Michael Shepherd Poems

O come sweet sleep, and close my eyes with verse!
with drowsy metre, meet a deeper sleep;
to sleep, to dream, I never am averse -
to slumber numbed by poet's numbers deep;
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How many noble schemes from goodwill's heart,
how many splendid plans and fine ideas
have foundered, lost their glorious craft and art
through hesitancy born of baseless fears?
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There's nothing so becomes a man
as a local hardware shop - it expands
the horizons of his home improvement, and
brings harmony to his home life as
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The poet's world and the philosopher's
may seem to be in aim, and truth of act,
so different; the poet offers us
fine dreams of heart; philosophy, fine fact;
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What are the inward signs of truest love,
beyond the smile, the kiss, the touch of hand,
that joins our actions to the heaven above;
that constant love which shall for ever stand?
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As we know
(or like to think we do)

There are known knowns
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I was just staggering in the gate
with two heavy bags
from an exhausting week’s conference
when the conman and his accomplice
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There is a place where significance ends -
that is the place where the metaphors tire
and the similes dimmily fail to inspire
and the poem runs out in a meaningless flood
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Up that top flight of stairs
whose old, unvarnished wood
scrubs up so well and welcoming,
...