Poetry

Here are the poems I've written in the last while. I started with the first one to inoculate myself against your criticism or at least to make you feel bad for thinking it. Of course, I always welcome constructive criticism or typo corrections.


Creative
Who are the creative ones?
Who makes the new?
Who sings the unsung songs 
And forms the formless true?

Strength and Spirit, Blood and Time,
Sacrifices all,
Crusted hair with layered brine
Mark creation’s thrall

To open the soul to acclaim or scorn--
All of Art’s a risk.
Uncovered dreams to be scarred and torn,
For all must hit or miss.

No joy without a try,
No day while unawake,
Step off the ledge to fly,
Create for life’s own sake.

Loathing will they offer,
Indifference at best,
And deride your precious proffer,
The child of your mind detest.

For all must face rejection,
Of such is this our life.
The heart bleeds dejection,
When stabbed with the critics’ knife.

Yet tastes are fickle and foolish,
One view stands supreme.
The verdict from you is the truest,
If you own your created dream.

For what is now was not.
Formed is the formless true.
From nothing it is wrought,
You have seen it to fruition
Breathed life to your ambition,
Without which there is no new.

Druidic Spooning
Solid as the oaken column,
Gentle as the summer’s breeze,
Hold me close, tender and solemn,
Underneath the meadow trees.

Time leaves us alone and hollow,
Fills our heads with constant fear.
For it’s always on the morrow,
One must leave the other here.

But right now, for an hour,
Or a second, hold me fast.
And perhaps some unknown power,
Will make such special moments last.

Unknowing
Into the dark meanders time
Heedless of the light
Of future days' predicted rays
That never last the night.
For the sun sets on the present
And fades a shiny plan,
The now starts in darkness
To humble a once sure man.

Soldier Rest (continuation of the poem by Sir Walter Scott)
Sailor, Rest! Thy Watch is ended,
Plow no more the troubled sea,
Let the torn sails sit unmended,
Feel the sure winds lift thee free.

On the fairer ocean’s span,
T’ward the Sunset clear and glowing,
Full ahead to promised lands;
Steady tailwind at thee blowing.

Sailor, Rest! Thy Watch is ended,
Leave the sheets and sails untended,
Toil no more on violent seas,
Float to Heaven on thy breeze.

Precipice
On this day the world is breaking
On the faultline we stand astride.
On to this side or the other,
Clear your person of the fissure.
Oh be quick, my straddling brother,
Commit forever to the making
Of the Choice you soon are taking
And the Choice you are forsaking
When you stand on the divide.
Leap and tumble to decide.