each action taken

 each action taken so fine and precise
brings changes not apparent to the eye
while those who fear too much will hurry by

not easy on this day to cast the dice
a signal will appear up in the sky
each action taken so fine and precise

the least important scurrying like mice
do not have voice enough for a small cry
to gods and demons of the better lie
each action taken so fine and precise

climbing ever higher

 

the world we have will never give us time
to do our work and find proper repose
we always have some new-made pump to prime
doors we must open and the windows close
good things support and all evils oppose
and this has never been a passing phase
we hit the target straight upon the nose
for what we know are the superior ways

what's foolish will one day become sublime
the vein of gold calm efforts will expose
and diamond glitter appears under grime
the orchard trees are blooming in their rows
and year by year each knows just how it goes
we find ourselves approaching the next craze
but not a conflict here will come to blows
for what we know are the superior ways

only the fools don't see beneath the slime
to plant that in due course becomes a rose
we say the clearest things in subtle rhyme
but they're not clearer in the plainest prose
the one who comments rarely ever knows
the likely outcome of the working days
still they'll still say their pieces we suppose
for what we know are the superior ways

prince you have seen such things in many shows
but know that every ending's a true blaze
the last one gets to tell us how it goes
for what we know are the superior ways

writing a sonnet

to write a sonnet is not something brave
nor is it yet a matter of wild luck
we dive in and we are not simply stuck
with words that are both humorous and grave
we use such concepts as our minds can save
and find the diamonds lying in the muck
or else the grains for which our fowls loud cluck
and here i've given you the full octave
you take your time and find that without force
the thoughts you have are not just fleeing birds
and you can speak your mind without regret
instead you find that things just take their course
and in their place you set the rhyming words
and here we come to end of the sextet

listening to bach

 

none has the power our spirits to detain
we don't belong in this benighted place
but do those things that go against the grain
our object's not to harm nor to disgrace
the ones who cannot keep up on the chase
not should you malign purposes assume
for we are here to clean with a new broom
but rather to establish a clear norm
a brightening of the encircling gloom
in winter's midst we strive to keep things warm

our reasons and objectives are quite plain
honour and dignity those we embrace
and are impervious to any stain
there's nothing that is shown in human face
that can the basic decencies erase
the truth is more than a fancy constume
nor should you on our patience now presume
while we are waiting for the coming storm
or else you'll find that we can lower the boom
in winter's midst we strive to keep things warm

we wait and wait for the reviving rain
and have much hope of such a kindly grace
since life is more than mere dolour and pain
and for the coming blows we steady brace
there's nothing here that would in time replace
the solitary flower's gentle perfume
even with sound of ocean spray and spume
the universe is not hard to transform
and there is more here than we could consume
in winter's midst we strive to keep things warm

prince each word you utter's a newer doom
than what we would expect when flowers bloom
but you insist on keeping proper form
the world's much larger than this tiny room
more than a charnel house or painted tomb
in winter's midst we strive to keep things warm

boyish adventure

 

in the dark gully there's no winding stream
a tiny forest where the spice trees bide
we see the creatures each twitching in dream

the sun comes in as occasional gleam
we have some time to climb the mountainside
in the dark gully there's no winding stream

at night we walk thanks to the clear moonbeam
while the night birds make little rodents hide
we see the creatures each twitching in dream

the low clouds seem to us a mist or steam
and on the dewy grass we slip and slide
in the dark gully there's no winding stream

for once we know that things are as they seem
and no one would demur or even deride
we see the creatures each twitching in dream

what we don't know is that we've got the cream
of life on sunny days bereft of pride
in the dark gully there's no winding stream
we see the creatures each twitching in dream

slave narrative

 

moment of capture
long walk to strange fort on coast
unknown the purpose

the middle passage
ignored by happy sea-beasts
not by hungry sharks

plantation practice
to survive the killing work
and speaking monsters

the slave resisting
reclaiming a lost honour
now is a hero

emancipation
not a gift but a promise
no easy freedom