Keith & Elizabeth Stanley-Mallett - Poetry Books

Between Night and Dancing Light

Between Night and Dancing LightBetween Night and Dancing Light is a collaboration. Part I presents poems by Keith Stanley-Mallett, while Part II includes poems by Elizabeth Stanley-Mallett. The book as a whole is 180 pages.

It was published in June, 2010. To learn more, or to buy the book, please see the purchasing page.

Poems from Between Night and Dancing Light, Part I
by Keith Stanley-Mallett

Between Night and Dancing Light

See how the dancing light
Outshines the stars on high,
And puts to shame the moon
That brightly shines at night.

These unpredictable visitors
A glowing dancing delight
Morphing colors flowing,
A magical shifting sight.

Below the northern star
The lights descend in veils,
Cascading in the air
To light the sky like coloured sails —

On invisible faerie ships
That glide and fly, hide and sweep
Across the heavens, high and low
Each hue and shade strong and weak —

Defies the night, daring to seek
Further, longer, brighter, higher,
Brilliant messengers from the sun
Flaming the horizon, like fire.


Life looks down upon the verdant
Isle of Britain,
In this year two thousand and nine
Upon a diminishing green,
A land of shame.
Little enough of green is left
And of forest,
Likewise little of the proud name
Once held in the greatest respect,
Now the sorriest.
Of all the great noble nations
Great Britain now,
Has lost her once historic way
Made worse by ill-meaning leaders
And traitors foul.
Much is made of modern progress
Concrete and roads,
That will never renew the splendour
It takes the right people to govern,
Those who once showed
A tenacity for freedom,
The British want Great Britain
In the hands of those who will make
A land, defiant!

Far Too Many, Far Too Few

The earth is only so big
The planet is finite in size,
Two-thirds of it is water
It's limited in area and supplies,
Yet the human race uncaring
Keeps on reproducing and growing,
With no thought of dwindling land
As if they were totally unknowing.

Unless we make provision
Laws and plans to counteract
This explosive situation,
And we have not long to act —

For on the one hand we have too many
And on the other far too few,
Unless the cold lands and the deserts
Can be revived and used —
I see the darkest trouble
Brewing on the horizon.
Trouble not easily overcome
As a warning shadow rises on —

Humanity and earth to come.

Just a Picture

I remember summers
And days of long time ago,
Such long days, warm and bright
So much to do, places to go.

Picnics in the country
By a meadow, woodland and stream,
We set the kettle to boil
And waited for the hiss of steam.

With our backs against a log
And a cloth spread out before us,
The plates of sandwiches
Covered to keep off the dust.

Cheese 'n' tomato, fish paste
And cucumber made such a feast,
With a bag of Smith's crisps
Lemonade or a cup of tea.

In shade from woodland trees
And the sound of running brook,
That now in memory
Is just a picture in life's book.

Wings of Time

Twenty thousand generations
Or more have flown the wings of time,
From forgotten years of long ago
When man was young, before the climb.

Before he knew his own harsh nature
Greed, jealousy, power unborn,
When the world was young in heart
Governed by nature's myriad forms.

For overflowing were the seas
In bountiful diverse creatures,
And fresh-wrought waves thundered
To break upon golden, virgin beaches.

Thus, all the long ages past
With their triumphs and woes,
To the present generation
Confirm what fleeting time shows —

Man's little understanding of place,
In life's continuum, for we as a spark,
Live just for a moment before
We too, the wings of time must embark.

Poems from Between Night and Dancing Light, Part II
by Elizabeth Stanley-Mallett

Silent Stones

What stories they could tell
These stones on Salisbury Plain,
Of times afar and people lost
Of the sun worshippers' refrain.

But they are far more than that
Far more than a token,
Of man's supplication
And fear of the unspoken.

The silent stones stand stark,
Defying the wind and rain,
Marking the beginning of progress
'Til the gods come back again.

A beacon to the heavens
A calendar for time and place,
So their ships and shuttles can easily see
Their artefacts on earth from space.

We do not have to bow the knee
As we did in ages past,
For now we fully realise
We are awake at last.

Not needing these false gods
Who retarded our progress,
We do not need their presence
Or inflicted strain and stress.

We have shown we can succeed
And know where we belong,
We do not need the stones
We know what's right and wrong.

Closed Minds

Closed minds shut tight on life
Miss out on learning such a lot,
There is no room for new visions
Being brainwashed, for what?

Though shalt not laugh or smile
Jollity is a crime,
Misery, grey with meanness,
Ruling all the time.

No time for enlightenment
No time for kith or kin,
Open up the bolted door
Let the sunlight in.

What is the point of bigotry?
Why be such a Bastille,
Storming the prison of life
A nicer person will unseal.

Finding reward in knowledge
Will such a pleasure be,
There is room inside the mind
For great curiosity.

Our Love

Our love is stronger than life itself
Stronger than jewels, gold or any wealth,
It will flourish in all life's stages
And endure throughout the ages.

Our love is future, present and the past
Our love is now and must surely last.
Our love bridges both old and new
It spans every scene and point of view.

Who dares to try and come between
A love like ours so firm and keen,
To demonstrate that we are certain
Our love can reach the final curtain.

When mortal life is snuffed right out
We may know what it's all about,
Our love will survive in its psyche form
As new, in another body, it is reborn.

I Walked in the Woodland

I walked in the woodland
Shuffled leaves under my feet
So many over the years
Had compressed to form soft peat.

Spongy to walk on
So gentle to my heels,
Absorbing all the shocks
Refreshing, uplifting it feels.

Decay of old fallen trees
Had spawned varied fungi,
Some too deadly to eat
Home to little blackflies.

From the death of the wood
Now life is emerging well,
Nutrients back in the soil
Feed roots, for spring bluebells.

A carpet of primrose, anemone, sorrel
Nodding, swaying to and fro,
And dog roses pink and gold
Adorn the tall hedgerows.

Later the woodland rings
With call of thrush and dove,
Whilst the skylark soaring high
Will kiss the clouds above.