Through undulating borderlands Beneath the shadow of the dyke, Borrowed water slowly slips Cradled soft in clodding clay; Past Tenbury Wells Ludlow, Leominster; Deep in benign backwaters, Recirculating sedimentary flow of Quiet, unhurried Teme. A seeping vein, sunk Low in storied earth, Snaking slow and sinuous, A rising sap to bless the Fruitful burdened boughs, Silent stands …
My late grandfather the Rev. Edward Keyes, was a rural parish priest, a poet and a composer. He had deep sensitivity for the human condition, for the quiet beauties of nature, and for the mysteries of transcendence. These priorities spill out in two volumes of poetry, published late in his life: Intimations and A Few Late Leaves. …
[I keep coming back to Nietzsche’s aphorism about the madman, from where the famous “God is dead” phrase originates. I’m struck by how extraordinary clear-sighted Nietzsche was about all the societal changes that began racing down the tracks towards us once we lost our transcendent reference points. This poem is something of a meditation on …
