I often sat in Bunhill Row,London and pondered whiling away my time or reading the gravestones, though not the "country churchyard" in my poem it is very much the inspiration of the poem.


To sit a while and ponder

To sit a while and ponder beneath a church yard's large and ancient yews,
Meditating, letting time drift by whilst taking in all gods given views,
Boughs all gnarled and twisted by the years, a silent and tranquil spot,
Centuries old the headstone barely readable the occupants mostly now forgot,
Listening to the cooing of the doves high above in the old church steeple,
Being alone with ones thoughts without the intrusion and bustle of living people.
To drift off as if in a trance, daydreaming thankful for a gentle cooling breeze,
Reflecting on all ifs and buts of life itself beneath these ancient trees.
The shadows lengthen and quickly the moon dictates that it is time to go,
Weaving through the gravestones and mausoleums our passage necessarily slow,
Another day we will return to give consideration to issues in the news,
Ever grateful for the calmness and seclusion afforded beneath the ancient yews.





Poetry by Albert
Read 971 times
Written on 2005-12-11 at 00:17

Tags Reflection  Tranquil  Beauty 

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penfold18
Well done Albert a favourite pastime of my own,and not because i'm morbid or anything,i think its the tanquility i feel just walking round graveyards so i can understand this :-)
2005-12-11