Poems From the Precipice

 

 

Victims of Success

 

Nothing as precious in the star-spangled universe

Is to be found, than the multitudes

That can crystallise speech from air

With such guile that it leaves them unaware.

 

The trees and waves know no gods

But the snow bears the footprints

Of us that so consciously tread

Our past savagery so ceremoniously shed.

 

A constellation of humanity in a city square

Echoes more worth than a billion burning stars

And yet there are those who callously wish death

For us earning the might of godly breath.

 

How could the mirror of the species

Reflect such unguided hate

Towards the eyes that invented love

And composed names for the heavens above?

 

 

Away From Conscription

 

If the unjust death of a man cast a pall

On the visage of slow-growing beauty

Then should we throw a black-knit shawl

Upon the ascendant crawl of wounded history?

We grieve for death so viciously wrought

And cry vainly for utopia learned of soul;

But if failure should appear so hard-fought

Should we severe the ties of civilised control?

Whilst self-conscripted soldiers wage their shimmering war

Battling for a victory they pray may never come,

I shall watch on from history’s verse-jewelled shore

And sing hard-learned songs I hope can never be undone.

 

 

The Echo

 

Muses so much missed, whom do you miss the most?

Is it the poet by the sea that knew not of decay,

The composer listening to the tides on a laughing coast

Or is the painter interested only in the hues of the shanty bay?

 

Sometimes I wonder if it is you I hear

When I gaze on a marble tear on a nymph’s cheek

Or listen to a heavenly violin soaring so near.

But I fear utopia has rendered your voice all-too-meek.

 

Did you ever imagine man coming so close to perfection

Only to despise himself for not being perfect enough?

I remember when bleeding man in his agonised inaction

Summoned you out of desperation and love;

Is there anywhere left to engrave

Your name on an unseen grave?

One Comment Add yours

  1. Jack Eason says:

    Reblogged this on Have We Had Help? and commented:
    Some poetry for you all…

    Like

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