These Old Songs Poem by Edwin Brock

Edwin Brock

Dulwich / London / England

These Old Songs

Rating: 2.9


grow in the mind,
their rhymes chiming endlessly
with the sound of feet walking
or rain falling or being taken up
by garden birds, one line at a time.

Landmarks, favourite stones,
reminders of moments
that only history makes important,
we hum them down to immortality

so that now they fence us in
with the faces of lost opportunities,
and all the moons and Junes that ever were
are meadow-larking above England.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Bernard F. Asuncion 11 January 2017

Reminds me of the song THE OLD SONG sung by both DAVID POMERANZ and BARRY MANILOW+++++++++++

1 0 Reply
Anil Kumar Panda 11 January 2017

Old is always appreciated and missed for its simplicity and purity. Nice poem and Thanks for sharing.

1 0 Reply
Ratnakar Mandlik 11 January 2017

Simply superb poem relating to every one's experience and a reiteration that old is gold. Thanks for sharing it here.

1 0 Reply
Tom Allport 11 January 2017

a poem that sounds to improbable to be true? nice write though.

2 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 11 January 2017

The mind! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

1 1 Reply

Edwin Brock

Dulwich / London / England
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