Lords and Ladies (Arum maculatum or cuckoo pint)

Lords and Ladies (Arum maculatum or cuckoo pint)

The “lords and ladies” grew deep in the shade
Then bore red berries hid quite out of sight
It did not grow within a sunlit glade
And shunned the Sun’s direct and brilliant light
For not all will partake of bold display
Nor choose to live high up above the rest
There’s safety when you hide yourself away
Through solitude it seems some may be blest
But should a mighty oak collapse and fall
A shady place may face the Sun’s full glare
Poor arums then have not the wherewithal
Existence then it is not worth a prayer
New oaks may grow and cast a cool new shade
But care not for the dead, now all decayed


Narcissus Flowers

It is a shame that such a dainty early spring flower, the Narcissus should be associated with Narcissism.  Narcissists are a real pain in the backside and are dangerous folk to be around, so unlike this lovely flower.


Narcissus Flowers

Down there by where the small stream flows
It’s damp and shady too.
That’s where the wild Narcissus shows
Its sunny yellow hue.

Its face looks down t’wards the ground
Its leaves all look upright;
There bumble bees will buzz around
Through dappled rays of light.

So seeming shy it flowers there
Within the semi-shade.
Narcissus does not have a care,
Nor debts that must be paid.

Narcissus is a flower, that’s all,
Within a habitat
And sorrow does not come to call;
For flowers don’t feel that.

If pain and sorrow is in us,
We can’t externalise.
Plants aren’t a part of all our fuss,
In time we may be wise.

From: Tale of Aethelwulf of Lyng,   2016

Pallid Moon

Like Li Bai I am enchanted by the moon.

The Pallid Moon

A pallid Moon hung in the sky
On this clear winter day
All’s placid now save for a sigh
That seemed so far away

I seemed to be the one who sighed
Though it felt far from me
Those inner conflicts here had died
Forlorn Hope was set free

The silence seems intense somehow
It held onto my soul
The cold Sun gleams so strangely now
Yet little here seems whole

The still air held its winter chill
Heard here was one bird song
That song brought its own special thrill
Somehow the weak grew strong

That pallid Moon will fade away
The sun is rising here
Today will be a special day
As we all conquer fear

© Trevor Morgan 2016

The Mariner and the Murmuration

I was on the Somerset Levels one early evening when I found myself amidst a myriad of starlings. Some flew so close I felt the draft from their wings. They then arose above me like a glorious host and filled the air, there must have been near to a million of them. I was transfixed. This was a very special gift to witness such an event. I saw a lone hen harrier stoop through the Murmuration and despite her efforts she failed to catch a single starling.  Her chicks went hungry that evening


The Murmuration of Starlings

“That streaming flight of birds went streaking by
It seemed as though they might block out the sun
A million starlings swarmed across the sky
The harrier there she stooped but she caught none
That flow of birds had parted round her flight
At sunset though the flock had settled near
They seemed to fill all trees within our sight
The twilight sky seemed calm and all was clear
The evening star grew bright until moonrise
Shone silvery light across the low wet land
Then myriad stars they seemed to fill the skies
There’s more to this than we may understand
Maybe there’s mystery in all we see
Yet none of us may know what is to be

Watching the Murmuration

The flock it seems to flow not fly
Like eddies in a brook
Above me there they filled the sky
And all here stopped to look

That flow of birds would twirl and roll
And reel around the sky
The sight of them they warmed his soul
As their flight rolled on by

A Mariner watched a harrier dive
And saw her pass straight through
I saw the starlings all survive
It was a wondrous view

The harrier passed right through the flock
Though it sought flesh to rend
Those myriad birds they seemed to mock
And seemed to part then blend

Coordination seemed the key
Each bird knew what to do
Was there in this some mystery
In how all these birds flew?

The harrier sought but it took nought
Each stoop here gained no prey
It rushed straight in the way some fought
This would not be her day

It seems attack is not the way
Where foes elude attack
We ought think of a better way
That we might now come back…

I watch each sunset full of Grace
Gaze at the evening star
I see the Moon’s big silvery face
And hear a lone night jar

Suns and Moons

The T’ang poet Li Bai loved to write about moons and about moon shadow. I know how he felt and how changing light can influence composition.

Suns and Moons

The rising of the sun
A brilliant orange sky
Now this long day’s begun
You tremble and you cry

The passage of the sun
From dawn through to midday
With journey that’s half done
It carries on its way

Noon sun in late July
The light and humid heat
Shimmer before the eye
When cool drinks are a treat

Noon sun in December
A bright light without heat
It’s a cooling ember
A brilliant lurid cheat

The passage of the sun
It’s run to west from east
So soon each day is done
And we’ll sit down to feast

The setting of the sun
A vivid ruddy sky
The long night has begun
But there’s no need to cry

The rising of the moon
That’s presaged by its glow
Its full disk is seen soon
What secret will it show?

The passage of the moon
Her sensuous glowing face
Like some foretelling rune
There’s glory in her grace

The moon’s shrunk to a crescent
A gentle subtle glow
With honeysuckles scent
All stress may fade and go

The moon has waxed to full
A fulsomeness of grace
It has a mystic pull
Reflecting light from space

The passage of the moon
From moonrise to moonset
It’s glow may go quite soon
But there is no regret

The setting of the moon
The dying of it’s light
The depths of darkness soon
The stars a glorious sight



Saga of Sabah – and other Sagas of the Sea


I have a book of poems published in Sabah, Malaysia.

Sabah State Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
Trevor Morgan, Saga of Sabah and other Sagas from the Sea
ISBN 978-967-11517-8-5
1. Poetry–Environmental aspects–Sabah
2. Borneo–Foreign relations–Indonesia
I. Sabah State Library

This is copyright and may not be kept in storage in any media in the United Kingdom

Buku Saga 1

Kulit Saga 1

Feathers ruffled

I wrote this on 21 September 2001 at the Falconry centre on the Isle of Mull I was watching a display but my mind was elsewhere. It was a sad time.


Feathers Ruffled

Bald eagle with a damaged wing
Hawks guided in as planned
We hear a carrion vulture sing
Where dead flesh is at hand

Bald eagle has small feathers harmed
Hawks dead upon the ground
The vulture’s kind now cower alarmed
The eagle makes no sound

The vulture hides deep in a hole
From justice that is planned
Yet in his dark deceitful soul
He thinks he is God’s hand

Some time from out the sun’s stark rays
We’ll hear the vulture’s dead
And where the well fed eaglet plays
The ground is coloured red


21 September 2001


Widows’ Sea

Widow’s sea

The boat rolls gently on the wave
A small bird’s flying by
We know the sea’s a sailor’s grave
And like the breeze we sigh

The seaweed’s washed up on the beach
It’s scent is on the air
Her sailor’s soul is out of reach
Winds blow the widow’s hair

An eagle soars above the shore
The tide is on the turn
It flies above the sailor’s grave
A widow’s left to yearn

The tern dives in the gentle wave
Then rises to the skies
And flies above the sailor’s grave
A lonely widow cries

Whitebait are caught there in a net
The fisherman’s at sea
There are to be more widows yet
It’s what is going to be

The widow’s weeping by the bay
The orphans by her side
Yet these sad times will pass away
For goodness will abide

The boat lulls on the gentle calm
Soon no clouds in the sky
In stillness is a gentle balm
And widow’s tears will dry

From: “Typists in the towers”


Lesser Celandines

“The celandine’s in flower again
It’s early days of spring
The cycle starts again once more
Ah, hear the blackbird sing

The winding path beside the stream
White clouds sail slowly by
All’s still just like some sort of dream
And yet she had to cry

Once more life’s cycle is renewed
Once more false hope is here
Like just another calm prelude
For villainy is near

These yellow petals growing bright
The Celandine seems sweet
And whilst they’re pleasing as a sight
All love is in retreat”