When we walked I held your hand in mine
We walked round a small lake to see geese fly
We sauntered, in a rhythm were aligned
Time had stopped, the geese in circles climbed
Then swept onto the path as we came by
When we walked I held your hand in mine
Like a natural god, the geese divine
Landed in their beauty with a sigh
We entered a new rhythm, were aligned
On the shining water geese in line
Float and hunt for food with little cries
When we walked I held your hand in mine
In our garden for your love I pine
I may never love another till I die
We sauntered, in a rhythm were aligned
God is on the mountain with his lyre
Singing of the beauty of desire
When we walked I warmed your hand in mine
We lived attuned to love until you died
Day: Nov 3, 2026
How to understand rhythm in poetry – BBC Bitesize
https://www.bbc.co.uk/bitesize/articles/zmpxbdm#zpwm7yc
I am sorry that going to the pain in my hands at the moment I cannot do copying and pasting but this article is very worthwhile and it includes a video
It’s hard to find something at the right level and it does not make you have to memorize lots of long names that you will never really find useful in your writing
Because what matters is to write not to fast examinations about writing although it’s obviously very useful to know as much as you can manage of techniques even if you don’t want to use them.
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The rhythms of love
We fell into a rhythm as we walked
Arm in arm we wandered as we talked
We looked into folks’ windows as dusk came
Tried to guess their furnishings and names
Some had nothing but the ironing stacked
Others had the furniture we lacked
I bought a chest of drawers for just three pounds
We had a double bed where our cat lounged
I bought a little table made of oak
Fifty pence at auction, go for broke!
A few old armchairs covered in green cloth
Too severe to be a home for moths
Now I look at pictures on the walls
I see the sun turn mauve as down dusk falls
Images both simple and robust
One a choice the other nature’s lust
I see my sofa like a treasure ship
I lie upon it dreaming humorous quips
I dream of journeys on the little train
That signifies what sleep means to my brain
The rocking chair is empty of the cat
I see one in my garden, not my lap.
I try to tame this immigrant I like
I shall give him food and call him Mike.
Oh,dear that is my brother, will he mind?
I know he loves the birds, and cats do bite
He is not living here in my old road
Otherwise he’ll hear me shouting “Claude”
Perhaps I’ll call the cat Tamara Jane
In case they’re very sensitive to names
For I know not the gender of the beast
They may be quite fluid at the least
Now my husband cannot calm me down
I’d like his verdict on my new nightgown
But all I can remember is that rhythm
I fell into walking out with him
