forbear

Apr. 25th, 2013 06:13 pm
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 in this stark universe no secrets left

for hawk-eyed seekers that's what we must know

to keep our minds still centred on the flow

 

of bodies moving with uncertain heft

from truth to fact like water from the snow

in this stark universe no secrets left

 

so what we find is that some sort of theft

has changed the weight of matters it is so

uncertain now and we are trapped below

in this stark universe no secrets left

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 far out beyond the eastern shore

where all our senses ought to fail

the howling realm of shark and whale

 

exist dim hints of something more

another place on larger scale

far out beyond the eastern shore

 

what's there is easy to ignore

the oceans are too wide to sail

waters are deep winds loudly wail

far out beyond the eastern shore

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 such clarity in morning sky

a world of promise showing green

with purple buds beyond the screen

 

no chance today the earth will dry

while we are caught in the machine

such clarity in morning sky

 

will soon be past the time goes by

swiftly to conquer the serene

leaving as record of the scene

such clarity in morning sky

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 the circle's now completed that is plain

even to those who will not trust their eyes

who weighted down by hope and by surmise

 

have given little thought to the campaign

and left the door quite open to the spies

the circle's now completed that is plain

 

for those who come here seeking rapid gain

and always eager to hurt or despise

the slow and gentle baffling them with lies

the circle's now completed that is plain

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 so many echoes in the rain

leave nothing of our vision clear

but when we breathe the morning air

 

the feeling's fresh the scent is plain

to all who notice yet we hear

so many echoes in the rain

 

that every ordinary brain

is forced into a deep despair

at oaths that we are forced to swear

so many echoes in the rain

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 so many orders of which none matter

in this harsh place where all words come to fail

in giddy smoke and stinking horses' stale

 

it seems that all our urges need to shatter

because we have not found the proper scale

so many orders of which none matter

 

but many fools who do not cease to flatter

yet will not stoop to help us when we ail

nor build a roof to shelter from the hail

so many orders of which none matter

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 in february when there should be frost

bright daffodils present in yellow bloom

such firm rejection of the winter gloom

 

it makes me smile not all the past is lost

and there are things that death will not consume

in february when there should be frost

 

we look on beauty and don't count the cost

of what it means to have full life resume

but take each step and see beyond the doom

in february when there should be frost

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

where fallen angles now define true space

in steady motion of my dull dead blood

the quantity of which threatens to flood

 

beyond proper confine without such grace

as is expected in these times of mud

where fallen angles now define true space

 

our acts come under limits we can trace

out of the silence through each heavy thud

of closing vision as hope turns to dud

where fallen angles now define true space

 

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

we watch the summer swallows swoop and soar

beneath the heavy  clouds while  children sleep

oblivious to the way  the long hours creep

 

 

like mice through the long grass so we abhor

the many pressures that have made us weep

we watch the summer swallows swoop and soar

 

 

so near our heads it must affect the score

and strike our hearts  the fountain's source is deep

in native rock meanwhile like passive sheep

we watch the summer swallows swoop and soar

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

the key is getting human feeling right

not only understanding of the fact

and  answer blending suavity and tact

  

but proper sensing of the victim's plight

with sentiments concrete and not abstract

the key is getting human feeling right

  

then sitting with the injured through the night

binding their wounds when they had been attacked

ensuring they had the one thing they lacked

the key is getting human feeling right

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

these storms have turned the world all green

and sunlight limns the leaves in gold

no time today to chide or scold

 

we look and smile the birds all preen

while eager hunters become bold

these storms have turned the world all green

 

for beauty we have set the scene

a story known and often told

that hearts are broken and consoled

these storms have turned the world all green

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

for a short while we sit and watch the sea

the ships that pass the people on the shore

and then turn back to what we were before

 

there's understanding here of what must be

a straightforward accounting of the score

for a short while we sit and watch the sea

 

smile at the world knowing that we agree

on the good things that no one could want more

than such warm moments till the final door

for a short while we sit and watch the sea

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

this empty form with simple sound

is filled echoes amplify the space

they occupy but lack  the grace

 

to be both honest and profound

as keepers of spirit and pace

this empty form with simple sound

 

becomes the whole complete and round

that we desire more than the chase

of life itself marked on each face

this empty form with simple sound

carpentry

May. 28th, 2011 06:01 pm
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

what's given forth may come out true

we lose at first just so we learn

the complex tricks and in our turn

 

teach each young one to pay their due

expend a little and discern

what's given forth may come out true

 

each change will mean the world made new

by other hands and thus we yearn

to see the old fires once more burn

what's given forth may come out true

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

the echoes never cease in time

so we are stuck on the cliff face

losers without redeeming grace

  

those farts that in primordial slime

began old evolution's race

(the echoes never cease in time)

  

now seem to us divine sublime

but were just stinks in some dark place

far from the light or so we trace

the echoes never cease in time
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

dull red and heavy is the morning sky

the storm is coming  so we are afraid

while time is wasting yet to make the grade

 

the air's unmoving birds refuse to fly

there is no hope that the great storm's delayed

dull red and heavy is the morning sky

 

no better world is showing to the eye

what's been released we hope will not degrade

beneath the coming rain yet we're dismayed

dull red and heavy is the morning sky

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

we're faced with everything but honest grief

hard lies are shouted in the open street

and pleasant words recited in retreat

 

by both the kind physician and the thief

until we think the harsh venom is sweet

we're faced with everything but honest grief

 

so we resile still there's no real relief

for either broken hearts or weary feet

since life itself turns out to be a cheat

we're faced with everything but honest grief

poui

Jul. 18th, 2010 11:36 am
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

pale yellow blooms under a silver tree

out of a legend that we do not know

this warm reminder with its pallid glow

 

absent all anger absent too all glee

for a short season we absorb the show

pale yellow blooms under a silver tree

 

so magic fills the air and what we see

is all the ground covered in golden snow

a lovely moment if we let it be

pale yellow blooms under a silver tree

swallows

Jun. 6th, 2010 08:05 am
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 

no grieving then but seize the darting joys

that pass like summer birds above the lake

enjoy the time and all the things you make

 

ignore the pain avoid the childish noise

see how the breezes still the reeds do shake

no grieving then but seize the darting joys

 

before they pass on to new girls and boys

as life requires since every reed must break

eternity's the dream that we mistake

no grieving then but seize the darting joys

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

you think we missed the road when we did not

make the right turn  and soon were in the corn

a point of loss but she was not forsworn

 

and got us out of there to the right spot

no loss of time nor yet reason for scorn

you think we missed the road when we did not

 

our guide had things to say and just forgot

the proper way you know her heart was torn

but still we passed right by where she was born

you think we missed the road when we did not

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fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
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