Keith & Elizabeth Stanley-Mallett - Poetry Books

Gilded Images: A Masquerade of Verse, Books I & II

Gilded ImagesGilded Images: A Masquerade of Verse is a collaboration. Book I presents poems by Keith Stanley-Mallett, while Book II includes poems by Elizabeth Stanley-Mallett. The book as a whole is 141 pages.

Below you'll find a selection of poems from both books.

To buy this book, please see the purchasing page.

Poems from Gilded Images, Book I
by Keith Stanley-Mallett

Love Perseveres

So quickly gone are happy times,
So quickly gone the years
Since we married that September
Yet, love still perseveres.

Although our youth is long since past
And we are deemed as old,
Still the spirit of life and love
Runs true, free and bold.

In thought and deed we complement
We share our knowledge bound,
And still we seek the secrets
Of love and life profound.

Only Time

When you study history
And look at the world today,
Disregarding innovations
Progress is still at bay.
We have not learned collectively
To listen, to share, to trust
Each other respectfully
Which humanity surely must.
Only time will tell
If humanity matures,
Or forever remains
To childishly endure
The same old conflicts
Through diverse ideology,
Narrowly thought-out teaching
Wrought from bad philosophy.
Yet someday we will know
The wrongs and rights of life,
A blending of minds to see
A future without strife.

A Moment of Reality

A pause, a thought,
A feeling of fate,
A moment only
To contemplate.

That singular touch
So mystifying,
Of unknown and known
Truth, yet denying —

The presence of time,
For one brief moment
You felt reality,
And all it meant.

Born

Out of silent nothingness,
Beyond all memory
And consciousness
Burst the incendiary —

Of violent concussion,
Following explosion
Abruptly detonated
Into this space chosen.

Such noisome sound,
Fireborn blasted energy
Awoke the darkness
With violent urgency.

Spilling piercing light,
Igniting the depths
The netherspace unbound,
Creation born, form and breath.

The Sky

Such clarity of sight
I can see through the sky.
So clear is the air
That now even I,
Can be like a bird
It's as though I can fly,
Reach out to infinity
Way beyond, so high.
Is it to this great height
My spirit goes, when I die?
Then again my mind plays
With ideas, the why,
Indulging in fantasy
As I gaze into the sky.

Gilded Images

An image that brings joy,
A fine painting hung,
Painted by an artist
Under a golden sun.
Or a view of the countryside
Woodlands and green meadows.
An old quaint cottage
Where climbing roses grow.

A theatre performance
With the players and lights,
An orchestral evening
Brings music into flight.
Visions that give such
Deep-set expression.
These are the images
The gilded impression.

Almost Famous

One thinks one is a writer
And writes all sorts of things,
Novelettes to novels long
That they, to fame with bring.

Poetry and essays form
Articles in magazines,
Yet 'tis of such little note
The world takes of your writings.

I am nearly famous
For the work I had published,
A poem here a poem there.
A book or two accomplished —

So little fame or credit,
Yet I know I have the making
Of a writer of repute,
This literary path I'm taking.

With pen in hand I gaze
At all that is blameless,
For nature does not care
Whether or not I'm famous.

Lord of All

Swiftly fly the minutes, hours,
Days turn into weeks,
There is no end to passing time
As the years repeat.

Time is uncontrollable
It has no substance,
Neither is it energy
Or spirit to enhance.

It cannot be understood
Why such time exists,
Presenting true reality
However it persists.

Century follows century
Into aeons do fall,
Time! We cannot master
It is the lord of all.

Liberty

It is a basic conception,
We all seek for liberty,
A long and timeless struggle
Throughout all history.
We need to have our freedom,
Ruled by democracy,
Yet still there is a shadow
A feeling of conspiracy.

Life offers less and less
We have but little choice,
Now many activities
No longer have a voice.
So much we took for granted
Has been taken or removed,
Liberty has many levels,
True freedom must be proved!

For Life, For Earth, For Man

This mystery of life,
Of cause and effect,
Created energies
Which receive or reject.

What is this reality
In which humankind
Strives for understanding
Within each depth of mind?

Constant are the labours
Persistent to exist,
Maintaining civilisation
With all it consists.

With scientific endeavor
We seek the mystic plan,
The universal meaning
For life, for earth, for man!

Poems from Gilded Images, Book II
by Elizabeth Stanley-Mallett

Golden Waves

Ripened fully by the sun
The fields ripple in the breeze,
To fill the nation's breadbasket
Habitat of birds and bees.

Planted in early spring
On East Anglian clay,
Green shoots grew fast to form
Golden Waves on display.

Rainfall though sometimes sparse
Has finally drenched the fields,
To swell the ears of corn and
Bless this harvest's yield.

Thanksgiving time then arrives
The grain is proudly shown,
Golden-baked cottage loaves
From flour ground on stone.

The fields are ploughed and tilled
Bereft of the golden grain,
Lying fallow until the spring
When the cycle begins again.

The Christmas Fairy

Sparkling silver, she balanced high
Right on the top of the tree,
Wondering why she was there at all
Above the glittering scene.

Long packed away in a box
Stuffed in a dismal loft,
With borken pathetic chains and
Old clothes chewed by moths.

No one went up to the attic
From one year to the next,
It was just like the entire house
Was under the spell of a hex.

Gloom, doom, and spiders' webs
Bats squeaking in the rafters,
All lay there undisturbed when
From downstairs came laughter.

For the lady of the house
Had a granddaughter fair,
Who liked to run and play
By the Christmas tree there.

Standing tiptoe on a chair,
To see the top of the tree,
She espied the shining doll
The sparking Christmas Fairy.

The girl cried out with glee
She thought the doll so beautiful,
Atop of the festive tree
The fairy felt love shine through.

It Pours from His Pen
(A Tribute to Keith)

It could be any time, day or night
Does it really matter when?
The sheer entertainment
Just pours from his pen.

Sitting in front of his window
At the desk in his den,
Works on diverse subjects
Just pour from his pen.

Be it space, nature, politics
As it was, now and then,
Poetry, on wars and families
Written down by his pen.

For sheer quantity of work
Many times by ten,
Incomparable quality
Just pours from his pen.

It will be placed with other
Great poetical works of men,
Still his poems keep on flowing
And pouring from his pen.

My Love

My love is in full view of me
Sitting in the green armchair,
It is a source of comfort
Just to know he is there.

We have faced many hard times
Our bond is firm and strong,
There can be no doubt
Together we belong.

Now it's the middle of February
The month of Valentine
You are my beloved
I trust I am thine.

The usual drivel is said
About hearts of true,
I can truthfully say
I belong to you.

We will survive the years
Supporting one the other,
My husband, dear to me
You're tops as my lover.

The Staff of Life

The staff of life
More commonly known as bread,
The staple food of all concerned
By which whole armies were fed.

In Bible days, the parable
Of the loaves and fishes,
Shows the importance
Of this humblest of dishes.

Without it we cannot live
Protein, starch and bran,
Ingredients found in the loaf
The basic food of man.

Peasant and lord baked their bread
In kitchen ovens fired by wood,
The resulting crisp, brown wedge
Smelled and tasted good.

It is a simple pleasure
To consume bread and cheese,
Outside the ploughman ate
Under the hedgerow lees.

Fair, Fat and Forty

It's OK to reach here
The dreaded milestone of forty,
Keep your sense of humour
Think of something naughty.

Why worry about being fair?
Life is not like that,
Life's little nasty habit
Turns everything to fat!

What really is important
Is to keep smiling through,
Finding so close at hand
The inner strength that's you.

All very well for others to preach
They really haven't a clue,
They should try swapping places
And standing in your shoes.

Fair, fat and forty
Here's to all in this club,
Just look in the mirror
And stroll to the pub!