murky northern coast.
...

Here in Lake Havasu, it seemed strange,
The two of us strolling over London Bridge;
That Mary Poppins skyline long erased.
...

Thunder!
Purring like a thirty-two;
Storm-clouds,
Sagging, humourless and bleak;
...

little light… shining… her soft voice pleads… each piano shard cold and biting

dark October races by… out there a distant light ignites her words
this school exchange… we take the night train… Moscow to St. Petersburg
...

Silent until opened,
Perhaps more softly spoken than we thought,
Or loud, somewhat aggressive,
Uncompromised and unapologetic.
...

Our brooding, blue-grey visage slowly moves.
Below us, telegraphs, whose bronze wires thread
Their pensive silence, stitched from pole to pole,
Await the tickle conversation makes;
...

The language that he reads is esoteric;
Not hieroglyphs, yet symbols of high art;
Pages of black code that proffer colour,
Transcending each mathematical part.
...

Gnarled trunks rise up in lines like Gothic shafts of stone,
While underneath the weight of sky their branches groan.
Faint psalmody, those soughing leaves are clearer seen
Than understood; they quiver in a vault of green,
...

12.

Slowly stretching my unexplored arm
On the land, I feel nature reclaim
It. I weave across all I have known,
Whose past settles in bright afternoon.
...

While rain on old Saint Mary’s church poured down,
Those opened doors invited us inside.
Creatively designed, the flowers grown
Filled all the dusty corners. Just beside
...

i. Rosace

Some forgotten grace
Lights the window's leaded face
...

Mind turns in on itself;
Collapses under grief,
Emasculated shock;
Look where you dared not look.
...

Out there, March fields wear daffodils;
Each trembling mouth mimicking
Your nervous, shallow breathing.
...

i.

Our naked bodies,
Flushed and warm, fold together;
...

i. Christmas Eve

Ill in bed, he sleeps;
His dreams, white as linen sheets.
...

In three-four time, I count each crotchet beat
And watch your bloodshot sun go down.

I hear Budd's three note motif, rising
...

Neil Young Biography

I come from Liverpool, England. I have written poetry for many years and some of these poems appear here and in my first book 'Neptune & other poems'. Though often reluctant to publish my work, some pieces have appeared in print before. Aside from writing, my interests include music, art, architecture, film, theatre and travel. My favourite poets include T.S. Eliot, Ian Hamilton, Geoffrey Hill, Philip Larkin, Adam O'riordan, Edward Lucie-Smith, Sylvia Plath, Neil Powell, A.S.J. Tessimond, Derek Walcott and Tom Warner to name but a few. In another life, I have recorded, edited and produced several organ music CDs for organist friends. I am currently working on the remaining few unfinished poems for my second book 'Departures' and two side projects 'Motives' and '17 syllables' which are coming on well and look set to be completed for publication in autumn 2025. Poems marked by a double asterisk are to be included in 'Departures'. Poems marked by a triple asterisk are from '17 syllables' and a quadruple asterisk are from 'Motives'. The 'Motives' poems appear here in a compromised layout due to limitations of the poemhunter website. As an aside to poetry, in July 2024, I released a minimalist nine track EP called Bidston Hill. A soundtrack to accompany an imaginary film. This can be found on Bandcamp. The recordings however link to a selection of haiku I wrote about landmarks that feature there, including an observatory, a dead tree, a footbridge, a lighthouse and a windmill. I am great believer that: 'Where everything is bad, it must be good to know the worst...')

The Best Poem Of Neil Young

Neptune*

Curving now
And moving fast,
The wave rolls higher than the dead of war.

Growing now,
Gathering on
The tip of foam, a line of horses heads.

Faster now,
Their bodies formed
Of frothing wave exude quick-scented madness.

Wilder now,
They touch the shore.
Webbed feet and white legs strong, race on in anger.

Smaller now,
Their manes dissolve
In sand; their bubble-eyes wash shell, wash hand.

Inches deep
These figures melt,
Retreat, with cursing eyes for wars deceit.

Further out,
Impulsive lines
Raise helpless heads, come charging to their death.

Neil Young Comments

Tracy 17 February 2020

Hi Neil. Just checking in. Can you give me a call when you can? Tracy (07488338590)

0 0 Reply

sounds really great. you are showing your emotions nice. you will have great future in poetry. i invite you to read my poems. as a friendly look.

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oguz Anil 19 October 2009

Tks alot Mr.Neil Young tks

0 0 Reply
oguz Anil 19 October 2009

Thanks alot mr.Young profound writing i enjoyed them very much so tks

0 0 Reply
oguz Anil 19 October 2009

Thanks alot mr diamond enjoyed to read them all profound masterpiece from a master

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