frog in the morning

 

frog on the porch size of a fingernail
seems to seek shelter from the pelting rain
tiny brown creature weighing just a grain
or so i think (perhaps my measures fail)
from the fierce heat i certainly must quail
but wonder what you seek and what you'll gain
what efforts you must make of might or main
on what you must admit is a small scale
you do not move but when i look you're fled
gone into grass and then i cannot say
life intersects and then things fall apart
i hope on vermin you have been well fed
and found in your short life a happy way
a tiny creature yet with so much heart

commend all summer long

 

savour each moment and still it will pass
into pale memory and lose all weight
the world is seen through a distorting glass

the truth is known to every lad and lass
who kisses and farewells at the closed gate
savour each moment and still it will pass

all human flesh goes on to make fresh grass
we know the ending although not the date
the world is seen through a distorting glass

taste and desire have feeling but not mass
we know reality comes always late
savour each moment and still it will pass

green or dull grey the answer remains crass
the best we do is never adequate
the world is seen through a distorting glass

age sex and status colour race and class
all in the end merely the price inflate
savour each moment and still it will pass
the world is seen through a distorting glass

a place to dance

the tale's been told
time does not heal
memory's cold
we can't appeal
lies now are bold
we're told to feel
that brass is gold
under the wheel

the eye is filled
with many tears
the hopes then killed
the constant cares
innocents grilled
morons with airs
the grain is milled
it has been years

rules now are made
to hold pain back
but there's no shade
we know the lack
hate makes the grade
all fades to black
one more parade
then we attack

the ones who died
are all now dust
the ones who cried
have lost all trust
we know who lied
and feel disgust
no blushing bride
no golden crust

we feel the shame
of showing fear
we take the blame
we were not there
there's been a claim
no one would dare
snuff out the flame
let in the air

too little time
too swift a shove
under the grime
a single glove
it was a crime
they say above
the moment's prime
still we may love

The framework starts to go

And what is left, since all now has been said,
but the salt tears of those who can't forget
the sunny day, begun with no regret
and ended after sight of falling dead?
A moment and the blue sky turns to red;
we're told that now we've got to make the bet.
The die is cast, the purpose now is set,
and decency and reason have long fled.
The count of death rises without a pause
and we are numb under late summer sky
to anything but our imagined pain.
We have no need for honour nor for laws,
only desiring the most soothing lie.
All memory vanishes in the hard rain.