Tag: childish song

New Verse for Easter

A visit to an East Kent churchyard on Easter Sunday rewarded me with a surprising sight, one which sparked ideas which are set out on this page. I have never before seen a thick, healthy, leafy rosemary bush growing upon a grave.

It made quite an impression on me and suggested the theme of my second piece of verse in this current creative spell.

Rosemary Adorns My Grave.

Rosemary adorns my grave.

Profuse cut flowers by many hands marked
My final resting place; fewer and less frequently
As time passed on and by.
Hues pure and funerary fade, vanish into earth,

Even as have I.

And left behind is mottled stone and the green
Of the thriving bush, which grew from the sprig
That struck and took so many years ago.
Plucked in sorrow from my own back garden
Planted, in love, by a solitary hand.

Whether, by chance, you visit me or your presence
Here is by design, run your fingers through
My leaves, rub one and sense
The earthy herb, this shrub, my bower,

Relict, in memoriam.

Rosemary adorns my grave.

Ben A Harvey
Easter 2018

(c) 2018, All Rights Reserved.

St Paul’s Square, B3.

This is the first sustained creative work I have delivered since 2015, I believe.

It came to life on the X14 bus on my way to visit my dentist, Dr Jalif, and was finalised on my return journey, by train, from Selly Oak to Sutton Coldfield.

I hope that you enjoy reading this work. I enjoyed writing it.

St Paul’s Square, B3.

Open field hemmed in by buildings
Workshops, forges, manufactories.
Parts of these turned into houses
For the owners wealth and riches,
For the craftsmen leather breeches,
Tools and ale and most of all
A bed and roof over their head.

Simple people with religion
Men and women all of God.
They raised a splendid place of worship
Visible from house and workshop,
Visible from home and tavern,
Reminding them of place and duty
By then the open field was gone.

Wooden box pews, songs of praise
Hymns ancient and modern.
Blight and blitz and times of plenty
Baptise, confirm, marry, bury,
Offices of life and death,
The churchyard is a garden now
To take the place of field and heath.

Ben A Harvey
24 March 2018

(C) 2018, All rights reserved.

Childish Song, No. 3 – without refrain.

Chalky alkaline blues
and pale pastel pinks
Acid reds and yellows
And every shade of green.
Every hue in nature
The spectrum and creation
Side by side, together
In the Garden I have seen.
 
Ovate, Palmate, Pinnate
Lanceolate, Digitate
Simple leaves and compound leaves
And shapes of every kind.
Every form conceivable
In endless combination,
Side by side, together
In the Garden I will find.
 
(C) Ben A Harvey
July 2013CE.

Two New Verses.

Childish Song, No.2 – without refrain.

If you ever meet somebody,
Somebody you fall in love with,
When you meet that somebody,
Surely you must tell them;

Tell them that you really love them,
Love them and adore them only:

Or however will they ever know,
Know just how you feel toward them?
How will they know that it’s alright,
Alright that they feel this way too?

Ben A Harvey
May 2013.

© Ben A Harvey. All rights reserved

Real Men: A Lament.

Real men have no manners.
Real men have no grace.
Real men never say ‘please’ or ‘thank you.’
Such things simply have no place
In a real man’s world.

Real men do not sit by bedsides.
Real men do not stay to hold your hand.
Real men’s eyes never brim with tears.
Such things – such things – have no place
In a real man’s world.

Real men go on expeditions.
Real men return after you have died.
Real men place lilies on your grave.
‘To have and to hold’ has no place
In a real man’s world.

Real men will start a charity.
Real men will raise money in your name.
Real men will say it is what you’d have wanted;
But what you wanted had no place
In a real man’s world.

Ben A Harvey
May 2013.

© Ben A Harvey. All rights reserved.

A Childish Song…

This has been kicking around inside my head for the past few days, or so.

Childish Song, No.1 – with refrain.

I do not know why the sky is blue,
It just seems this is right.
Learnèd souls will tell me how
My eyes fill with reflected light.
I wonder if I always knew
Or whether I was told –
That the sky is blue.

I do not know why a fire is hot,
It just seems to be the case.
Learnèd souls will tell me how
Radiant heat falls on my face.
I wonder if I always knew
Or whether I was told –
That a fire is hot.

I do not know why the night is dark,
It just seems that this is said.
Learnèd souls will tell me how
The Sun has gone to bed.
I wonder if I always knew
Or whether I was told –
That the night is dark.

And I do not know why love must hurt,
It just seems to be the way.
Learnèd souls will tell me how
There is nothing they can say.
‘Though I wonder if I always knew
I suspect that I was told –
That love must hurt.

Ben A Harvey

© Ben A Harvey. All rights reserved

%d bloggers like this: