This is poem is me on my own life tow path, itching to stay on the cricket bat side not be thrown to the urban side! – The actual first line “to watch crickets bats grow” was the idea that started this whole poem…. I have to thank my dad who just happened to mention “cricket bat trees” as we took a stroll along the local canal tow-path (the Kennet & Avon canal) passing a few “willow trees” (*Cricket bats are made from willow*) – I love that old nick-name they used to have, can’t say I hear it today, sadly. – As we continued walking the whole poem was composed, the railway line that runs parallel to the canal was constantly busy with trains, which gave me all the whole urban verse! – I was actually turning my love of nature & the countryside, but knowing that life was being lost in yesterday and now I had to grow-up & be lost in the daily grind of urban life & nature would only be available when time allowed……
if only my poetry would allow my heart to stay green…..
Cricket Bats or Buddleias.
To watch cricket bats grow,
To reside where clover bestow.
The unhurried pace that grass to hay bring
To be a cuckoo, be the fisher king.
Skating without rush upon murky reflected earth,
Six foot above, a differing world, yet same earth!
To be blessed the tow path, only the chaser
i the captain. Not the acer.
To let man out speed, my own steam now
Beneath heavens of blue, alongside neighbours the only cow!
To be awaken by the choir at day-break,
Be in awe history of nature to betake
To good days where cheery folk speak, of greetings!
To see forever green, no red self-defeatings
With bright skies afore, no nimbus cloudburst
To the joyous path bestowing direction to the sunburst…….
Woolgathering, passing footnotes a slow
On the path where hooves before did tow,
With the script of ones existence to sow
To steer aright path, forgo……
Not to end where the Buddleia seed,
To out pace house-boots….., only to recede!
In bovine trunks. Full aboard.
Stuck a ships mate, for a sentence a bored!
Be in circles going, cuckoo gone. The Einstein frazzled
Satisfying only greedy felines razzled.
In a clog, abide! Narrative of tomorrow creating.
Through nettles be pushed, to end beneath, stagnating
Perceive stampedes of red, nah green. Tomorrow’s
Path, to the lustreless of nimbus and the blue of sorrows……
~ K.S Blackmore
A question for you dear reader
– Cricket bats or Buddleias……?
Comment below #towpath
Thanks for stopping by, and watching & reading my work, I really appreciate it
Please leave a comment, – I’m fairly new to this poetry writing – is it poetry I write….? And this blogging business too – does my blog have potential, is this a nice blog to stumble across & stay for a while perhaps …..? – Any advice, bad or good? I’m happy for negative comments – honestly! & of course happy comments
(Next Poetry on Film working title “Wembley Goals & Rose Petal Perfume”……stay posted 😁)