autumn flowers

 

spring covers all in its rich coats of green
we love the warmer days and longer hours
the world seems cleaner with a brighter sheen
but still i want to speak of autumn flowers

a time will come when leaves have gone to mould
when we will daily long for warmer showers
we'll have a choice dull wet or brilliant cold
but still i want to speak of autumn flowers

the colours that i see will cheer the mind
revive good thoughts and all my native powers
leaving all sadness and sharp fear behind
but still i want to speak of autumn flowers

regard the fence in purple pink and red
the blooms stand tall not a one of them cowers
the plants seem happy in their fertile beds
and so i want to speak of autumn flowers

no map to heaven

 

a little space for thought in the clear light
no matter what we want we have to choose
either to struggle or else to refuse
and fall unmourned into eternal night
each ship that sets forth from the friendly bight
is one more chance we have to win or lose
to cheer the outcome or sink into blues
the words are black the paper's always white
there are strange ports that we reach in a life
through ordinary time but not plain space
where answers given are not always heard
promising increase or relief from strife
while pointing ever to a resting place
where all the power is but a simple word

at a drystone wall

 

framed in the evening light a mango tree
widespread and old with a huge deep dark shade
behind and under as evening parade
begins and we think ourselves truly free
of daily duties but we have paid no fee
to certify that we have made the grade
while high above us the light starts to fade
revealing worlds we were not meant to see
the sheep are full-fed and now seem content
while goats are bound for water and for sleep
and cattle ignore us while they still graze
and yet we are for distant venues bent
the sea beyond us not so wide nor deep
that it can hide the hope of other days

the only proper answer

 

where we belong is not in this old place
we tell ourselves in accents of a child
for what we have seems far too tame and mild

i search for recognition of each face
time is not yet so easily beguiled
where we belong is not in this old place

what is the world must also be the case
the fact and value shall be reconciled
and each event have been securely styled
where we belong is not in this old place

we send our messages to the new king
he does not listen to our sacred word
the line between safe and profane is blurred

yet swifter messengers are on the wing
that we should be ignored is just absurd
we send our messages to the new king

great enterprises will tomorrow bring
some other options we would have preferred
but with our choices all now have concurred
we send our messages to the new king

to rise in anger takes much more than will
folk on safe courses rarely seek to turn
even when others their goodwill may spurn

there are so many charges on the bill
more than a king could ever think to earn
to rise in anger takes much more than will

to take the castle on the final hill
cities must fall and villages shall burn
greater than us we quickly shall inurn
to rise in anger takes far more than will

regard the mighty as they face their fall
the lies they uttered better men had told
but now they face the fury and the cold

none of the great ones for now will stand tall
not one of them is either brave or bold
regard the mighty as they face their fall

the king must answer when the people call
for men and women weigh far more than gold
nor may their suffrages be bought and sold
regard the mighty as they face their fall

we regard power as one more form of grief
expect the worst of any who take rule
or you will end up face down in the pool

there is no trust in master nor in chief
they do not teach this now in any school
we regard power as one more form of grief

the truth we tell you is never too brief
we can the complex message here unspool
the one who serves is by no means a fool
we regard power as one more form of grief

no duppy runner

 

beside the road old spirits congregate
we hear their voices twitter in night air
while cold upon our necks is urgent fate

we left our starting time until too late
this is a place where people disappear
beside the road old spirits congregate

the road we pass on never has been straight
the way to safety is far less than clear
while cold upon our necks is urgent fate

darkness of history a deadly freight
there is no sanctuary in the square
beside the road old spirits congregate

we cannot sight or sound obliviate
those who might shelter simply do not care
while cold upon our necks is urgent fate

each will forget the season and the date
there's not a drop of courage left to spare
beside the road old spirits congregate
while cold upon our necks is urgent fate

liberty is not a dream

 

we do not leave a single root behind
the cords that bind us are extremely long
we take whatever givens we can find

we start our journey well and truly blind
and every turn we take we learn is wrong
we do not leave a single root behind

there is no past for which we could have pined
all our connections mean we must be strong
we take whatever givens we can find

beyond all horrors we are humankind
it is to ourselves that we most belong
we do not leave a single root behind

through annual struggle and daily grind
each is alone though always in a throng
we take whatever givens we can find

we find no answers but a questing mind
no cheery words but one heroic song
we do not leave a single root behind
we take whatever givens we can find