Above the usual ill-bred sounds
of Buxton, queen of tactless towns;
he heard (which made his sad thoughts drift)
the screaming of a sailing swift.
Above the rooftops, on the wing,
it ducked and dived like airborne king.
And he was shook by shock and awe
when it was joined by many more.
Above the hopeless hoi polloi,
this flight formation foisted joy
upon this man, out on a limb,
with wife, his sweetest synonym.
Above the usual ill-bred noise,
thank God there's Nature's jarring joys
to bless, when all around is cursed
by low-bred louts, uncouth, unversed.
-
Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 26th, 2021 07:45
- Comment from author about the poem: Rise Above!
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet, aDarkerMind
Offline)
Comments6
Beautiful:
'this flight formation foisted joy'
- a wonderful line. I'm not far from Buxton myself 🖤
Many thanks. (Buxton in the High Peak, not Buxton in Norwich or Buxton in the USA. lol. ) Thanks again for taking the time to read poor little rhymes.
Haha yes, was the one I meant too!
A joyous pleasure to read Kevin.
Thank you AP. Glad you liked.
Good write, Kevin.
Thank you, Jerry. Hope you are well.😉
a very impressive write Kevin.
Swifts are so wonderful to be among.
Andy
A fascinating read. Yes, there's plenty of nature to enjoy in Derbyshire
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