I am very pleased to present here a selection of the excellent verse of the poet, SoRoL.
I am a Poet and Writer, with the Pen Name: SoRoL.
I was born de-educated and raised in South London.
After 18 years of growing a fairly adequate humanoid body, I set off to seek my fame and fortune and after some interesting years in the Merchant Navy I returned home a wiser and more world-weary man.
I then spent a further year hitch-hiking and doing the modern version of the “Grand Tour” of Europe.
I have been writing and publishing Poetry for many years and have written in all forms and genres.
I have had many poems published in various magazines over the years as well as doing poetry readings at various Poetry Festivals around the U.K. in the Nineties and Noughties.
I have also self-published several Poetry Titles and Collections. You can find out more about these and other writing works in progress on this site.
In more recent years I’ve turned my hand to full fledged fiction writing; having produced a cluster of original short stories and a series of children’s fantasy books entitled: The Dragon’s Erf Series.
I now live in the vibrant capital of the North West of England – Manchester, living with my lovely wife Bibi!
And yes, I do of course support the all-time greatest football club ———————–ever!
(Fill in the blank as you wish!)
I hope you find my writings here entertaining and/or of some merit!
Be Kind – If you can’t be kind – Be Gone!
Of the beauty of Parnassus I breathe
As the swallows sing in sweetness at morn
As greying and fading night’s fingers take leave
And Aurora’s golden garments are worn
I drink of the wonder of morning anew
As I walk alone through cool cedar groves
Aware of the mists and the droplets of dew
Burdening boughs with their bright treasure troves
Pearls of white silver and beads of pale light
Lit by invincible arrows of heat –
Let loose by Apollo to conquer the night
And set by Diana at Nox’s defeat
The splash of spring water chuckles and cheers
And crickets at chorus play on their wings
And nature now laughs awhile free of its fears
As I too am free of what the night brings
I seek for solace – not for an altar –
I come to the pool where I wish to bathe
I hear the laughter that mingles with water –
A goddess is there – and there is my grave
The Man in the Moon
(Something for Halloween!)
There’s a ruby-eyed hiss of electric fright
In the radio station’s throat tonight.
There’s a need to feed my soul with night
And to walk in the land of anti-light.
There’s a long-held breath of death and doom
Squeezing inside the lungs of my room.
There’s a call to come and haunt the gloom
From a lonely ghost in a moon-swept tomb.
There’s an awful dryness and dread and drear
That’s drawing me out to somewhere near.
There’s a cool and clinging web of fear
Gripping my heart and drawing me here.
There’s a curious curl and coil of design
In clouds that cling with cold moonshine.
There’s an emerald stain of green-ghoul wine
Around this gloaming moon of mine.
There’s a wind that whips and a wind that howls
About my moon of gloom that scowls.
There’s a spirit calling like a hooting of owls
Along with night’s moanings and groanings and growls.
There’s a tree so black with claws like shears
That’s flaying and flailing and full of foul fears.
There’s a mist in the air that rises and rears
And enters my eyes, my nose, and my ears.
There’s a sighing and singing of a soft dying tune
And a fading away in a silvery swoon.
There’s a seeming, a dreaming, a screaming, and soon –
There’s a humming and coming of – the man in the moon.
Autumn in the Churchyard
It was autumn and the leaves had begun
Their deterioration into the sun;
September’s gold embers had started to run
And blend into browns and fall one by one.
They fell in the churchyard and over the graves,
On angels and crosses, in whirling waves
Of rustling, rusty and riotous raves –
Of partying corpses – only Jesus saves!