Jonathan Howard

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I don't see what's the big fuss about biographies; when I die, I hope someone may write one about me. To me all is important in my life, because that's what makes up my consciousness, so I don't know what you'd want to know. None of my autobiographies on the Web were too good, so far... Contact me if you want to know anything. I've been writing poetry since late summer 2004, and am very conservative about the way I write. I just like it that way. Luckily, my father teaches English & literature, so I have a reviewer at home!)

The Best Poem Of Jonathan Howard

The Dream

PART ONE

‘Twas down the street one gloomy night,
A lovely chill of air;
When near my eyes I saw some sight,
Right then I was aware.

A seabird swooped (I can’t deny)
Above my head (so fair!) ,
And as I gazed right through the sky,
Astonished I was there.

I stared up into holy bounds;
Their gates were opened [high]:
A land of havens, safe and sound,
Tucked just behind the sky.

Just out of holy scripts and books,
A scene so fresh and clear;
I could not shake off it my looks,
And thought: “It’s near – it’s here.”

Before my eyes lay an array
Of clouds blue and maroon,
And through that bright night shot a ray,
Right from the hidden moon.

And those deep clouds of darkened tones,
Were dark as night could be;
Like silhoüettes of heavy drones
Cast down upon the quay.

Out of a grand gap through the clouds,
The white light boldly shone;
Just spinning skies’-stuff and fog-shrouds,
Thus forming Luna’s throne.

As in the Dream, that lovely beam,
Revived grey, grim, with lime;
And staring at that vivid stream
Of light – moved me in time.

PART TWO

A dream I saw, so pure and raw,
A holy, reäl truth;
And Spirits holy [Wow! ] I saw,
My soul itself was soothed.

Napoleön and Cassiüs,
Old kings and senators,
Mark Antony and Juliüs,
And many professors,

So many dignifi ed, bold men
I viewed with shocked-out eyes.
And what I noticed oh, right then:
I’d travelled through the skies!

As if I were a lightning bolt,
I shot the Heavens through;
So quick and rapid with no halt,
I sensed that sky of blue.

The clouds had all just vanished then,
As I rose very high;
I could not see nor house nor men,
Whilst thinking: ‘My, oh my! ’

I slowed down to a virtual halt,
Views round me were so nice,
And then I felt a sudden jolt:
The gates of Paradise.

(Since when a man like me, a colt,
Would be so terrifi ed
That seeïng such – I’d feel a jolt,
And bashfully just hide?

And I could not just yet stay still,
I cannot choose but glide;
Although reluctant with no will,
I went through, hadn’t cried!)

PART THREE

The trumpet sounded bright and sharp,
Why holy, Abe there too!
He said to me, playing-on a harp:
“For thee We sent, come through! ”

I travelled through those gates of gold,
Along paths of great stone,
And even though I was not cold –
I shivered by His throne.

I met Lord God, for me He sent
With His almighty sword,
“Why Thou! Just and omnipotent
All-right and honoured Lord!

What dost Thou seek in humble me,
O, greatest of all gods?
For I am no one; O, prythee,
Attack me not with swords! ”

But Mighty God said plainly nought,
To me He spoke with mind;
I then inferred all that He thought,
Nor tranquil nor most kind.

“My land is no more holy ground,
It is a land of beast.
Ruled not by man as much as hound,
The hound of very least.

What man back in the past hath been
Is just a memory;
Divine can be no longer seen
As much as arbitrary.

Unless man reconstructs his trust,
And Me he lov’th again,
A plague upon the land I must
Unleash to ruin men.

‘Tis solely thine, thy only task,
To reconstruct My name;
‘Twill be perfect, do not ask!
For thou shalt have much fame.”

“Yet what was that I saw back then
Whilst shooting through the clouds,
Those famous and most noble men,
That drifted through fog-shrouds:

Napoleön and Cassiüs,
Old kings and senators,
Marc Antony and Juliüs,
And many professors,

Why have I seen those men of charm,
Of great and gracious deeds,
Those men who often caused most harm
In tidén of most need? ”

PART FOUR

Yet Lord God did not answer me,
In silence He remained,
He shot me off in tyranny,
And I myself refrained.

And then, I traced along the line
Of time, without a grip;
I felt no passage of fi ne time:
An end came to my trip.

The clouds rushed to obscure the gates,
The moonlit beams turned dim;
My face so swiftly lost its grace,
And joyful awe turned grim.

And as the gates shrunk, undersized,
The moonlight shaped a cone.
Moreover, I have realised:
The noble men were gone.

Napoleön was there no more,
And Cassiüs went just the same;
Old kings by now were not my lore,
And I would lose my holy fame!

The senators and Antony,
Have vanished momentarily;
All professors and Julií
Were losing form, so suddenly!

PART FIVE

The inspiration and the muse
Had left my corpse alone,
I’ve striven hard just not to lose,
Yet I was left to moan.

I now have neither inspiration,
Nor divine-most mood,
None of that vital information,
He thought I was crude!

Down melancholy streets at night,
I walk so grey and dull;
Most distant and remote, that’s right,
Affection is now null.

That dream had come to me just once,
I lost my ecstasy;
Yet once a while I sense the trance,
The bliss, the rhapsody.

(September 2004.)

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