John May Poems

There, just below the moon's ascent,
Ethereal a figure went-
A silhouette, a dimly shade,
That moved towards him with clear intent.
...

I walked (eleven-ish or so)
A kid amid blue snow and slush,
When lo! that golden orb aglow
Ascending made the blue-air blush!
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He viewed afoot a silv'ry lake
And took himself to take a drink-
Then beauty moved his thirsting soul,
As there he bent above the brink.
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Our sun, that shiny orb our Lord,
That star amongst a billion bright,
Authentic outshines all their horde
And is alone Intrinsic Light.
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Does a pure heart a better poet make,
Whose inner frame is as by God begot-
Swaying, shaping what the writer would take,
And by this inspiration mold the plot?
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Those leaflets
Fell toward Aztec tombs

As Monarchs
...

My curses gazed upon the foe
Who perched on wires by the tree:
"Just who is it you seek, Old Crow,
The neighbor boy, or is it me? "
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There are no Absolutes I see
Eternal Truths can hardly be
Nor can I think there is a Law
That governs heavy over me
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I fell into a solemn sleep
Alone the other day

And waking found that I was reaped
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I've never shunned a winter day
And feel I never will
But last year when I rode a sleigh
There came a bitter chill
...