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Best Poems Written by David Wood

Below are the all-time best David Wood poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Ode To a Sunflower

Nothing can compare to walking
Through a meadow of smiling sunflowers
Their warm beauty falls upon my face
As I wander silently alone among such a 
Rich company of friends

Their radiant colours of shining yellow
And brown have passed down through 
Endless eons of past summers
Their thirst quenched by the early dew
Now graced by the warm morning sun
As they try and touch the sky 

What can compare to your iridescence
Summer cannot compete with your allure
Even rainbows in the sky lose their lustre
Or bouquets of butterflies floating in the summer sun
The whole realm of nature bows down in homage
To your beauty but alas your life on Earth 
Is far too short all too soon you are gone

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Retirement

The final day done and now my Liberty Bell
No more work retirement is now for me
Others come to shake my hand to say farewell
Oh now work has just become history
I can now put my feet up and watch TV
No more listening to what the boss has to say
I can walk in the park just let life be
Is this retirement now one long holiday

My first day I achieved so much I did do well
I walked the dog for an hour for all to see
We walked in the wood where I tripped and fell
Then went to a café for a cup of tea
Drove home again behind a slow old taxi
I then watched the sunset at the end of the day
To see the moon rise over our old cherry tree
Is this retirement now one long holiday

I’ve been retired now a year you can tell
I thought in retirement I’d be happy and free
Sitting in the park I often gaze and dwell
Of times when I worked I was so happy
With a secretary so young and carefree
Now I feel like an old brewers dray
Sipping coffee at the café and eating brie
Is this retirement now one long holiday

Retirement is fine for some I think you’d agree
But I miss my colleagues that’s all I can say
With days that are long the dog my company
This retirement is no long holiday

Details | David Wood Poem

Call of the Sirens

The harbour rests from the rolling waves			
Of a windswept and tempestuous sea			
Beyond the breakwater lay sailors graves		
Where shipwrecks in eternal sleep rest free		
Once lured upon the rocks they didn’t see		
Now ghosts of sailors take their endless rest		
With sirens haunting cries, their bemoaning plea		
Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest		

Yachts now moored, as their owners misbehaves	
In dim lit cabins with lovers on their knee		
Pink gin’s at sunset and acting like knaves		
While jealous husbands spy hiding on the quay		
And lovers sit on their boats drinking Chablis		
Other yachts sit forlorn not looking their best		
Their days spent at sea, with the call of the siren’s banshee	
Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest		

Fishing boats chug past, their crew now waves	
At those waiting for their catch with impish glee	
On the quayside, fish, their customers now craves	
And the fee for their catch they readily agree		
Then having a meal completely buckshee		
The fishermen go home for a well-earned rest		
No more trawling, hearing sirens or wailing kelpie		
Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest  		

Life in the harbour for some is all but carefree			
Yet for others it may not be so heaven blest		
As they sail troubled seas where sirens can be		
Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest

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The Shepherdess

A shepherdess with a lamb to her breast
Against a dry stone wall on a windy hill
She cradles it with love so truly blessed

Over steep Welsh hills they roam best
Hardy hill sheep bred to wander at will  
A shepherdess with a lamb to her breast

Long fleeces waving in springs unrest
Bleating lambs at teats taking their fill	
She cradles it with love so truly blessed 

A brooding landscape the ultimate test
The valley below a patchwork sits still
A shepherdess with a lamb to her breast

Her love is her flock she tenders with zest
Caring for her lambs with love and skill
She cradles it with love so truly blessed

A shepherdess her lambs so caressed
Her life with her sheep is always a thrill
A shepherdess with a lamb to her breast
She cradles it with love so truly blessed

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Blackberries

Autumn
Chilly evenings
Windswept leaves on the ground
Picking blackberries in the hedge
Tasty

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A Christmas Dream

I remember when I was young
When fine Christmas Carols would be sung
I’d go to bed with such sweet dreams
Of presents and toys and all that gleams
Of Santa’s reindeer and his sleigh
Of toy cars and trains to make my day
A Christmas stocking just for me
And presents under a Christmas tree

Those were the days so full of joy
When I was just a little boy
That was many years ago
An age when the pace of life was slow

Now is a time of austerity
No more gifts under the Christmas tree
Of homeless sleeping in doorways
And asylum seekers in a daze

Babe’s born in an African drought
Born only to die and all for nowt’ 
A time when kindness has been lost
A time when all hopes and dreams were tossed

Of climate change and corp'rate greed
Ignoring the plight of those in need
Of wars and battles fought for oil
The poor working with blood, sweat and toil
 
I now dream what I want to see
A Christmas that brings hope to many
That kindness will soon reappear
And give hope to all and dispel fear
So one and all can come to see
That there is hope for humanity
This dream I have will not walk by
A dream of hope that will never die

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A Climate of Change

We didn't go abroad this year, we had our summer holiday
Here in the UK where it had rained all summer long.
We scuba dived in the sea but it was dead, devoid of all
Life; we walked the coastal path to where the bungalow
Fell in the sea last year, near to the wreck of the oil tanker
That ran aground in a winter storm.

On the only dry day we had we went for a picnic sitting
In a meadow beneath an oak tree but there were no wild
Flowers, and no bees either; even the Holly Blue's didn't show.
Only the soft noise of fracking in a nearby field. Cows that once
Graced that field now stand farting and eating their lives away
In a shed that's part of a factory farm.

On our last day we sat in the cafe eating cod and
Chips, cod caught in the Irish Sea loaded with
Caesium 137 and strontium 90 that had been seeping
Out of Sellafield nuclear power station over the years.
We could have had the Pacific tuna irradiated from the
Fukushima fall-out but preferred the cod.

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Prologue To Spring

A frozen winter’s chill hangs in the air
Icy landscape under a cold clear blue sky
Frosty branches point skyward accusingly.

The cold brittle air catches in the throat
As if it is about to break in two as
Winter casts its frigid cape all around.

The golden leaves of autumn are now brown,
Crumpled underfoot, or turn to wet mush 
Beneath the bare trees standing like sentinels.

What can break the spell of winters grasp?
What magic can turn the season around?
Or is it better now to hibernate?

As frosty air rises over the lakes,
February is such a cruel sad month,
The heart of winter, yet a prologue to Spring.


In memory of Sylvia Plath 1932 – 11 Feb 1963

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Dawn

Dawn’s birth
Nightingales sing
Sleepy bluebells waken
Sparrows bathe in the morning dew
New day

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Damn Noise

Wind chimes
Dance in the breeze
But after a short while 
The bloody things get on my nerves
Damn noise