commonplace

the story's old the colours though still bright
the journey's much the same it is through life
we've learned enough to need no second sight
to understand there will be frequent strife
we love the sea but know its hungry call
promises much but delivers only death
it is so large in its face we're truly small
but have still what it most desires our breath
the end's the same though the trip may be long
we must arrive at the same destination
the old and weak as well as the young and strong
all must alight at last at the coastal station
we'd say that at the end some would know more
but no report's come back from that other shore

once upon a time

the river in the distance is broad and slow
the sea that stretches out is warmest blue
clouds that float above have come down low

i wonder at the the stream's most constant flow
i've got the answers given every clue
the river in the distance is broad and slow

the greens with grey are tinged i've got my hoe
to go to work complete the actions due
clouds that float above have come down low

rain comes or not to work i still must go
to till the earth now later the trees to hew
the river in the distance is broad and slow

in times to come i'll be surprised to know
how quickly the days passed and the time flew
clouds that float above have come down low

in the end we find the whole thing was a show
the meaning of which no one really knew
the river in the distance is broad and slow
clouds that float above have come down low

winter is coming

for once we know that the day will be bright
the colours of the leaves will warmly glow
cold though and damp will be the fall of night

nothing we do or say here will ever true requite
the debts that accumulate the things we owe
for once we know that the day will be bright

the flowers still blossom purple in the light
the green still holds promising change that's slow
cold though and damp will be the fall of night

distant the music there's no cause for fright
across the blue the few clouds almost flow
for once we know that the day will be bright

words we set down in hopes that they are right
eager to soften the unavoidable blow
cold though and damp will be the fall of night

sunlight reflects from the wall's bony white
lonely above there flies a single crow
for once we know that the day will be bright
cold though and damp will be the fall of night

Simple observation

In looking at the brightness of the day
I'm tempted to forget that it's not warm,
but still I've got to hope that work and play
will come together in a pleasant form.
Each day I'm to my task as duty's slave,
so many things to think about and do
until I've brought myself right to the grave
and life and love and beauty all are through.
I want to matter, want my words to act
in ways I cannot, want to not to forget
that what is done, the simple honest fact,
is all that's needful -- no cause to regret.
In short, I've got myself a little time
to say the things I need to say in rhyme.

a new beginning

the music dark and sombre fits the times
a season for surviving not for joys
in the distance the quarter bell loudly chimes

soon there's hope for better happier rhymes
from those who see their words as simple toys
the music dark and sombre fits the times

the early riser at the well-pump sighs and primes
working the handle with the strength of boys
in the distance the quarter bell loudly chimes

the morning traveller in all weariness mimes
rather than speaks even though it annoys
the music dark and sombre fits the times

the sun doing the expected slowly climbs
into the sky the soaring bird enjoys
in the distance the quarter bell loudly chimes

what's past is night with all its sordid crimes
now honest metal replaces cheap alloys
the music dark and sombre fits the times
in the distance the quarter bell loudly chimes