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 bird lies deep in the depths of the rye
Among its tall grass, away from the eye,
Where the morn dew clinging to a leaf
Gazed down upon it, in disbelief.
...

Masters of the art of aviation
Formation flying and navigation,
With an ability to orienteer
To parts they find less austere
...

Meet me at the meadow
Beside the old chestnut tree,
Where its boughs kiss the earth
My love, I will kiss thee.
...

Their courtship dance is a sight to be seen
Caressing the air in a yearly Spring clean,
Numerous wings sweeping in a cluster
Cleaning the air like a dainty duster.
...

Father, why have you forsaken me?
the priests detest me and laugh with houndish glee
from their cross of hate, I look to the sky
I have no one to wipe the blood from my eye.
...