Featuring four true works of art written by amazing poet, Mr. Henry Farrell, who was chosen as "Poet of the Week" , November 2022, May and June of 2023. COME NOVEMBER

I sing of the winter at hand - - -
Of the chilling face of November:
I sing of that ever be of England!
Of Halloween; and comfort me not, its terror.

As I wander under the authority of dark
Where with brisk steps, the turn of streets,
Some with trees naked of bark
With brittle limbs in harmless folly...as the wind beats;

Yet! be the warbling; speaks my fear -
With the sky in cold ghostly sit;
For from the thin mist, throng me a silent shadow near,
And as it solicitates me, death would lie! but I did sweat it...

As acknowledged...free of a dream -
Partaken of the proof! of one who seem.

© HENRY FARRELL

UPON THE LORE OF FATE

Loneliness is a lonely road to stroll
When there is just one you
Faring-dominant the breeze in roll:
And as depart the seasons knew!

Seems duller the radiant lustre in the eye...
Even with stolen glances! the transparent hue
in wondrous effulgence,
In gentle emotion of the sky!
A cherishing, dwell the spirit of ethereal presence:

Alack! detain my heart, doubt of love's affection;
It beats of hope and fear!
As it orchestrates breath of devotion
In repeat verses I must bear...

Affirmed a life of solitude - - -
Hope! awaiting love to shed my sorrow away; Fear! crushed into a domain of shadowy mood; O' the many melancholy, my aspect each day

While pal-like the folds in submit, bereft of passion - - -
Lo' I give way, with faint hope for the end of this
lonely desolation

© HENRY FARRELL

OF BEARERS MANY - HAUGHTY OF HEART

In more life - - -Of more time,
The ascension...of onward bring -
Beset the heavens with the sun in climb;
Here and now! be its very nature of waxing,
Steal away! the breadth of spring;

And with more its lead in pore,
Not less the need! for the radiant lustre of its eye -
Entranced to a spirit more
Quiet in meaning! fitfully on high,
There! upon the desert sand! in whispering cry:

With more time; enquire at this point of life!
In playful charge my affection;
Ever! the spirit entitled Romance...alive
And be the intent from the shrine of devotion;
Will it be my eyes borne, the fancy image of my passion -

With not my depart! Earth's valley miles?
With the sun! the most exultingly radiant of all smiles

© HENRY FARRELL

WITH NO WANT OF A FEELING

There's a gateway to my heart - - -
O' stay for me there, in fold
Hidden from the collect vision
With intentness in told

Of the spirit which is entitled Desire:
Keep me from its strength of affection;
From its mysterious moods,
Keep the wife of my bosom! in sweet voice of devotion,

That in threatening spree!
Is love's passionate tongue;
Its treatise of desire!
My weary of craves burning and pervading song:

There's a gateway to my heart...
And make aware its entrance! as
a shadow
With an alert to depart; not wanting the rivaling
To preside, be its malcontent of sorrow:

Keep me free of its spirit shining - - -
Heartbreak! there's no want of the feeling


© HENRY FARRELL