Category Archives: The Park Bench -- Ben's Poetry

Beneath the Shadows

March 24, 2009

1

Beneath the shadows of an old oak tree

There lays a place of memory;

By forested shapes of swaying shades,

Where all to stillness swiftly fades;

Where solemn whispers fill red skies,

Bringing mist to languid eyes.

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Oh come, sweet girl, run away with me

From the dimming sounds of the strange city,

To the place where lifetimes swiftly pass

Neath oaken leaves and windswept grass;

We’ll catch the sunlight’s final beams

And fade away to wondrous dreams.

3

And there we’ll learn those mystic arts

Which mesmerize entwining hearts,

As sleepy stars come out to shine,

To wonder at what’s yours and mine;

And all the seasons of life and change,

We’ll watch and laugh and rearrange…

4


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The Woods and Wandering Beyond

March 24, 2009

1

These little woods I often tread,

A land aglow with words unsaid;

A bending fold of birch and pine,

Where all the thoughts of man refine

To understand the grand design.


Each morning finds me close at hand,

With fingers apt for wide demand,

That toil neath the golden hum,

While striking every longing dumb

That speaks of what I could become.


With work comes peace in simple things,

That need but small imaginings;

No solemn thoughts to far unwind

That restless soul of humankind

Who mourns a something left behind.


I seldom drift now past the way

Where all the fallen deadwoods lay,

But gather slow the warming load

The trees, each morning, have not owed,

Though give to heat my quaint abode.


But when I roam those distant routes,

My aims and all my life’s pursuits

Seem tame against the wild plain,

Idyllic in the sprinkling rain,

Convicting me of a nameless pain.


I’d lose myself in such a realm

Beyond the swaying oak and elm –

But good things wait to draw me home,

To turn my feet from where they roam,

Toward the low-lit pathway home.


How oft my feet have longed to stray

Further down that distant way –

And though it calls, still I stand here,

For worried eyes through the window peer,

And wait for me to reappear.

2



2 Comments

A Shoreline Walk

March 24, 2009

1

Whenever her golden hair falls down

And floats against her still blue eyes,

I see a shoreline of shimmering sands

By a great sparkling sea; and I find –

That I could walk that shore forever,

And be lost to something wonderful.

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A Walk

March 24, 2009

1

I walk the frozen forest path

And gather round the sticks and logs,

To bring a warming fire home

And chase away the morning fog.


My mind patrols the silent scene

And draws the distant stillness near,

And fends away the misted rays,

To bait the dawn to reappear.


If only I could wander slowly

Through the pathways of my soul;

Gather dead and dying things

That weigh against fate’s gentle pull,


Then amble backward to a place

Where death and ice have set their claws,

And light a glow of burning wood,

And watch the smoke purge every flaw.



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All Quiet, Dear City, Afar off Below

March 24, 2009

1

All quiet, dear city, afar off below;

All starry, a stranger to mourning and woe.

At nighttime your beauty is borne on the view,

To a hill where the solemn have fashioned a pew;

Who long for the substance of things now forgot,

Striving for wonders the world never sought.


At daybreak, the morning sweeps over the hills;

The sleepers arise to their differing wills;

And fill up the valley with voices below,

Of deafening folly and his whispering foe;

But heed not the rustles that linger beyond,

Reminding each soul of its common bond.


At night, to the hillside the frolicking breeze

Unfolds from the darkness of deepening seas;

And dances aloft from the slumbering gleam

Swirling the cold of terrestrial beams.

Unmindful of mortals who slumber below,

Then parting in darkness to whisper and blow.


I’ll wait for her here in the far between

Where shadow and longing have gathered unseen,

And watch as the laboring world passes by,

With fate ever casting his unhappy die.


But speak to her, city, of the twinkling view

Where oft I have wandered to gaze over you;

Speak of the softness of breezes that play

Upon the green hillsides, so far and away.

Whisper of all of the wonders I see,

And send her, dear city, to be here with me.



Also posted in Romantic Poems – 0 Comments
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