Yikes! Poetry Too?
Although best known as a songwriter and lyricist, Tom is also a poet whose work has appeared in The Fiddlehead, Descant and several other poetry magazines. This page will feature some of his poems, old and new.
One windy day and the yellow is stripped from the mountains:
Limbs that were radiant are skeletal tracings of grey.
Aspens and birches, and even the willows and alders
Squandered the gold of the season in one autumn gale.
Spruces and pines are again the commanders of colour;
Green once again has no rival in sun or in shade.
Even the ground is forgetting the brightness of branches:
Leaf-paven paths turning copper that once were of gold.
(c) Tom Lips, October 1, 2020
I began writing something approximating verse when I was 11 years old, and I am still learning. Poetry, good or bad, arises from observation, experience, and the sheer love of playing with language.