[tweeted 5.19.2014]
Our place
is a small small place
unshared by lovers, friends
We cross the bounds
as we make our rounds
on our way to our own ends.
Category Archives: Original Poems
Next Time
Next time perhaps or never,
surely any time but now
to say the things we need to,
but never quite know how.
English
These are your words, my words
I took them every one
To heart, to task, to my own purpose
In earnest and in fun
I’ve spoken vows and made confession
I’ve teased my newborn sons
My daughters sing an island song
Their grand-folks never sung
When Alfred set the Danelaw
Or came William from the east
When the plague killed foreign clerics
and promoted peasant speech
Could anyone imagine
Or would anyone have dreamt
This rock-born bloody bastard
Would around the world be sent
I know some French and Spanish
A little Hebrew, and some Greek
I read old verse in Latin
But it’s English that I speak.
Hard Time
I had a hard time
till I took time
and made time
my own
sails set
and rudder firm
I set a course for home.
The Shaker of Trees
(for Mark T)
The cool forest is my cathedral.
Autumn leaves fall,
abandoning bough and branch
they stain the glassy pond below
each a sermon, a story of bud and bloom,
of green springs and the rich colors of decay.
Birds bear witness to the falling,
harmonies and hymnals, sung in a round,
an ambient concert, a day song,
testimony to breezes and the unseen hand,
the shaker of trees.
Annoyed
(tweeted 4.28.2014)
Stillness eludes me
midges and gnats
inflated annoyances
day dragging
defying reason
consuming years
Another Drink
Control’s an illusion
by spirits dispelled,
the stronger the better
the tighter it’s held.
passing time till time passes away
a mindless smile returned to expectations
a standard suit in which to face the day
studied steps require no rehearsal
passing time till time passes away
passing time till time passes away
no cause, no valued prizes to obtain
a pantry full, a trophy on the mantel
to wake again means only to maintain
to wake again means only to maintain
get up, get dressed, get going on your way
no sooner done, no sooner comes the morrow
passing time till time passes away
passing time till time passes away
an hour, a year, a lifetime capped with grey
a bent back and a belly for a burden
weightlessness itself begins to weigh
Mainstream
(tweeted 4.10.2014)
Malaise in search of definition
finds a peg to hang its hat
in the settled slogans of toothless rebellion.
Settled
(tweeted 4.7.2014)
We settled here and built,
It’s what we do:
shaping the clay of our surroundings,
making a home.