from memory to purpose

words once written go
they vanish into nothing
their weight not golden

we gild the lily
still its loveliness appears
calming the loud day

what we know we know
vanishes into nothing
the world is so large

the rose of summer
casts odours to the breezes
soothing the hot soul

a moment's wisdom
it emerges from nothing
cycles of action

the deepest of wishes

threat or promise we desire the rain
to fill our parched cracked empty hearts
this is our vision and we see it plain

there's nothing for which we want to strain
lethargy weighs down all human parts
threat or promise we desire the rain

on river's edge we see the nesting crane
after soft prey with alacrity it darts
this is our vision and we see it plain

at night we seek the stars of charles's wain
their brightness is so clear it almost smarts
threat or promise we desire the rain

we fight for justice with full might and main
and find it sold for threepence in the marts
this is our vision and we see it plain

life carries on between joy and pain
survival is the plainest of all arts
threat or promise we desire the rain
this is our vision and we see it plain

write a poem about cricket

the yellow tennis ball and the coconut bough
marks of ambition on the concrete pitch
to think that playing games can make you rich
but that's not the question right about now
instead we want to ask just when and how
the ball can be hit halfway to the ditch
and one can get the runs without a hitch
where there's no umpire but a sleepy cow
names long forgotten run through every head
thoughts of great places to carry a bat
that take you far from this confining space
there's no time here for worry nor for dread
you dream of crying out at last howzat
and swearing oaths by the beard of grace

Where none has gone before

Across the distance messages return
from star-dates long forgotten by the stars;
the symbols in the crystal glow and burn,
embers of Klingon and Romulan wars.
And now we all such strife and conflict spurn,
and settle our disputes in spaceport bars.
Although some memories still rankle and vex
we celebrate, each in their turn, these treks.

From former neutral zone and wartime front
come tired heroes; they've been to and fro
from Picard's calm to some old Kirk-like stunt
they'll continue with their mission, make it so
whether they're diplomatic or they're blunt;
for the primal imperative is to boldly go.
And atoms, like infinitives, smash and split
yet, somehow, on each voyage, there is wit.

To distant quadrants of which nothing's known
by dynamic forces which they can't control
but which can't overcome them, they'll be blown;
alien and cyborg each find a human soul
and Vulcan shows his heart is not a stone.
To broaden human knowledge still the goal.
What, though we wonder, will their journey find
more wonderful than the frail human mind?

On deep space station there's another cause
controlling diverse species passing through;
aliens and humans finding common laws
are not enough, and yet each gets their due.
Each faces and comes to master normal flaws,
and each comes to take the other's point of view.
What binds them all together is the start
of shared understanding in each sapient heart.

And even pioneers, on their first enterprise
shocked and delighted by the things they found;
warmed, hurt, or frozen under alien skies
but still determined to stand on human ground.
Learning to sort hard truths from the soft lies
and ears attuning to the sphere's great sound.
No quantum leap this from earth to deep space
and yet we know this is their rightful place.

New fears for old

What we want is new horrors for the old,
enough of zombies, vampires, or trolls,
there aren't enough of them to fill the holes
that have appeared when it stops being cold.
The ones who want to fight them are so bold
and eager to go out on swift patrols;
they are the ones with well-developed souls,
who've done the job for more than mere gold.
New monsters are now needed, that's the case,
but ones that aren't just squamous or rugose,
monsters that will last beyond this year.
We want some monsters that will set the pace,
that won't be taciturn, nor yet verbose,
but will inspire some deep, gut-clenching fear.