Poems

For This Was Their Time

From the shadows, singing ancient songs of love,
burned a fire so deep it went unseen.
Warrior-seekers, furious over a misguided quest,
stormed into the shadow of the flame,
and were quelled.
The solace of the flame appeased their minds
and warmed them, but what little chill.
In the glow of the flame the men laughed well.
The night brought them comfort and clean hearts,
whiskey and cider.

At dawn the quest would wait no more.
A new day brings new hopes, and understandings:

the quest is never late nor early,

but always on course.
The flame burned bright as ever
as the men solemnly gave thanks and left.
Into the damp, morning breeze
the warrior-seekers rode to meet their quest.
And the shadow was no more.

Sonnets

Can I from torturous temptation turn,
When warm, seductive eyes caress my skin
And lingering touches my senses burn?
Reason's buried fast under passion's sin.
Quicker still with drink in hand, throat and vein
Dripping from lips, dismissed by teasing tongue
Falling from chin to chest but scarcely veiled
Rolling over respondent skin and hung
But a moment for me to think; no, drink
For that last, bitter-sweet drop must I gain
So, fall from love and into lust I sink
Her lips, her neck, her breast, her will, my bane

Oh, the peccant deeds ne'er shall I avouch

But even lust provides essential touch

Oh, how liquor eases love's bitter pains:
A warm lie concealing the heart's own fears,
Though it weeps at Venus' winning ways
Its thinning blood pumping faster; it bears
Malice against lovers in their gay flirts.
Will no heart dance in rhythm next to mine
For more than a simple song? nay, a verse?
Heaven cure cupid, for me thinks him blind.
Oh God! have these spirits done me much wrong
I sit shivering - their false warmth gone cold
I humbly beg mercy ere night is gone
Let day not break lest dreamless sleep take hold

To whomever coined, "to have loved and lost,"

I would fain wish to know his choice of sauce.

Day by day by constant calendar's course
Every sunrise and set and lunar phase
Constellations dictate their cosmic force
Planning the events of linear days
Revealing the ancient and recent past
Explaining the powers that wax and wane
Why the present has the strength to hold fast
Lest no comfort to those who know distain.
The future, now there's a foreboding sight
Perceived, it seems, by only the blind eye
Described as day intermixed with the night
The better deciphereed from days gone by.

But I can read naught in your starried eyes

Save my reflected hope ne'er realized

Arthur's Lament

I had given my word to the lady
Equality with the new faith and law
For she and her kind had provided
The strength to protect all our homes

And she was so warm with her guidance

For the old ways were all ways before

But I troubled not to remember

As the new ways advanced on the Tor

I would I had taken to council
For the Druid and the Priestess were wise
Welcoming all who respected
Differences and changes in life

And their songs played gently on heartstrings

Like the breeze through a fine wooded glen

Relieving one�s soul of its torment

I should like to hear one again

But the priests of the new faith condemned them
Saying dark were their magic and spells
Only one god speaks light from the one truth
And many false gods lead to hell

And I chose not to defend them

In the end I abandoned their side

Now I cannot pardon my actions

As I lay here waiting to die

I had given my word to the lady...

cool and fiery violet
the Chinese Fighting fish
explores an old, algae ridden tank
a lead-crystal ball reflects the present
distorts the past, but reveals no future
candles undo the shadows
voices dance and delight
weapons still and sigh
a poet sips his last line

Despair

Painting an oversized canvas with
bitter colours of blood and gold,
dull as natives stretched
lifeless across the land.
Blues, browns and greens
at their murky, indignant depths
spiral in tempestuous fury
over, around, within wingless cherubs
wailing against endless wrath.
Rare rainbows appear as hope:
distant and unreachable,
fading under cold, angry clouds,
forever grey and heavy.
Natural, spiritual and social elements
wrap their foreign, merciless tentacles around me
binding, constricting, dragging, drowning.
Were there ears to hear I might cry aloud
to be lost amidst six billion wretched voices
as desperate as mine.

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