Sidney Arthur Kilworth Keyes was born at Dartford Kent south east England on the 27th May 1922 his mother the daughter of a Manchester parson died of peritonitis a few weeks after he was born his father Reginald was a captain in the army who had recently returned from service in India......Sidney lived until the age of nine with his grandparents .....frail as a child he was rarely permitted to play with other children and no doubt his solitary life led to an interest in literature ....his poetry and according to those who knew him his outlook on life seemed unusualy coloured by his early experiences of death....his first major poem being an elegy to his grandfather Sidney...This poem certainly touches upon his uncertainties for the future.....Killed only 2 weeks into active service in the 2nd world war sidney Keyes died leaving a fine legacy of poetry that places him as one of the great poets of a war that unlike the first world war was to leave in its wake only a few who are widely remembered for their poems about this great conflict....Keyes stands alongside Keith Douglas (1920 - 1944) who in untimely death found immortality through the brilliance of their poetic thoughts.....heres the link to the page with the sound file...
Time will not grant (sound poem)



Regards...

Jim Clark

PS..Dont forget you can if you prefer listen to my sound poems at my Yahoo "sound poetry" web group (look in "files") heres that link

a href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bloozman_uk/ ">Sound poetry Yahoo group



All rights are reserved on this sound recording/copyright/patent Jim Clark 2003

Time will not grant

Time will not grant the unlined page
Completion or the hand respite
The magi stray,the heavens rage,
The careful pilgrim stumbles in the night

Take pen,take eye and etch
Your vision on this umpropitious time,
Faces are fluid,actions never reach
Perfectionbut in reflex or in rhyme

Take now,not soon,your lost
Minutes roost home like curses
Anonymous phantom,every unhoused ghost
Proclaimstime's strange reverses

Fear was Donnes peace to him,
Charted between the minstrel cherubim,
Terror was decent. Rilke tenderly
Accepted Autumn like a rooted tree.
But I am frightened after every good day
That all my life must change and fall away