From time to time
On occasion
It becomes futile to try
Now and again
To express
The self-same
Ill-defined thought
Just an idea
I feel
Ill-conceived it seems
From time to time
Now and again
On occasion...
Monday 16 January 2012
What's More...
What's more important? Asking to be forgiven or the need to forgive; saying that you're sorry or wanting to hear that someone's sorry too; wanting to do something or making that small gesture in hope; knowing that you love someone or wanting that love returned; losing the love or feeling it still; saying something silly or keeping silent?
Thursday 5 January 2012
THE SILENT GRAPHITE WEIGHT
What is the role of the poet
In a world crippled by greed
Ruled and corrupted by might of arms
And diplomatic impunity?
A world where
Form has been perverted
Where beauty is seldom seen
Thriving within the decay.
What is the purpose
Of rhythmic, rhyming verses
Subjective, measured observations
About innocently metered nothings.
What good is poetry
In the belly that needs to be filled
Or in the unrecognizing, expired eyes
Of hope and a mother.
What is the point of trying to make clear
What so few seem to want to hear
So the poets perish in their graphite prisons
And the silence of the virgin page.
In a world crippled by greed
Ruled and corrupted by might of arms
And diplomatic impunity?
A world where
Form has been perverted
Where beauty is seldom seen
Thriving within the decay.
What is the purpose
Of rhythmic, rhyming verses
Subjective, measured observations
About innocently metered nothings.
What good is poetry
In the belly that needs to be filled
Or in the unrecognizing, expired eyes
Of hope and a mother.
What is the point of trying to make clear
What so few seem to want to hear
So the poets perish in their graphite prisons
And the silence of the virgin page.
CROSSES AND DOTS
Just lines
Twisted and bent
With crosses and dots
Forming letters
Lined up in sequenced
Unchanging patterns
Of vowels and consonants
Each word a meaning
Each its place
Each sentence a necklace
Illuminating my intent
To share
With you
The entrails of my thoughts
So that you will know
The madness
And the lines
Twisted and bent
With crosses and dots.
Twisted and bent
With crosses and dots
Forming letters
Lined up in sequenced
Unchanging patterns
Of vowels and consonants
Each word a meaning
Each its place
Each sentence a necklace
Illuminating my intent
To share
With you
The entrails of my thoughts
So that you will know
The madness
And the lines
Twisted and bent
With crosses and dots.
DOES IT REALLY MATTER?
Another year has passed
Unseen I sit and watch it go
Observing the multitudes
Frivolously parading
Inebriated smiles
And fire-cracker laughter
Toasts to good cheer
Reciting a song
Otherwise forgotten
Unthinking into another year
Of business as usual
A tired vision despoiled
Of how to make another million
How to save another million
How to climb and clamber
Onto the backs of the downtrodden billions
To mark the progress
Of indiscriminate destruction
Distractedly focused
Making resolutions
Clutching desperately
Onto the re-used wishes
Taken out and dusted
And polished by a new speech writer
At the end of each new year.
Unseen I sit and watch it go
Observing the multitudes
Frivolously parading
Inebriated smiles
And fire-cracker laughter
Toasts to good cheer
Reciting a song
Otherwise forgotten
Unthinking into another year
Of business as usual
A tired vision despoiled
Of how to make another million
How to save another million
How to climb and clamber
Onto the backs of the downtrodden billions
To mark the progress
Of indiscriminate destruction
Distractedly focused
Making resolutions
Clutching desperately
Onto the re-used wishes
Taken out and dusted
And polished by a new speech writer
At the end of each new year.
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