the nature of the process

win or lose the message stays the same
events are measured by a single rule
the act is now inherent in the tool
at its most serious it remains a game
inside or out the thing is just a frame
we'll have to fit inside it warm or cool
we remain always in the same old school
and we're the only ones we have to blame
the season's one for making up new plans
a task that must be accomplished very soon
the structure lasts forever and a day
yet we've to face the limits and the bans
our light is still mounting up to the noon
only with purpose will we make our way

a harbinger of spring

the unexpected warmth at autumn's end
the springlike day the mediterranean sky
these are our truths and yes we cannot lie
yet perfect days like this to cold must trend
ice rain and wind are waiting round the bend
we know this and we know that time will fly
yet to hold on to these days we wish to try
as light and shadow in stark beauty blend
the best things always pass and this we know
but truth and desire will always be at war
the marvel is that we can see such things
the walls with buttery light are all aglow
we accept the gift we will not ask for more
but take the beauty that each season brings

herding

there are times when you just want to smash
the stupid animal that will always disobey
you know that there will be the hell to pay
but orders and instructions are just trash
uphill you know you soon will have to dash
to breakfast long after the true start of day
voices will grumble in the normal way
and you will run for every moment's cash
the world of fences hills and goats and cows
the sky that even in drought is watery blue
that past is what in memory you'll get
the future with its bright promises and vows
gives hope that life will have a different hue
but nothing ever will permit you to forget

ego and superego

the stern thunder-god knows only to command
the subjects in their turn only submission know
each affects in his own way the truth to show
lightnings erupt with vigour from his large hand
the trees are blasted but the reeds withstand
they have the power in them to take the flow
and keep their heads while others have to go
the powerless in their submission understand
the storms are not eternal the calm will come
and hills and cliffs can shelter at least some trees
the wisdom of the skies is no fixed thing
the times for all addition have yet no set sum
to give the prompter and accountant ease
old gods may shout and roar but we at least can sing

speed bonnie boat

a song that catches us with its fine tune
we hear the words and then we do not know
how they fit in our minds now seem too slow
we need at once this undergrowth to prune
to shape the space wherein we may commune
it's time to halt the movement to and fro
to damn the stream in each way halt the flow
the time for pausing cannot come too soon
a time to sing and then a time to shout
a time to weep and then they say to crow
a time to dance and then a time to creep
we've got our proper times we cannot flout
the proper order of the high and low
what matters is that there'll be time to sleep

backwards across ocean

the frame we fit will not give us true shape
alive or not we'll overcome its squeeze
we'll take no formal limits like the breeze
outward we'll flow right past the final cape
let others less inventive have to scrape
a living beneath the cruel gaze that sees
the weaknesses beneath the shading trees
and its harsh light our tender minds will rape
whenever we seek for some ease or pause
the whip will come down firmly on our backs
not for a moment can we flee its might
we're trapped by our own creatures rules and laws
our limits given when we pay the tax
but nothing matters while we have the light

pantheon

in this season it seems gods are born
old sol himself has his rebirthing day
and mithras came as well i have to say
it was ordained by fate as well as norn
that zeus would also eat well of the horn
and jesus enter in the season's fray
with divinities of whom there's less to say
and the phoenix of old age at last shorn
the axial tilt gives us this changing time
elliptic cycle that this world renews
a power beyond the gods must set the stage
but rather blame primæval human crime
and praise the thing that within us eschews
the guilt that sends forth folk on pilgrimage

december's happiness

in your great shining i was given light
a sudden and complete illumination
this is the barrier against the fall of night

there's nothing minor trivial nor slight
in this amazing fact of contemplation
in your bright shining i was given light

given this lustre my words take flight
there's only joy in their fresh aviation
this is the barrier against the fall of night

at last my mind can shake free of its fright
with happiness at this amalgamation
in your bright shining i was given light

before i was caught up in a strict plight
your presence here betokens liberation
this is the barrier against the fall of night

again i thank you grateful for the bright
aura that comes from this happy lustration
in your bright shining i was given light
this is the barrier against the fall of night

(no subject)

all night upstairs we hear them moving stuff
or washing or clomping with heavy feet
as if their flat were some quite busy street
and nothing that occurred was quite enough
it makes me wish that i were the kind of bluff
hearty rugger type who'd find it neat
to march right up there and at once entreat
and if they answered no become quite rough
i'm not that type alas i'm far far too mild
to march upstairs in outrage and confront
the tiny neighbour with the bovine tread
instead i wonder how they've got so wild
when she's just a slight and tiny runt
who makes all of the noise above my head

anecdote

endeavour it all
motion is its own reward
connection matters

the story is old
solemnly it is retold
tradition demands

what we now command
is not magic but golden
thread of liberty

in my craft or sullen art

 

the rules require metre sense and rhyme
the last is easiest in this smooth tongue
the sense alas is all too often wrung
out of the metre in this sodden clime
the master of these three alas is time
on which all hopes we've ever had are hung
both those we've hollered and ones unsung
we laugh and caper when we're at the prime
none but the bold will ever find the way
to the true verse that's inside every heart
and let the music that's held captive out
yet now when night has conquered day
we find the answer out by careful art
and tell the whole world with a merry shout