On Seeing Manchester at Dawn The sky is charmless as a filthy rag - as daylight breaks, the traffic shuffles filed; indifferent roads are littered, bins are piled, the clay-like Sun's first smiles with sadness sag. The city's ragged as a vagrant hag, and seems a lightless land for souls exiled - yet somehow by this sight I am beguiled, my spirits roused that in dejection drag. I did not see - so hushful in the stone - this loveliness I unexpected meet - see these subtle charms all of their own, that play around each weather-beaten street - see in these buildings - that like flesh and bone stir and wake - the city's hidden beat. On Seeing the Aosta Valley To add more notes to birdsongs would – I know - only mar the passing hearer's bliss, more hues just cloy the glory of the rainbow; monarchs crowned would little gain or miss if crowned once more for show – while here below this scene is such that art I can dismiss. Tranquil it sits in winter's parting chill: the shops and cafes of the village seem drowsy with sleep; surrounding mountains gleam with fading snow; only the churchbells fill the alleys hushed and calm; all life is still, ruled by the rhythm of the gentle stream - low clouds enfold the valley in a dream, as we stand and watch it from the hill.
Christopher Laverty writes, “I am originally from Cornwall, but currently live in Manchester. I work as an English teacher and also in catering. I like to write on a variety of subjects using many different forms. I mainly enjoy poetry, but also short stories and essays. My hobbies include reading, music, films, travelling and scuba diving.”