unending summer

 

a softer kind of green that won't recall
the crowing cocks at every time of day
nor tropic trees with roots in the hard clay

of suchlike things the memories must fall
into the silence for we must not stay
a softer kind of green that won't recall

times when the watcher still felt very small
on mountaintop looking down at the bay
while behind the tall trees would gently sway
a softer kind of green that won't recall

every spoil is a style

there are no shadows on the malvern road
at noon when nothing moves not even pain
the mind i carry is my direst load

the aura tells me head ought to explode
what's knowledge for if i can never gain
there are no shadows on the malvern road

the threat of suffering is the surest goad
but nothing at this moment could be plain
the mind i carry is my direst load

under the rock squats an old warty toad
happy to wait for the next soothing rain
there are no shadows on the malvern road

now we are learning there's no sure abode
grass must be eaten and we'll cut the cane
the mind i carry is my direst load

we wait for secrets but don't know the code
against the angry past we have to strain
there are no shadows on the malvern road
the mind i carry is my direst load

glimmers in shadow

 

naming the monster makes it disappear
but not the tree lit up by setting sun
still there' s no tiger that we have to fear

walking through places that are not held dear
none could expect that you would choose to run
naming the monster makes it disappear

a turn through darkness will make nothing clear
beasts and humans alike the road may shun
still there's no tiger that we have to fear

another hill to climb and then no care
of men who carry sword or noisy gun
naming the monster makes it disappear

reaching the gate dim in the star-lit air
another journey soon must be begun
still there's no tiger that we have to fear

over the distance one might have to stare
plans made and scattered are yet far from done
naming the monster makes it disappear
still there's no tiger that we have to fear

five-minute warning

 meanings collide expectations shatter
upon each head there comes a crashing blow
no time left to chide much less to flatter

singers today in their boring patter
state not a thing that anyone could know
meanings collide expectations shatter

the best of dogs a determined ratter
chases its prey through heavy rain and snow
no time left to chide much less to flatter

the old folk liking to chat and natter
have no place left where they could easy go
meanings collide expectations shatter

ruler above madder than a hatter
bird compounded of noisy dove and crow
no time left to chide much less to flatter

here and now opinions don't matter
waiting for the radioactive glow
meanings collide expectations shatter
no time left to chide much less to flatter

an utter silence

 

divinities that speak in other terms
whose power is not as dark or absolute
music that echoes on the drum and flute
heat not measured in any joules or therms
towers arising upon steepest berms
and now each one of us is wholly mute
facing these beings of sternest repute
knowing the feelings of beetles and worms
now magic does not come from any sense
of who we are or how we ought to be
but out of life that we may understand
between us and the other stands a fence
making it difficult clearly to see
what is the mirror of the painful land

no larger mercies

 a rougher touch than we were meant to feel
upon each body there's a sense of cold
crueller and harder than the sharpest steel

before the king other than knights must kneel
it's not enough to know worthy and bold
a rougher touch than we were meant to feel

from certain judgments there is no appeal
some have the duty statutes to uphold
crueller and harder than the sharpest steel

not only cowards want to shout and squeal
warnings we fear have all been left untold
a rougher touch than we were meant to feel

upon each heart the anger must congeal
too many here will not live to be old
crueller and harder than the sharpest steel

sparks rise to blind us as we turn the wheel
all that is known is we were bought and sold
a rougher touch than we were meant to feel
crueller and harder than the sharpest steel

fresh-made country road

 a layer of limestone blinding at the noon
no shimmer though from distant sight of sea
yet envy of the vultures flying free

asking of life no complicated boon
but water ready hot for making tea
a layer of limestone blinding at the noon

i listen now to hear the wild birds croon
no sounds but nature's underneath this tree
no one would bow their head or bend the knee
a layer of limestone blinding at the noon

not only pitchy-patchy

 behind the mask a man becomes divine
no simple act but transformation pure
a measure hidden when we pass the line

fates separate or come to intertwine
none of us starts expecting to endure
behind the mask a man becomes divine

the dancers come a signal and a sign
of earthly life receiving its great cure
a measure hidden when we pass the line

once truly clad nothing you see is mine
the human part is merely a sad lure
behind the mask a man becomes divine

to wear the costume requires a stout spine
and bearing that is noble not demure
a measure hidden when we pass the line

to a dead past our normal selves consign
appear in public powerful and sure
behind the mask a man becomes divine
a measure hidden when we pass the line

at no one's beck and call

 

the stars above us with their glow
illuminate no simple places
we aren't the ones who want to know
just what is hidden by our faces
we move on upwards fast or slow
leaving behind the merest traces
each night there is another show
of all the righteous airs and graces

alarmed by every sort of call
we wait for others to agree
behind each happy sight a wall
is hidden yet the wise may see
the days are not so very tall
but last as long as we decree
the rain we hope will start to fall
before we want to go on spree

echoes across the empty plain
the voices of the storied past
those symbols of another pain
each wanting sure to be the last
all messages of hope or gain
upon the silent seas are cast
we leave behind some kind of stain
and all the heroes stand aghast

a meaningful sort of command
in proper ceremonial rite
defines to whom the very land
belongs and who is not in sight
of what the hardest-working band
brings back in profit day and night
the older practices are banned
and not a candle may burn bright

years may not pass before the dawn
of newer ways and better hearts
a host of weeds covers the lawn
no one assembles all the parts
brain counts for half as much as brawn
and armour cannot blunt the darts
the stag may overcome the fawn
but we have not the sable arts

careful attention

 pale autumn sunset
across green forest silence
pleasant the shadows
inside no voices speaking
observing the fading light