drawn into the sun

an eye that's lost is drawn into the sun
no matter what the moment of high cloud
a deeper value's given than was allowed
medals are nice after races are run
but so much has been said and little done
that not a one of us should still be proud
our speak a single word of it out loud
nor claim that of our merit we have won
sharper than knives the teeth of such a beast
as would arise to challenge our just claim
before the hand could touch the final door
there is a time to boast during the feast
of how you might have dashed into the flame
but not a one of you has faced that roar
 

measuring oceans

you want to measure oceans with a spoon
and weep when no one gives you reasons why
another man might leap right to the moon

those are the answers of a plain poltroon
we break the wheel upon a butterfly
you want to measure oceans with a spoon

such are the wailings of the last bassoon
beneath the bright stars of a stranger sky
another man might leap right to the moon

eager to dance but not inopportune
the weaver knows just how things go awry
you want to measure oceans with a spoon

what weeds and parasites the trees festoon
mile after mile these tales of earth belie
another man might leap right to the moon

let ancient singers their sad legends croon
while legends vanish in the purpling sky
you want to measure oceans with a spoon
another man might leap right to the moon

terror speaks

there is no sign that we come to a pause
the river flows with no sign of a dam
we draw out of its water not a dram
but others think that not a proper cause
to praise inaction or to start applause
so little time in life for us to cram
our hopes and dreams into this horrid sham
we stop and wonder at the frigid laws
that bind our actions and demand we serve
not with our hands but with our loyal minds
devoting to your kingdom all our arts
such thinking will too swiftly all unnerve
remove the light that all our sight now blinds
and leave untethered all that holds our hearts

honest folk

the way you tell it is always a lie
but when i speak you throw me into gaol
it's honest folk who always get to die

your contrails fill the grey polluted sky
when we speak up you shut down the e-mail
the way you tell it is always a lie

the children hunger and we hear them cry
you tell us that the story is now stale
it's honest folk who always get to die

armed forces are on regular stand-by
the latest enemies we'll soon assail
the way you tell it is always a lie

the well of kindness long ago ran dry
what's left would not sustain a single snail
it's honest folk who always get to die

well was it said that time would not supply
the gap when human warmth and goodness fail
they way you tell it is always a lie
its honest folk who always get to die

more marvels

more marvels than we wonder at in time
require durations longer than a life
a sense of humour sharper than a knife
and hope that lasts much longer at its prime
so that we do not call each love a crime
mistake the normal signs of growth for strife
and know that all with marks of grief are rife
we chain them up within the bars of rhyme
desires are laid out openly and plain
for those who want to see just how we make
the answer suffice for the world we've got
much will depend on just how much we gain
not on the things that others have to take
on what we do and just what you cannot