Ode to the Birth of a King
written by: Tony Ashenden
Falling feathers in the still shade spin
And warm airs spiral from the burnt earth skin,
Thistledown parachutes wait for the wind.
Noel, Noel, Immanuel.
Pollen headed flowers in a scent filled swim
Sway to the bees’ tongue, sighing as they sing,
Noel, Noel. Born is the King.
Birds nesting shrill the air their mothering spells.
Lovers on the grass press drink from deep wells,
The old men remember in the sun’s speechless tell,
Noel, Noel, Immanuel.
The vicar from the Stone Church is walking the fells
And our dead men are rising to the sound of his bells,
Love me, O love me, Immanuel,
Born is the King. Noel, Noel!
In addition to my professional life in the Navy and computer industry, and as a complementary therapist, and founding a charity for psychic & spiritual development, I am a writer of several books and a poet. Little of my poetry has been published. The unification of body, soul, and spirit, guide my writings in whatever form they take, and I am dedicated to the harmonious development of Man. ”Life is real only then when I am.” Please visit my blog Mine Quick Voice of Aquarius to see some of my work.
Latest posts by Tony Ashenden (see all)
- Ode to the Birth of a King - December 23, 2025
- Love is Unmade - September 26, 2025
- Somewhere in Time - July 2, 2025
