Two Poems

by Ken Simpson


Rearranged Days

Silence
inside a train
is the only sound
of life outside.

Along a road
a melody grows
flirting
with the countryside.

The river
wide and turgid
flows
to a relentless rhythm.

Sometimes
a flute plays
to the rays of sunshine
and whispering winds.

Clouds swell
in a darkening sky
to the groans
of a sombre trombone.

Inside
listen to the rain
and watch it slash
at the window panes.


Inspiration

Ideas sprout like mushrooms
after rain
fading as echoes
that merge as memories
or thoughts
thriving and twitching
like leaves
before they decompose
in someone's else's clothes.