Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

A Life Tragedy

A pistol shot rings round and round the world;
In pitiful defeat a warrior lies.
A last defiance to dark Death is hurled,
A last wild challenge shocks the sunlit skies.
Alone he falls, with wide, wan, woeful eyes:
Eyes that could smile at death -- could not face shame.

Alone, alone he paced his narrow room,
In the bright sunshine of that Paris day;
Saw in his thought the awful hand of doom;
Saw in his dream his glory pass away;
Tried in his heart, his weary heart, to pray:
"O God! who made me, give me strength to face
The spectre of this bitter, black disgrace."

* * * * *

The burn brawls darkly down the shaggy glen;
The bee-kissed heather blooms around the door;
He sees himself a barefoot boy again,
Bending o'er page of legendary lore.
He hears the pibroch, grips the red claymore,
Runs with the Fiery Cross, a clansman true,
Sworn kinsman of Rob Roy and Roderick Dhu.

Eating his heart out with a wild desire,
One day, behind his counter trim and neat,
He hears a sound that sets his brain afire --

...

He is pruning the privet

of sickly sorrow desolation
in loose pieces of air he goes clip clip clip
the green blooming branches fall—‘they’re getting out
of hand’ delirious and adorable what a switch
we perceive multiple
identities when you sing so beautifully the shifting
clouds You are not alone is this world
not a lone a parallel world of reflection

...

Poets Dance in the heart of rhythms
Discussion spoken in the pen
Energy being tampered with in the music
Limitations rarely occur in audio-silence
Artist writes from the heart of rhythms
The Poets are dancing
Flaming hot ink drips from the pen
The paper it's a sacrificial victim
It just seems to lay still
there's no escape when the Poets Dance

...

185

"Faith" is a fine invention
When Gentlemen can see—
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency.
...

Thoughts spoken out loud
breath impelled below in the tidal estuary, in the river

in crevice and crevasse both in delight and light
by love and longing desire's invisible fibre

incomprehensible longing searching for words,
words turning out later to be the simplest thoughts:

there on the table, a bunch of yellow and gold bottlebrushes

...

Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations.
Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies
like a snowflake falling on water. Below us,
some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death,
snaps on his yard light, drawing his sheds and barn
back into the little system of his care.
All night, the cities, like shimmering novas,
tug with bright streets at lonely lights like his.
...

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
...

A BABY is the best to love,
She always smiles when you draw near,
Though ugly you may be of face,
No handsomer may interfere
And win her heart away from you,
Despite your faults she's always true;
And though you be unknown to fame,
A baby's love remains the same.

A baby's eyes are always bright,

...

when the world becomes
a nightmare
it's a living hell
when the world
becomes a nightmare
you know very well
that it is a
living hell
the smile upon
your face it becomes

...