Eric Bult Biography

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.
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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.
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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.
...