Did You Hear the Song Bird Singing?

Did you hear the song bird
singing in the meadow?
A melody meant for no one's ears
save for his heart's affection.

Where she was, he did not know
but he loved her with his heart -
and heard or unheeded as he may be,
the song bird still calls in the meadow.

- Adam Taylor Green, 2012

An Empty Riverbed

I came across an empty riverbed
and a quiet trickling stream
with little pebbles gold and brown
like treasure, buried underneath.
Water rippling round each tiny stone
nature's subtle rhythm
and flowing undertone.
I felt the quiet in the air
as wind rushed gently through the trees-
this sweet melody composed
to the dribble, drabble of the stream
Ebbing to and fro in wandering ways
down the empty riverbed
its beauty made by sunlit rays.

- Adam Taylor Green, 2012

Pain

I know that the winds blow harshly,
sheer gails that rip at trees
and throw them from their roots.
A fire that burns fast
and hastens to destroy
that which is dear to you.

I know that words do hurt,
like cruel arrows shafted
straight into your heart,
and betrayal breaks
whatever else you hold.

But storm clouds come
with healing rain
as thunderclaps resound -
“The pain, the pain
may drive you away
but remember
the lost can be found.”

- Adam Taylor Green, 2012

A Samurai

I stood there, muscles strained and tense
as cold rain dripped down my sword like silk
and sent a shiver down my spine -
but I kept my strength, watching
as a brave warrior went forth
his hand at his side, ready to draw blade
his eyes glistening, calm with quiet intensity.
And as foreboding clouds slowly billowed over
with the heavy scent of rain
with the deep, distant thunder rumbling,
I realized in that moment
that these were the eyes of our brave warrior
now midfield between two armies.

He stood there, resolute,
the strongest of our clan’s warriors
showing to the enemy a pressing confidence
that one only ever earns in battle.
We watched the lines for some sort of challenge -
perhaps they too had a hero of their own
to face ours in true warrior’s fashion.

And from the battle lines issued forth a single man
some warrior monk, wielding sword and spear,
cloaked in white religious robes
wearing plain unpainted wood armor -
and while I could not see his face,
I knew that this man was an honorable foe.

The air was uneasy but quiet
as we watched for an eternity for the moment
when two great warriors would meet in battle,
to decide the fate of two great armies.

With frightful cry, both warriors charged at once and met
as sword flashed like lightning against thrusting spear
when in just one moment’s loss
both warriors paused
as one fell to the ground
giving words of honor
wishing he had only
held on to life
just a little
longer.

- Adam Taylor Green, 2012

Perhaps

Perhaps… the heart aspires beyond its ability to attain
noble intentions, found false for wayward gain
pain inflicted on part of hate
and love lost to cowardly silence -
perhaps we all need a divine hand
to save us from humanity.

- Adam Taylor Green, 2012

Raindrops

 Rain drops pitter-patter quietly
on the old black shingled roof
and the rain sends shivers down my back
as it drips gently
down a clear glass window pane
off to who-knows-where.

- Adam Taylor Green, 2012

The Warm, Hot Summer Wind

It was the young, warm summer grass
the heated summer breeze;
I walked upon the grassy hill,
a horse grazed near the trees.

***

The warm wind was pleasant
and my heart was at peace,
as some birds sang in the evergreen trees
and bright rays of sun hit my back.

***

So I lay there on that quiet hill
on the warm, dry summer grass,
and thought what a blessing it was -
to simply be.


- Adam Taylor Green, 2012

Sorrow Sits Uneasy

Sorrow sits uneasy
so long since any peace
so long since any feelings strong
her stricken heart gone numb
She breathes out the burden with a sigh.

Shed a single tear, her river flows and wanes
as sorrows washed anew away
in truly such a static state
ah, such is life!
an endless circle
just like the ring he promised!
and so she’ll seek, so she’ll search for more.

She sips her coffee quietly
a bitter taste, her soul intently
searching for an answer
embittered and battered heart as hers -
bruised, broken, shattered.

Sorrow sits uneasy
so long since any peace
for true love commands her heart
and, so often, true love is silent.


Adam Taylor Green, 2012

It Falls Like Leaves On Deaf Ears

I walked with God among the shaded evergreens
in the quiet of the whispering breeze
in the fine grey morning mist
and the sun shone through the trees.

***

He looked at me with love in His eyes
though I dare not look back
and He reassured my soul
that this would last.

***

I walked with God among the shaded evergreens
where my heart burned with passion
where I remembered Christ's blood,
and saw it in the wind like auburn leaves.

***

In this quiet peace and restfulness
I yearned for nothing more than this
He said "Go now, for it is not yet time
and the World will need you more."

***

And waking, I heard a song like none before
with words that would make poets mourn
and thought, how often
it falls on deaf ears.


- Adam Taylor Green, 2012

Love and War

Far from the Parisian Pavillon,
in the golden glory of its playwrights and poets
(love, first learned in the lady’s eye)

***

Hemmed in on all sides is my humble, stone château,
contained by the cold blue waves of the sea.
Come, forgive the mess, and stay for a while:
Lets have dinner, what will it be?
Let me bring you cold wine, hard cheese,
and perhaps a crust of bread.

***

I must confess, I know more Bonaparte than La Belle Cordière,
and have spent many hours hearing the doleful, quiet sea.
(shall we dance, madame, cotillion or quadrille?)

***

This military man,
I met on an anonymous journey,
but parted ways thereafter,
lest he betray me to Château d’lf.

***

So let the the battle snares play on, love, and the battle commence.
For I’ve found my song, found my war, and found my prize.


- Adam Taylor Green, 2012

For Those Who Want To Hear

The warm hearth is for the lonely
and the poet’s pen for words
that warm the hearts of those too long out in the cold
too long numbed by the dulness of inhumanity.

 ***

You watched the sky and wondered -
longing to see the heavens
grasping the imperfect permanence that is humanity.
But you were made for eternal perfection.

***

So hear the words of long ago -
by their legion standard stood proud soldiers
they shouted words both noble and daring
but they were words of hate.

***

And hear the words of men of peace -
humility engraved in their hearts
marked by love for countryland.
Abandoned, an inconvenience.

***

These words were written for those who listen.
And as for those who have been willing to hear,
man pours out his heart, on paper and ink.


- Adam Taylor Green, 2012

Alone

To look out from a window
on a quiet Fall afternoon
across the lonely London street
and beyond the quiet park -
The wind whispers round the leaves.

***

Sitting on the bench, a man
who reads his papers quietly,
his faithful friend at side.
A couple strolls around the block
their young child in a carriage -
The murmur of their voices.

***

On this quiet afternoon,
I sit and watch
And hear stray notes
an aspiring pianist upstairs -
The sound of jazz piano against still air.

***

I could stay here for a long while
though, perhaps, not forever.


- Adam Taylor Green,

Journey

Cold waves mark out the empty expanse of night sky -
thunderous vibrations
sharp, hard blasts of wind and rain
against this, a steady heart and steady hand.

***

The waves rumble onward -
the sound of a thousand mighty horses
waterous hills and valleys
in endless, searching thirst.

***

Home to the ancient heroes of old -
the Spear-Danes in days gone by
by warmth of a hearth stone
by an old seaway.

***

To live a life of endless journey,
the fate of those whose hearts were as big as the world.


- Adam Taylor Green, 2012