burden of the dark

with what fresh words of choice or soft regret

are we to fight our battles now that time

has tolled against us the dull weight of grime

obscures our vision but no sort of debt

to past or future could hurt or abet

the heart of purpose as we seek to climb

beyond this moment past the normal slime

where there is neither  injury nor fret

you see us crawling searching for one spark

of ordinary kindness that might lead

the normal person from their weary plight

relieve our hearts from burden of the dark

reward with honour the most worthy deed

and grant assurance of a renewed light

counting no cost

in the beginning we counted no cost

but went rejoicing into the warm rain

so now more grimly we face what we've lost

so many choices into the mix tossed

almost at random it all seemed so plain

in the beginning we counted no cost

as being worth waiting no text was glossed

for hidden messages all was just gain

so now more grimly we face what we've lost

a world more troubled a future star-crossed

no brilliant thoughts emerging from each brain

in the beginning we counted no cost

instead we are the ones who now are bossed

ordered about and marked with a sad stain

so now more grimly we face what we've lost

knowing that morning will see the first frost

that signals a new winter with its pain

in the beginning we counted no cost

so now more grimly we face what we've lost

one more human deed

we  fear to echo what the sunlight speaks

in voices that cannot be raised too loud

for fear we might stand out within the crowd

or be admonished as monsters or freaks

so we are silent do not strain our breeks

in the assurance we will not be proud

of course or carriage nothing is allowed

to harm the tenor of our days and weeks

for normal passage this might be enough

but more is needed when we have to find

the kind of courage that you only need

when life has taken all your other stuff

and you’ve been drive mad as well as blind

yet have a chance for one more human deed

the making of good luck

beneath the cloud is clarity of sight

where choices made do not entail regret

but only wistfulness that we have set

our hopes too high as swiftly-coming night

will end the journey still in our despite

there's magic against which we may not bet

so each must laugh while all the foolish fret

for there's still someone who can make all right

not for us here the option to renew

all the old answers that no longer serve

to cover up what must now be made plain

those monstrous forms that we refuse to view

or the old houses just around the curve

where we used to take shelter from the rain

all work or play

before we cut the cord there is some time

to know the places where all choice is plain

and there is neither complete loss or gain

nor any hiding underneath the grime

for anyone the world is in its prime

we find it easy to remove each stain

nor is it hard to to show or to explain

the value given to each song or chime

while each one waits to hear just how the day

will be reported by the wisest folk

we will not rush unseeing  to remark

upon the rules that bound all work or play

nor those we take to be some kind of joke

that leave  us gasping at return of dark

this moment is no lie

now tell me that this moment is no lie

we mean to go one just as we began

to measure all the world within one eye

so that this magic will not make you cry

allow each of us to fulfill the plan

now tell me that this moment is no lie

since you have gained the trust and will not cry

for any reason there's a way to span

to measure all the world within one eye

we have been gifted with this will to try

for other countries where there is no ban

now tell me that this moment is no lie

that honour rises in the summer sky

with all the goodliness that we may scan

to measure all the world within one eye

in order that each heart may learn to fly

beyond the places where our feet first ran

now tell me that this moment is no lie

to measure all the world within one eye

the test

from shadow into shadow there's no need

to measure honour nor to mete out pain

through the sad morning for each must abstain

from that fierce propaganda of the deed

which was by action of straight force decreed

since all the nature of this world's made plain

and we learn both the cure and the heart's bane

what makes us whole and what will make us bleed

truth does not give the agent much real choice

you get to act since there's nowhere to rest

this side of death that is the one sure fact

instead you have to give justice a voice

face the rough world and submit to the test

just hoping to get all the way intact

an ordered departure

we always seem to leave there in the rain

not in light drizzle but a heavy pour

that catches us straightway we leave the door

yet we're back with no reason once again

to find our way through torrents to the plain

it seems too much and yet we ask for more

as if this were a torment we adore

the price of pleasure being this hard strain

the thunder speaks and we dare not respond

since all our fears are centred in that sound

when it is echoed by each traitor heart

revealing that we won't refuse the bond

and most afraid that hope will not rebound

because our hands and minds have lost the art

the normal way

the name is wrong the memory still right

of the grey trees beside the drystone wall

fruiting in summer so lush in recall

and seen so clearly in approaching night

as we looked up to see the birds in flight

the setting sun that gorgeous red ball

as into the green sea it seemed to fall

made of it one stark blessing of a sight

we cannot know what goods may come to pass

on this hard journey up and down the hill

but dare not bid a single minute stay

yet what we see reflected in the glass

is not the force either of wit or will

but all the markings of the normal way

emancipation day villanelle

in the bright morning under the free sun

all are now equal each of us may stand

glad in the knowledge that the lash is done

the times are over when we had to run

justice has entered where it once was banned

in the the bright morning under the free sun

a different type of journey has begun

when no one has the right of sole command

glad in the knowledge that the lash is done

we look around and see that we have won

so very much that all our words seem bland

in the bright morning under the free sun

what will become of us is known to none

but t we are ready and we understand

gland in the knowledge that the lash is done

and we have reached the point where everyone

must pause to sing then claim as theirs the land

in the bright morning under the free sun

glad in the knowledge that the lash is done

at the beginning

no trumpets echo in the deepest night

each is alone and must make their own way

towards the portals that let in new day

lacking the hearty pleasures of insight

and most uncertain still the bastard fright

will not much longer have unfettered sway

within this realm nor will the foolish bray

insisting on what cannot long be right

what we find true belongs to honest chance

the golden bloom that in the dawn we pluck

with loving thoughts arisen in each heart

ready the while to furnish our advance

with certainty that goes beyond plain luck

and all the wisdom that is from our art

by good chance

we are not measured rightly by good chance

our hopes are limitless but not our skin

there are no victors ever at this dance

they told us this was the time to advance

that all the old faults had been cast in bin

we are not measured rightly by good chance

our wounds will never let us jump or prance

and when we are related we're not kin

there are no victors ever at this dance

since it's a game whose players can enhance

their virtues best by adding to the din

we are not measured rightly by good chance

nor yet permitted to take up a stance

above the fray our only hope is sin

there are no victors ever at this dance

but there are still fools who think it romance

and who believe that there's a prize to win

we are not measured rightly by good chance

there are no victors ever at this dance

a simple song

viewing the tree in full and honest leaf

wet with the rain and startling in its green

indecency of summer is to mean

both more and less than normal plain belief

that nature is a sort of crafty thief

taking all life once she has set the scene

and leaving nothing but the space between

the moments of creation and sharp grief

for here is full eruption of true life

at its great peak of wealth to be adored

by all who wish to see it lasting long

yet who forget both efforts and hard strife

in hope to keep eternal the true chord

and hear within each heart a simple song

the bagpipe on the hill

so here we are beneath the pallid ray

of summer noontime seeking to escape

for just one moment from the normal shape

of discreet instance so that we might play

a different sort of role where one could say

the angry words to those with mouth agape

that tell apart the angel from the ape

but those are for another cooler day

instead we look to work a better will

in places where the choice is not so bright

as underneath the growing midday roar

of silver needles passing by the hill

each flashing clearly in the brilliant light

so bidding us to join with them and soar

the weight of dream

lacking all doubt choices unmade we scream

into the noon the sum of all our fears

not caring much about the weight of dream

on every several head until the beam

of milky light reveals the open tears

lacking all doubt choices unmade we scream

not only terrified but eyes agleam

with anger so this long hard tale of years

not caring much about the weight of dream

has caught each up in both the milk and cream

and blended in the message of our cares

lacking all doubt choices unmade we scream

all of our secrets in one clouded stream

while all around we feel the touch of stares

not caring much about the weight of dream

in middle day when the truth reigns supreme

denying mercy in the moveless airs

lacking all doubt choices unmade we scream

not caring much about the weight of dream

to ring the chime

no need for echoes where the silence heaps

up in dark corners waiting for new night

to lower herself and let the breathy might

that we call summer with its sudden leaps

of devastating beauty stay our sleeps

from each astonishment that seems so right

just when it happens then we turn that slight

degree of justice into one that weeps

we are not wrong to ask just what the time

must measure out for each unwanted child

who comes upon the wall and does pause

to beg for mercy nor to ring the chime

of those who think the tenor is too mild

but will uphold the harshest of our laws

on ordinary passage

the voices that are loudest in the dark

need not be those on which we must depend

call on a hope that's ample and not stark

for which new voyage when we first embark

there's no clear meaning that we could intend

the voices which are loudest in the dark

are not the ones we first set out to mark

on whose loud booming our thoughts would perpend

call on a hope that's ample and not stark

that is the task of scholar priest and clerk

here now to master each unworldly trend

the voices that are loudest in the dark

will not be those who cannot just remark

on ordinary passage they must bend

call on a hope that's ample and not stark

allow the motion to ignite a spark

of true humanity before the end

the voices that are loudest in the dark

call on a hope that's ample and not stark

through the middle air

impossible to miss that shining blue

the eye drawn outward to the furthest bound

where sense and vision come together drowned

in the immensity of that deep hue

where worlds and hopes are both slightly askew

some better wisdom is what we have found

where other souls in torment run aground

justice may grant an option to renew

no mind's enough to catch at all we need

for this long voyage through the middle air

though patience grants a chance to set all right

when each has found some soil to plant a seed

and seen it nurtured given proper care

allowed to shoot its blossom into light

the centre of the world

at istanbul the line is swift

faces are warm the world is here

we have the journey as our gift

all landed safe none cast adrift

no crisis left to engineer

at istanbul the line is swift

we're moved along all hearts must lift

as each direction comes out clear

we have the journey as our gift

no simple one so for our thrift

we've been repaid and very dear

at istanbul the line is swift

but none can say that they've been stiffed

as cost of entry will appear

we have the journey as our gift

though we come far and have to sift

through memories made everywhere

at istanbul the line is swift

we have the journey as our gift

starlit time

no accident of language catches quite

the changing shades of meaning that reflect

not what is said but what we could reject

if well presented to our proper sight

but when we take as given in due right

and not as secrets of some hidden sect

they are the matters we have truly checked

and we are lost deep in the summer night

yet no one wonders at the altered state

nor at the clash of symbols that is seen

by those few waking through the starlit time

eager  to find a different sort of fate

but not to learn just what it ought to mean

nor yet the purpose of the long hard climb

the morning chime

fearful and waking is no normal state

but leaden hours induce no better heat

than mental light and thoughts of long defeat

in bitter summer we're past the first gate

deep into the dark country bearing freight

of so much history still incomplete

all of it human both truth and deceit

all to requirement but none of it fate

so measure that we find the true belief

is what we know and give to all our folk

upon their waking to the morning chime

of bells that have not known a moment's grief

but ring the ending of inhuman yoke

and bid us all achieve a better time