17 March 2014

the golden blow

we take the pummel since we have to ride
no need to fumble there’s a ready flow
though words are warmer life retains its glow
both here and where we  see high mountain’s side
wake in new green our hearts no longer hide
from the assertion that they truly know
what is their will we’ve seen the golden blow
after the panic and we share the pride
no worse disaster that we care to mark
in daily news or nightly tale of care
can come so close or make our souls to smart
but what’s important is the end of dark
erasure of the hard weight of despair

from where it lay upon each normal heart

12 March 2014

no one regrets

emerging from the freighted dark no thought
but that the sky be clear and hands be filled
with all the needful that your warm hearts willed
when in good daylight the first words were caught
by eager listeners who had been taught
that not all prizes went to those best drilled
in the arcana of the freshly-killed
rather to ones who would account for naught
there is a victory that no one regrets
up in the hills when all the gifts are due
then hunters call and do not comprehend
the plainer meanings and the open sets
though when we have been silenced and review

our final forces we find there’s no end

at the commencement

at the commencement all the world was dared
for a small prize a kiss  and then a hope
so that the magic feeling would be shared

not by the ones whose  urgency was feared
as they came running down the morning slope
at the commencement all the world was dared

just so they could with justice be prepared
for honourable parting we elope
so that the magic feeling would be shared

in proper form and time by those who cared
more deeply and were happy they could cope
at the commencement all the world was dared

yet we survive while all the children stared
as new dawn seemed to offer yet more scope
so that the magic feeling would be shared

by all the folk who knew they had been spared
to hold with strength what they could barely grope
at the commencement all the world was dared

so that the magic feeling would be shared

11 March 2014

truth's a toy

what’s left unknown weighs down  until we bleat
in rage and fear then leave off being bold
for better nights and stories wiser told
as those with longer practice wait the fleet
leaving the late ones to patrol the street
in angry silence so while it is cold
as the dew rises and the night turns old
the urgent and the foolish still may meet
this is the game of rats that always prey
upon the leavings that once made for joy
cast away now beneath the starless sky
as every denizen flees from the day
in certainty that even truth’s a toy

and honour turns out just another lie