Eric Bult

How shameful is the tragic count of those
Who meet foul death whilst travelling by road:
At any time of day or night who knows
Whatever that dread presence may forebode?
...

How few of we mere mortals understand
That every star we see a sun may be
To planets in that distant wonderland
Where few may now sustain life such as we.
...

How speedily our senses mend, it seems
Those awful days that followed death's decree
Were simply players in a cast of dreams.
The play is ended and we are set free.
...

I liked the old days, hardly used the word
Frustrated. Even as a boy I knew
In business inter-action the preferred
Way was personal contact with the few.
...

So do I now with pride at last begin
My poem that forever shall be known
As number five hundred of those within
This crop of mostly sonnets I have sown.
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Now this is something that our ladies need
To understand before its time to go.
The truth of this is plain and is indeed
Astounding; thus they all should seek to know
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When I was young I never used the phone,
There wasn't one at home 'till I was ten.
And when I started work I went alone
To bank the cash for town's rates, such was then
...

The feeling that you've done this once before
Is not unusual, that I'm sure you know,
Perhaps it's something we should now explore:
But one thing you must know before we go.
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Obedience to unenforceable
But good, authority can only prove
Whether a people shall be governable,
And forward thus together they can move.
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My sonnets are not perfect so I must
Pursue with my intention to succeed
In ten long years I've dented but the crust
Whereof this passion was at first decreed..
...

For many years it seemed we humans are
Alone here in the universe, no sign
That life at all like ours was known as far
As anyone could tell us at the time.
...

We now are told by astrophysicists,
Who constantly seek other forms of life
That here within our galaxy exist
A thousand million Earthlike planets rife.
...

The calendar confirms another year
Will soon begin its slow majestic tread
Through time which some indeed have cause to fear
Though I have no such notions in my head.
...

His staring eyes and scrabbling fingers tell
Of weird experience he undergoes:
It seems he stares into the face of Hell,
But I'm assured he's merely in the throes
...

My spirit tells me you are with a life
That now is governed by a special brain
Which, knowing well the circumstance of strife
Enables it fine progress now to gain.
...

'Death by misadventure' is the phrase
Employed by Coroners when no foul play
Was evident or any doubt is raised
Concerning cause of death in any way.
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Research now apparently proclaims,
As oft it does without veracity,
That poets lose their minds, but I disdain
To contemplate such scurrilous mendacity.
...

I sure will miss you when I go.
Does this perhaps seem strange to you my friend?
No doubt it does, but then I also know
I have this firm belief it's not the end.
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He first did name our Earth the pale blue dot.
He wrote so movingly of humankind
And our conceived future in this spot
Within our galaxy where who might find?
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Why does my voice so often criticise
The conduct of affairs surrounding me?
It seems the circumstances that my eyes
Observe determine my capacity.
...