Sunday, October 30, 2005

On Visiting St Paul’s Cathedral

Heavenly Father, who in Heaven must be:
for in Wren’s cathedral, though I do see
matchless splendour, there’s no divinity.

Those angels hovering in the air
are to my willful eye passing fair.
And it will not shut itself in prayer.

The feast is laid, and the senses will dine

Pardon me, for I must stray awhile
to return that darling cherub’s smile
and to admire old architectural style

At midnight sharp, by St Paul’s clock
I shall sit by the river on the sidewalk
And there, in silence, we shall talk

You in your Heaven, and me in mine

Friday, October 28, 2005

making mischief

If no spectre of inspiration is haunting you
You can right a poem just by vaunting too

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

:'-( Part II

London by night is very grand;
but you are no longer mine.
So on Blackfriars bridge I stand
turning the Thames to brine.