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Peter Rees Poem
Speak of it not,
think of it not,
lest regrets may
cloud the failing light,
and weariness
a shroud becomes.
This little thing,
once proud in love and lust,
now hides its face
and soon it will be dust.
Gone is the lustre
and delight
of fond imaginings,
as shadows deepening
enfold what once
seemed ever bright,
impervious to
encroaching night.
Copyright © Peter Rees | Year Posted 2021
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Peter Rees Poem
screams pierce the night
primeval mating
wise owls winking
Copyright © Peter Rees | Year Posted 2023
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Peter Rees Poem
Look deep within these loosely-woven layers to find
primeval land with ocean, sky and wind entwined,
skilled hands and eyes of generations gone before
and peat smoke mingling with a sea mist on the shore.
In old and intricate design you may well sense
a solitary piper skirling a lament,
or view the purple heather blowing on the hill,
or hear soft-spoken memories echoing still.
Some bold and joyful as a vibrant summer’s day,
and others tinted as an autumn bride’s bouquet,
some speak of wilderness and yet untrodden ways,
some melancholic strangers to the sun’s sweet rays.
With insight woven and a clarity of mind,
the rhythmic textures of the land we see defined.
With colours of the seasons, each piece of cloth unique,
of planet Earth and nature’s harmony does speak.
Revered now far beyond its island home,
a homespun cloth of gold it has become.
Ambassadors for Scotland, yes indeed,
that’s whisky, Robert Burns and Harris Tweed.
Copyright © Peter Rees | Year Posted 2020
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Peter Rees Poem
I’ve never played a hole in one,
that doesn’t worry me.
I’ve never sailed around the world,
its glories for to see.
I’m not a self-made millionaire,
that doesn’t worry me.
I have no need for fancy cars
or staying in chic hotels.
I have no wish to fly to Mars
or mingle with the stars.
I have no stately country pile,
that doesn’t worry me.
Our lives we’ve lived in simple style,
together you and me.
Some sixty years have come and gone
since we walked down the aisle,
and now, with nodding age, I see
that someday we must part,
but that’s not going to worry me.
It will simply break my heart.
Copyright © Peter Rees | Year Posted 2021
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Peter Rees Poem
I never thought that one day I might be
so separate and distanced from the sea,
and grey-blue mornings offering a cloak
of cushioning velvet, where once I woke
so long ago, to watch the gannets dive
as silvered arrows from a tight-strung bow.
Those days were ever tinged with disbelief
that fate had held my hand, though all too brief,
and led me to this cherished place, where grace
and beauty did my other world replace.
It was, I know, with age now bittersweet,
the greatest gift that fortune could bestow.
In memory now I hear the ocean speak
of all its moods when, waking or asleep,
I see and hear that lifeforce long forgone.
As to its beating heart forever drawn,
I ponder on the change it wrought in me,
and things that are, and things that weren't to be.
Copyright © Peter Rees | Year Posted 2019
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Peter Rees Poem
A TOUCH
On an impulse, but oft rehearsed in dreams,
A surreptitious larceny that seems,
In recollection pure and innocent,
Yet still concealing passionate intent
And yearning, for its chaste recipient.
Unknowing of such matters of the heart,
Confused, bewildered how to even start
To woo this object of his heart's desire.
To lie within her arms he did aspire,
With ardent longing was he set afire.
At last, a start along love's road he made,
A magic moment when his hand had strayed
Innocuously to brush against her breast.
She let the moment pass without protest,
Quite unaware that she had been caressed.
Fate intervened and drove them far apart.
His amorous intent was stifled at the start.
True love he found elsewhere, he did not grudge
In age that moment that had meant so much-
Now teenage memory - a stolen touch.
Copyright © Peter Rees | Year Posted 2017
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Peter Rees Poem
Seaweed, fragmented shell as cannonballs
in maelstrom hurled upon the shore.
The bellowing wind cast all asunder
as Summer’s shoots from shifting sand were torn.
Such was Autumn’s storm.
The sleet was blown in horizontal sheets
as figures double-bent fought step by step
to make but little progress, homeward bound.
The sky was lost in billowing grey, forlorn.
Such was Winter’s storm.
Relentlessly the wind swept off the ocean
with yet more rain to swell the sodden peat.
A daily deluge on embattled land,
with hope yet stirring seeds of life newborn.
Such was Springtime’s storm.
The grey skies shift to blue, and now a breeze
is heralding a longed-for transformation.
With rainbow colours Mother Earth is blessed
and all the islands of the west caressed, reborn.
Sweet Summer knows no storm.
Copyright © Peter Rees | Year Posted 2021
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Peter Rees Poem
A peerless beauty from a distant land,
now loved in rainbow colours round the globe,
her tresses, curls and sumptuous curves delight,
she’s surely clad in Nature’s finest robe.
Copyright © Peter Rees | Year Posted 2023
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Peter Rees Poem
A session with my chiropodist
Is an occasion not to be missed.
We speak of recipes and cruise ships
And other folks' relationships
And pension plans and how to lose weight
And allergies and things we hate
And Christmas plans and hip replacements,
And politics and financial statements,
And things from childhood we remember,
Like scaredy cats on the fifth of November
And what it takes a woman to please
And whether "feet" run in families.
We talk of restaurants we have found
And matters equally profound.
Is vegetarian or vegan best
And how to handle a telephone pest ?
Am I a Remainer or for Brexit
And what to do to try and correct it ?
And what do we make of Donald Trump,
A breath of fresh air or just a chump ?
The whole world sorted in half an hour
If Debbie and I were given the power.
And when we've covered our highs and lows
We'll even talk about my toes!
Copyright © Peter Rees | Year Posted 2017
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Peter Rees Poem
Each year, an evening bright as any star,
in song and verse retells the tale once more,
with homage paid to one man’s repertoire.
Humbling and uplifting, his thoughts restore
our universal oneness, humankind
across the globe, each with each entwined.
Our frailties, joys and sorrows understood,
with love and pathos are his lines imbued.
Hands joined in celebrating brotherhood
and in our hearts enduring gratitude
for what this plain and humble man has shown,
revealing what our souls have always known.
And so, each year, we contemplate anew
this gifted ploughman and his words so wise,
partake of haggis and a dram or two,
yet mindful of the wider world outside.
To gain the peace for which the whole world yearns
feed deep upon the words of Robert Burns.
Copyright © Peter Rees | Year Posted 2023
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