If you're here for the first time...

... hello!
This is my all-new poetry blog, packed with all-old offerings penned in the early 1990s when I was in my very late teens and early 20s.
None of these works claims to be a masterpiece, or any more deserving of your attention than anything else anyone else might have written as "poetry".
All I can say is that over years and years and despite having reassured myself this was all rubbish, I have come back and back and found some redeeming features among my inexpert lines. When I posted some up before people said they liked them, so so how you like these...

Lost

Something is lost, a precious thing is lost,
and now I have a memory of the shining.
A precious thing is lost and glitters far;
gold will gleam, but only with refining.

Uncut diamonds rarely shine,
yet you now shine to me;
and though I have not discovered you,
you shine in memory.

The Colours of...

The colours of the spent and drowsy day
are shadowed in the falling sleep of gloom,
and sunny memory withers all away
within the sleeping shell of autumn's womb.
Rememberance of the leafiness of sping
is oversealed, like cold fish in a pond,
while winter shudders every dying thing,
beating fruitless trees who blossomed fond.
I cannot understand the whispering snow.
Her melancholy wilderness wails numb
as freezing madness: and the storms that blow
have smashed the crystal saplings who succumb.
Their dappled streams dissolve in evening's light
and all around await the fall of night.

Tonight

The sky is warm tonight,
sparkle a million times:
take me into the sky,
I want to die tonight.

Let me forget this dusky tree,
the river's chuckling glee,
quivering silvers of moon,
the roses, curled into sleep;

for if I hovered where I cannot find,
in gloomy heights, some heaven
blue as seaglow, curled
like a sleeping shell;

memory should dissolve in flows of sand
and every star outstrobe
the shimmer of dawn;
no bliss of dew, only dreams,

quiet and lost beneath me.
Wave on wave suffuses
whispers of existence.
Sleep, sea breeze.

And when tomorrow clangs, don't wake me:
where I'll be, alarm
sinks under snooze,
a drop of placid sea...

I'll come down if I choose.

Hi

Hi this is my all-new poetry blog... full of old poems ~ juvenillia ~ from the years 1991, 1992 etc...