Time

This one I rather like. If something looks a bit obscure or nonsensical here, it's probably an allusion. Those who "get" these will enjoy the poem better.


Shivering leaves,
A running breeze,
They come and they fade away,
Starting bright and ending in gray,
A question is thrown,
The answer is borne,
By the carrier of all things,
The mother of all things,
Then they fade and fall,
Dying, the fate of them all,

The sun warms and stills,
The light floods and fills,
Ghosts of night gone,
The angels have won,
They revel and rule,
Like all the other fools,
Then start to fail and tire,
Like a sputtering dying fire,
Having consumed themselves,
The light half-hearted dwells,
Knowing it is old,
Afraid, what before was bold,
The ghosts are born again,
A new cold plays then,
Brushing the leaves and feathers,
Running among tussocks and heathers,

They always forget, the fools,
They rejoice, men and ghouls,
As though they were needed,
They cry aloud, sometimes heeded,
By others who are passing,
The Silent One is laughing,
They live and play like they will always,
Reaching the same house, all their pathways,
Where they will eat clay and dream,
About nothing though it may seem,
The place of darkness and dust,
A lock eternal, covered in must,
What you wish you cannot have,
Gilgamesh or Adam, neither has,
Not Yahweh nor Zeus,
All will end as refuse,
We can only forget for a while,
Be fools and let our joy beguile,
So when you have nothing but day,
Rejoice, forget, laugh and play,
Reap your wheat and make your plan,
Man reaps life as time reaps man.

Poetry and Me

This is another silly experiment with no breaks till the end; hold your breath!

I could not write a poem,
More than I could make a golem,
I do not have the power,
To even describe a flower,
I’ve been rotten at verse,
Since I was born first,
I can’t make a rhyme,
With all the world and time,
My vocabulary is restricted,
My vision constricted,
Eloquence eludes me,
“Incompetent” concludes me,
I try to find inside me,
Words that would please thee,
Instead there are toys,
And things and worlds made for boys,
Nothing that I could show,
A woman so she should know,
That I am not just an empty vessel,
A whistling kettle,
Or a dirty ladle,
A plain thing by any label,
Or a stray dog,
Or a passing fog,
But I am myself,
Who cannot rhyme or much else,
But who is trying his best,
To live up to the test,
Of contradicting myself,
And before I say anything else,
I plead that though illiterate,
I am not inadequate,
To be your friend,
To the end,
My words are not doves,
But I can love,
Like a moth does fire,
Like a bard his lyre,
Like a warrior his blade,
A man a maid,
So sample this simple taste,
Slowly, without haste,
And then decide and see,
If my love pleases thee.

I Loved a Woman

NOTE: This is a slightly sentimental, whimsical and "wimpy" piece..

I loved a woman,
She was my heart’s desire,
Her splendor shone on my face,
My fancy did embrace,

I wooed her with words,
They flew round her like birds,
Shining and singing,
I hoped intoxicating,

But wine cannot be made drunk,
Nor a mirror hide truth,
She enjoyed my homage,
Ignored my hunger,

I told her my heart,
And I listened to hers,
Put wild flowers on her hair, and gossamer,
Driven by the laughter and love of her,

But it was I that swooned,
I brought her the moon,
She took it happily,
Somewhat summarily,

Whatever I gave her,
Already belonged to her,
And she never knew,
My ache as it grew,

She dropped petals on me,
Caressed with gentle breeze,
Her flowing curved lazily,
Her laughter shook happily,

Yet she never felt,
And she never thought,
That which I sought,
Before her I knelt,

She did not even imagine,
That one could wish without deserving,
So she gave me a passing waft,
An aroma cruel and soft,

And then it was evening,
She gladly declared her leaving,
Not even knowing, nor caring,
I watched her now despairing,

I said naught for pride,
She looked at me and knew this:
I could not say what I could not hide,
Tribute taken, departed with a kiss.