Short thoughtful poems
AT THE FUNERAL THEY CRIED
At the funeral they cried -
So much sadness pouring out, it was a surprise
To know they'd hated him when he was still alive:
But so it goes, the bottled up years of grief
Given relief, the pain of loss,
The bollocking from the boss,
Those months of feeling cross,
The times you had to lie -
All, all comes pouring out
In one long cry.
At the funeral they tried
To think of that man who'd died
But found they cried more easily
For themselves.
This poem is all about self-pity and hurt given the chance to vent at a funeral.
GOD IS WONDERFUL - PRAISE HER
God is Wonderful -
Praise Her.
She makes the mountains and the springs,
She carves the wondrous seas :
She lifts the birdies on their wings
And sets the breezes free.
God is Everywhere.
Praise Her.
With certainty they condemned the man,
They knew their heart's desire -
Their God was Just but they only saw
The consuming, beckoning fire.
For Fire will burn, and questions die,
And habits then can't flee -
Freedom is a dangerous thing
In its intensity.
For freedom leads to doubts and woes,
Freedom's best unborn:
Freedom is a sickness
For the wicked and forlorn.
Freedom hurts, and freedom lies,
It's safe to know The Truth:
Best to see with Certain eyes
Than suffer some reproof.
Religous certainty prevents questioning. Questioning leads to doubt.
THEIR GRIEF
Like leaden weights they hung their grief around the child,
Torn from her world of sunshine and flowers to mouth platitudes
She didn't understand,
To weep tears she didn't feel,
To vote with her fist and a small flag for change she couldn't comprehend.
'Look at how it's affected her!' they said,
And then with glee: '- Let's kill the bastards!'
Children are expected to be upset when their parents are. The parents then use the childrens' emotions as an excuse for violence.
THE WARRIOR - THE SONG OF THE WILL
In War
The Spirit wins
In War
The Will wins
In War
There is a purpose
And a necessity
In War
The Warrior Wins -
and no matter who is right or wrong,
The one with the Will wins.
I'M NOT RACIST, BUT -
'I'm not racist, but' -
The words cut deep,
Said sweet,
Strong walls from fools
Who'd rather keep
The simple answer's lies
Than try
To leap
Into the lives
Of those they despise -
I weep.
This little poem is about that phrase, always that phrase, 'I'm not racist but -'. Hey, we're all racist! There are peoples that don't look very impressive to me and I have to struggle to overcome my stereotypes of them.
WE REFUSE TO ACCEPT BLAME
'We refuse to accept blame,' they said,
'You're anti -
- Semitic
- Black
- Asian
- Muslim
- Christian
(fill in as required)
And with that they switched off their minds.
Sometimes I read about the excuse from one bunch of people or another that it's not their fault.
THE STRESS OF LIVING
Sometimes the stress of living
Wraps me like a knife,
Tight, sharp-bladed,
Pressed close to my skin
So that everything's constricted
And a touch makes me jump and snap
And tensions piled high become a mountain
That would topple and explode
And take me down with it too
If I didn't just walk away -
Walk away,
Walk away,
Walk away -
Retreat to my own shut-off land
Where no one enters
And the slightest knock trying to get in
Is met with a ferocious
'Get lost!'
That kills all doubt
And just leaves me alone -
Just leave me alone, please !
STILL TREES STAND PROUD BY THE NECK OF THE RIVER
Still trees stand proud by the neck of the river.
The gloaming, all gloom, defeats their shape,
Knocks out all colour.
Sounds:
Rushed water’s wash,
A child’s sharp cough,
Scurried leaves.
Depths of their slumbers,
The beech, chestnut,
Feel out their warmth
In silent contemplation,
Gathering in hours.
Held in an anvil of quiet the evening goes nowhere,
Waiting in expectation for a
Pause
That never comes.
March 00
Walking by a curve in a river late one evening with young children in autumn.
And here's a famous poem about
Trees, written by the American poet Joyce Kilmer in 1913.
DAYS
I've drifted across a day like a cloud,
Wasted the wealth of hours,
Washed my face in dreams
And touched on the Infinite Almighty with a prayer.
Other days I've rushed round like a tornado,
Smashed through minutes,
Seen Time flit away
And finished with a Bang not a whimper
As my exhausted head hit the pillow.
Who is to say which is right ?
Sometimes my days are slow, sometimes my days are frantic.
YOU WERE JUST HIT BY A VORTEX OF UNCERTAINTY
A swirl of chaos spins across the room -
Doors open, a phone rings, a drink is spilt on the carpet,
And as suddenly it's gone, leaving us breathless,
Irritated, flabberghasted,
As crazy as those times when,
Driving through town,
For a quarter of a mile cars career around,
Overtake, don't signal, sound their horns -
God's hand spinning a finger lazily
Through the liquid of our lives,
Sending mini-vortices of confusion
Across the planet's surface,
Even through my front room.
October 2001
Have you ever come across those moments when everything suddenly goes crazy for no reason at all?
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Here's a dark and brilliant poem by Robert Bruce about when everything suddenly starts to go haywire.
THESE POEMS
I can't help myself with these poems,
If poems are what they are -
A few words that become a torrent
And then subside,
Well up again,
Captured before they ebb away for all eternity:
And in that capture I find
Some primitive release,
A longing absolved,
A pent-up problem solved.
A poem about writing poems!
THIS IS THIS
This is this
And that is as it should be;
Who knows,
There's no telling
And in the end
It will be -
Because,
All over the place
Things aren't what they seem,
Never are,
It's all in the eye of the beholder
And what do you know ?
I know prose that says nothing,
In a rhyme
Says lots of things, really.
A nonsense poem about cliches that can be thrown together into the shape of a poem and suddenly say something meaningful. Which is that cliches can be thrown together into the shape of a poem and seem meaningful.
I CAN WRAP MYSELF IN A WORLD OF WORDS
I can wrap myself in a world of words,
Knitted around my head
In a colourful spelling of character and place,
Mood and time,
Feelings and fascination -
A world where the only sound is mine,
Where the only dance is the dance of ryhme,
Where the rythm's chase is completely sublime
And the capture of a word in a sentence
Means more than all the weight of politics,
Almost as much as a star falling into place
Or the kiss of a summer's leaf by the wind.
A poem about the power and joy and wealth and richness of words.
Judgement Day
Good morning, folks:
Regrettably, this is the end of the world.
Step right up, now -
Your chance, your last chance,
To find forgiveness.
Yes, lady, step right up -
And you Sir, would you like peace of mind?
Madam, I can see that you're keen on disasters,
And this is one heck of a disaster waiting for YOU!
Yes Sir, this is the way!
Step right up here, just take your place, thankyou!
Please! - is there anyone here who hasn't heard of God?
You Sir, with the funny hat -
No, not you, the other one,
Yes, you Sir! You with the drink problem,
Have you heard of a Higher Power ?
You have?
And you Sir with the smile now -
I see you haven't been paying your taxes of late.
Madam - your religion please!
No - not you. That one there.
I'm sorry, that's not true, you've been lying now,
Both to yourself and to your neighbours.
Sir! - don't try and walk away!
Please! I can still see you!
Joe - bring him back.
Madam, I see you've brought your children up all wrong -
They lie and cheat and steal -
What have you to say for yourself ?
No love, I don't think so , money had nothing to do with it,
Nor your husband, neither.
Step right up folks, step right up,
Your fortunes read, your future told,
Your pasts dissected,
Change implemented.
Yes sir, I can do that at a price,
But can YOU handle it?
Step right up, this is the end of the world,
Closing down sale, your chance to change -
Up now, come on folks, this is the place to be,
Step right up!
Yes Sir! You madam! (That one there, Joe).
Here Sir. Thank you love.
Step right up! Up now!
Change begun,
Decisions made!
(No love, you have to do that,
I can only sell you the motivation.)
Decisions made now, decisions made!
Get that one, Joe - there.
Change implemented,
Motivation sold !
Can you handle it, love?
It's a big step, you know -
No love, I only sell it, I don't need it myself.
Come on, now, come on,
Find your forgiveness!
Madam! Sir!
And you there, child -
What have you been doing with your life of late?
No son, that's not good enough, you should be doing better.
Special offer for your parents - !
Yes m'am. No love. That doesn't count -
I'm sorry, you can't blame the kids. Nor society neither.
No, really. I'm sorry.
Step right up. Raise your hands for forgiveness!
Motivation sold!
No sir, that gent there just asked that,
You have to make the change yourself, I only sell you the reasons.
Think about it, son, think about it -
Suit yourself, Sir, it's a free world.
Step right up, end of the world,
Closing down sale,
Not long to go,
Make your decisions now!
Of course it's your decision, love, I just make it easier for you, that's all;
Yes Sir! Is there an honest bone in your body?
No, I didn't think so either,
I can always pray for you, but will it do any good?
Step right up, step right up, step up now, up!
Closing down sale, closing down sale - end of the world!
Sept 2001
THE FLICKERING OWL IN THE CORNER
That the flickering owl in the corner
Eats my spirit
No one can deny:
But beat me with a banana,
Splash my face with water,
Chase me with your hoop-la,
I'm not gonna die.
That the flickering owl with the wide eye
Is good for me
No one can deny:
But feed me with its opium,
Spear me with magic uranium,
Don't bust my head with its learningum,
I don't wanna fly.
Poem about T.V - it's soul-destroying (but I don't care) or it's educational (but I'd rather have my mind numbed)
A DREAM RISES
A dream rises,
Ebbs and flows,
Chases round the City,
Becomes a smaller dream where today's Prince goes.
They say you can fly with this dream,
Touch planets,
See inside minds
Weigh upon the wind
And float through Earth -
I don't know ...
Hmm. Well, what's this about then?
WHEN I SULK
Oh, I've sulked,
Stridden away,
Hidden in that neck of the woods
At the bottom of my garden
Where mountains grow
And trees breed strange fruit
For my dark pleasure -
I've travelled on rockets,
Seen the stars,
Kissed the soul of the moon
And wondered exactly what it is that worms feel.
See ?
I've been there,
Done things,
Cursed curses,
Kicked ass,
Fired guns
And blown up buildings.
When I sulk
I travel the world,
Shoot strangers,
Create mountains,
Fly to the sun,
Ride on planets,
Drift on the seas,
Wash the face of the moon.
When I sulk
I pick up loose women,
Drive fast cars,
Hurt cats,
Make Nobel discoveries,
And win prizes.
Yes - when I sulk
I really, REALLY sulk,
Sulk 'till all traces of my sulk have gone,
Sulk 'till the earth is filled deep with gloom
And trees wished they could all die,
Sulk in an all-out battle of Will between all worlds!
Then, feeling better, I meander back in,
Casual-like,
Insouciant, as if nothing's happened,
(Or ever could)
Keeping all my dirty little secrets
In one small smile
I hide behind my face.
When I sulk, I really, really REALLY sulk.
Oct. 2001
ILLUSIONS
These squares are all an illusion:
Light reflecting onto cells in the eyes,
A brain that interprets distance
And makes sense out of chaos.
Reality is a whirling mass in the emptiness of space,
A rock rotating at high velocity as it shoots in an expanding cloud
To the edge of the Universe.
Reality is a maelstrom of particles
Dancing in a loose bonding around each other,
Held in a fraction of time to seem a door,
A carpet, and what I stare at - a lino floor.
Our reality isn't quite what it seems.
THE LITTLE DRONES
The little drones climbed the stairs.
Climbing stairs was easy for the little drones,
Because their minds worked like stairs.
For the Queens, however, it was not so easy,
And the little drones, wishing to be dominant,
Effortlessly outflanked them.
The Queens sat down and began to think.
The Queens' minds were different.
They saw patterns and interactions,
And their thoughts needed no logical foundations
But flew down from the stars.
Stairs would never work for them.
So they began to make groups,
And the groups had meanings,
And the meanings were worth struggling for,
And in the sophistication of their interconnections
The little drones didn't stand a chance.
Sept.00
It's becoming a female world.
CONSIDER THIS
Consider this - that though I say I love you,
Love dies at the lips;
Consider this, that though at times I hold,
There's no mystery in the grip;
Consider this, that though at times we bond and make
All earth move, it is no great shakes;
Consider this: this marriage is a mystery,
That works without Divine laws -
Is shaped and tamed, contains its' flaws,
Still holds water,
Loves and dies,
Is reborn on a second,
Shattered by your cries -
Consider this: do you consider this?
2/3/99
Marriage, partnership - when you get too close to someone it's easy to treat them in an off-hand manner.
WHAT IS A DREAM?
What is a dream?
A dream is a goal,
An inspiration,
A dream is where Hope lives,
A dream is something to chase when life drags us down,
A dream is a song in the wilderness,
Good flowering from the mud of evil.
This is a dream.
Get yourself a dream,
Touch God and pray
And never, ever let your dream get away.
Bit lame, but what the hell
COME, TEMPT ME, SILENT HOUR !
Come! Tempt me silent hour with all thy force,
Draw out the moments’ passions spent and gone,
Let motion run its ever-weary course
For silence holds deep feelings that have won.
Sense now the mystery of the still :
In touch, the lightest strangeness chase, be calm;
Of this clear water briefly drink my fill
And recharge my truth where there’s no harm.
For when I travel most I least can see,
But in the tide of motionless am proud -
Upright and strong I drink from that same well as thee
Where all that is remains most straight, unbowed.
Silence! There is a song when you are right ;
When briefly I give up my strangest fight.
13/7/00
A poem all about seeking stillness and silence. Didn't quite get it to work.
ALTHOUGH I SEEK
Although I seek, my shadow isn't there -
That shade that leads me does not spell my name
Or write on mountain walls that I must dare :
Only there is silence, and more the same,
Telling me a nothing for my prayer.
I hasten on, impatient for life's game,
I hasten on, but hasten on nowhere -
In me there lives an ancient, dying flame,
But where 'tis, how 'tis, soon is past all care.
Am I alone - will no one comfort me ?
Am I alone to fathom this despair ?
I yearn most for a simple destiny,
I yearn to slip this bitter tasting air.
Freedom, you troubling fiend, you're mine somewhere.
Struggled with this one. All about trying to discern a future, sending up futile prayers to find the direction I'm meant to be going in.
WHY, TEMPTATION, MUST I GIVE IN TO THEE?
Why, temptation, must I give in to thee,
Why fight, then fall beneath your curse˘d grip:
Lost in moment's madness, pleasure see,
The instant of my strength, weakness one slip ?
Why, temptation, must your long shadows play
Strange yearnings unseen on my cleanse˘d mind;
Renew thyself in death for thy new day
In one who, replete, to you's now blind ?
Temptation, I have this quarrel with you -
Your peace is but a pause before you strike :
And worse, before my mortal pace is through
I fear with me you'll do as you like.
For I am foolish, proud, and not so strong:
Temptation, with me you can do no wrong.
A poem about temptation - always at the moment you think you've conquered it, when you're at your strongest, it strikes. And when you've over-indulged and are no longer tempted, when you think you've immune to it, temptation is renewing itself.
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