Autumn Leaves Read online

Autumn Leaves

  by

  Peter Allchin

  Copyright 2012 Peter Allchin

  Also by Peter Allchin:

  Table of Contents

  Autumn

  The Lesson

  The Witching Hour

  The Park Bench

  My Love

  My English Heaven

  Christmas Eve

  The Hand of Death

  Weather

  Ocean:A Sapphic Ode

  Autumn

  The summer has passed by again and now

  The days grow shorter with each passing hour

  And shadows lengthen with the cooling sun

  The cold of night to kill the summer flower.

  For this is Autumn, glorious in its cloak

  Of death, decay, and swirling bonfire smoke

  Of golden leaves that fall like flakes of snow

  As squirrels gather food from mighty oak.

  For me, this is a favourite time of year

  When Mother Nature takes a well-earned rest

  And settles down to sleep until the Spring

  To once again be put to mortal test.

  For one day we will reap what we have sown

  And bid farewell to all that once was rife

  To only have a fleeting memory

  When Mankind is in the Autumn of his life.

  The Lesson

  I know not what is leading me

  To peak of yonder hill

  I’d halt my steps and journey back

  But I have not the will.

  I’m led there by an unseen hand

  A force so strong that I

  Have nowt to countermand its power.

  Is this my night to die?

  However strange as it may seem

  I have no thought of fear

  And yet I know a deed so foul

  Had been committed there.

  Through murk of mist, I travel on

  ‘Tis late and I am cold

  The midnight hour approaches fast

  What ghosts might I behold?

  A church bell chimes the witching hour

  And on its final peal

  I stand atop the misty peak

  And face a man of steel.

  On steed so fair, this knight of old

  Is seated proud and tall

  When somewhere in this hellish night

  There comes a fearful call.

  A band of cutthroats sally forth

  As death-cries fill the air

  And as the scene unfolds, all I

  Can do is stand and stare.

  The knight refused to fend the blows

  That downed him and his steed

  No utterance came from that man

  There was no cry of cede.

  The bodies and the cutthroats all

  Did fade into the night

  But the ghostly hand that held me there

  Did so till morning light.

  ‘Twas then I saw upon the soil

  Bound in golden braid

  A parchment telling of the time

  A debt in blood was paid.

  “May God take pity on my soul

  For in His name I try

  To live my life as He would wish

  Alas, I live a lie.

  For I have sinned against you Lord

  And broke a sacred law

  I killed a man and took his wife

  As though she were a whore.

  Their families insist on blood

  Which I shall not deny

  At midnight on All Hallows Eve,

  I will prepare to die.”

  The parchment faded in my hand

  And soon it turned to dust

  I felt I had been privileged

  To learn of one man’s lust.

  My thoughts then turned to Josephine

  Her husband and their son

  I’d planned to take her for my own

  But what would I have won?

  For I have seen with my own eyes

  Through the misty haze

  A lesson learned from age-old knight

  The folly of my ways.

  The guiding hand has set me free

  Of body soul and mind

  No more will I think of myself,

  I’ve left the past behind.

  The Witching Hour

  The witching hour

  When ghosts appear

  Cauldron, hags and spell

  To frighten every mortal soul

  And send us all to Hell.

  The witching hour

  The bell will chime

  Midnight, dark and damp

  So send away the darkness now

  And light the oil lamp.

  The witching hour

  When ghouls will take

  Bodies from the grave

  Then evil sweeps across the land

  Beware the tidal wave.

  The witching hour

  It soon will pass

  Morning brings the dawn

  But evil waits the witching hour

  And ghosts to be reborn.

  The Park Bench

  The park bench looked so inviting

  There were people walking by

  I wandered over to it

  But my friend did ask me why.

  "To sit and watch the ladies,"

  I said, as I sat down

  "And to join in conversation.

  I see that makes you frown."

  "But you are old," he told me,

  In no uncertain terms.

  "And there sits an even older man.

  Do you really want his germs?"

  "I may be old in body,

  But my spirit is still young

  So judge me not my good friend

  Til the fat one, she has sung."

  The old man coughed and spluttered.

  Fell to the ground and died.

  No one came to help him

  No one stood and cried.

  His coat was torn and tattered

  And beneath, a grubby shirt.

  He looked just like a rag doll,

  Discarded, caked with dirt.

  The park bench had been inviting

  Although the seat was damp

  But it had given respite

  To the coughing of a tramp.

  The body of the old man

  Lay peaceful, as in sleep

  And as I closed his weary eyes,

  My own began to weep.

  Is our fate mapped out for us

  The moment we are born?

  And if we die alone, like he

  Will anybody mourn?

  That night, as I lay in my bed

  The daytime at an end,

  I wished that I had known that tramp

  And been a loving friend.

  My Love

  If I could live one thousand years

  And walk the longest mile

  I know I’ll always have with me

  The beauty of your smile.

  For we have travelled twisted paths

  Wrong turns, we’ve taken too

  But my love, my precious love

  I would have fallen by the way

  If not for someone special

  And that special one is you.

  My English Heaven

  The days grow shorter, colder,

  Autumn shows her hand

  Lush green leaves are dying,

  Falling, carpeting the land,

  Harvest time and Bonfires

  Bring fond memories of such joy

  Playing conkers with my friends,

  When I was but a boy.

  Winter with its cloak of death,

  Offers little cheer,

  But Christmas time for me is st
ill,

  The best time of the year

  To share with wife and family,

  The love that we have found

  This is my English Heaven,

  On treasured English ground.

  Christmas Eve

  Twas Christmas Eve and Santa Claus

  Was checking his long list

  He checked it once, then checked it twice

  For things he might have missed.

  But everything had checked out fine

  The toys were on his sleigh

  ‘Come Dasher, Dancer - all my friends

  We must be on our way’.

  Into the crisp, cold night they flew

  As snow began to fall

  With presents safely in his sack

  For children one and all.

  From house to house without a sound

  So quickly has he been

  That no-one seems to notice him

  For Santa’s never seen.

  The journey’s over, now at last

  The children wake and they

  Will open all their wondrous gifts

  For now ‘tis Christmas Day.

  The Hand of Death

  He came to me through fiery clouds of Hell.

  Watching, waiting, for what, I do not know.

  Hark now, is that the tolling of the bell?

  The clapper strikes, I’m told, “‘tis time to go.”

  But should I not resist Death’s outstretched hand?

  To spare me now; to halt the bitter blow.

  Is life no more than worthless grains of sand?

  And taken, without warning, on a whim,

  To please the god of darkness of this land?

  My heart rejoices, overflows the brim.

  But Death’s hand will return, this Reaper; Grim.

  Weather

  We weather the weather whatever the weather

  Whether we like it or not

  Whether it’s fine, or whether it’s rain

  We know it’s the weather we’ve got.

  If at the end of your tether in horrible weather

  And your shoes are of leather, which leak

  Don’t strip altogether, you’ll need a large feather

  For at your nether-end strangers might peek.

  Ocean: a Sapphic Ode

  The ocean is my one true love

  My mistress till the end of days

  And when I die I’ll soar above

  Her foaming waves.

  So hoist the main sail, Jack my lad,

  The wind and tide are running free

  There’s life in us so let’s be glad

  For me and thee.

  And if we hit the Doldrums, then

  We’ll cast a baited hook for fish

  And we will eat like gentlemen,

  A dainty dish.

  It’s been three months since we spied land

  Three months and not one single day

  Has Jack nor me sought out God’s hand

  Although we pray.

  But now a mighty storm appears

  From Hell beneath the raging waves

  No rest for us, no time for fears

  Of watery graves.

  So batten down now, make secure

  All rope and sail whilst there is time

  For she may have us yet, I’m sure,

  Oh love sublime.

  The seas have calmed, she shows her grace

  And dolphins dance in ecstacy

  On ocean’s face of silken lace,

  She dreams of me.