Ian Stewart Black

Modern master of classical poetry

Month: June, 2017

Silences Between The Notes

In melancholy
Silences between the notes,
I feel I’ve lost you.

The Rain On My Skin

Alone for so long,
I’d forgotten this feeling –
The rain on my skin.

Hiding From The Rain

Hiding from the rain,
You take shelter in my arms…
Though the skies have cleared.


The remnants of our former lives lay strewn
About us in the years before we met,
The faith and hope that once defined us hewn
Until we deigned to live as silhouettes;
And all the while assured that nothing new
Could overcome the shadow of the past,
For I had lived in brighter days as you
To acquiesce that nothing good may last;
But still we gathered up our broken souls
And never thought to see them coalesce,
Too far beyond all hope to be consoled –
We were but strangers in the wilderness;
The same old world lay open to explore,
On verdant paths we never walked before.



If all that we have yet endured
Is but a prelude of the coming storm,
Our spirits and our hearts inured
To hardship by continuous reform;
The better part of our resolve
Depleted merely to begin again –
Deprived of strength, our names dissolved
Into the seething ranks of lesser men;
If demons slain and battles won
Should count for nothing as the world forgets –
The glories of our youth undone,
By shifting sands and weariness beset;
And stricken from the echelons,
We stand as strangers to our former friends –
For all that we relied upon,
We wait in exile for the bitter end.

Then all the richer shall we be
For throwing off the murky veil of death –
Devoid of all we knew, but free
To breathe again our first and final breath;
The nobler shall we find ourselves
For taking stock of pride and passion lost,
Undaunted as our legend delves
Into the mire where fallen dreams exhaust;
And ever ready to reclaim
The ruined kingdoms that we called our own,
For honour and a faded name
The cowardly would hasten to disown;
As children of a shadowed womb,
From death to live again. In glorious
Defiance of a hollow tomb –
Though battle-scarred, we stand victorious.

By A Lonesome Shore

By a lonesome shore,
Starlight spills into the sea
As tears from heaven.