for mervyn at seventy

a poem should be tight as a virgin's cunt
subtlety's a plus though not the only one
words should shine bright as morning sun
and when needed should be short and blunt
each poem's a complex sort or stunt
you're never sure that you have got it done
until the rhythms like spring water run
joy is the heart of every writer's hunt
what you taught stays that's just the case
when the teacher is the one who really knows
not just the craft but how to teach the art
each poem takes up a particular space
as in the garden each fresh herb or rose
sits where it best rewards the soul and heart

ego and superego

the sound of my name is a thing that i hate
it's my sole inheritance the one thing left
by my father without it i would be bereft
and so i suppose it is my weary fate
to bear it to pass through each daily gate
wearing it on a lanyard with little heft
but still there, still part of the total weft
that is my life it is who i am i must state
and yet this label this graphic mark
is not my self though it's what others know
it claims to be a whole but is not part
it is not there when in the warm dark
i sleep and wander where all sleepers go
but every day it finds me like a dart

into the trenches

no place that we have made our own
for hours or days or months or years
has been worth a shrug or even tears
as each time we head to the unknown
onto what vehicles we bags have thrown
doesn't seem to matter beyond all fears
wherever we go we bring all of our cares
and duty has its seat upon the throne
now this is a different and a sharper turn
what we do will matter a long road
so we go with step both calm and wary
the things we get will be ones that we earn
the burdens those we choose to load
and that's both wonderful and scary

ends matter not beginnings

if there's a time when we deserve the sun
then that might be in evening not morn
the sunset matters far more than the dawn
and at the end we know who's lost or won
the journey's best at end not when begun
those who make it deserve praise not scorn
we judge folk at their ending not when born
the race isn't over until it has been run
that is the time when one should get the prize
not in the glitter at the starting line
but when one's breasting the final tape
there should be light sufficient for all eyes
it's in that moment that we things define
we praise the wine and do not judge the grape