I Am A Romantic

I'm currently in the Lake District, glorious part of the country, beautiful. Majestic. Sweeping. And, just as Wordsworth was those many moons ago, I have been inspired to write a poem eulogising nature and such.

On Nature

Oh babbling brook, your whispered path scythes
Through this dale.
And my heart.
Oh bumbling bee, with your wings so small
And body so big.
And my heart.
Oh skittering slate, your cracked, gnarled face
Supports my weight.
And my heart.
Oh well worn path, you guide my way
Through history.
And my heart.
Oh Sky TV with your many channels,
I never need see any of that other shit
With you doing all the babbling for the brook
And the bumbling for the bee.
I needn’t step on slate,
And I can see the path
From 32 different angles.
In HD.

I'll also point you in the direction of my Eggheads poetry trilogy in performance. (Those three words are links to the trilogy in order)

THANKS