Michael Shepherd

Oh it's so easy to say -

'Give what you think you lack -
You feel unloved? Then give love, and love, and love...'...
...

'There is no grief
which time does not lessen
or soften' -
so said Cicero, a man so often right;
...

I'd like to write - like grown-up poets do:
with similes that span the universe,
that sparkle, crackle, dazzle, woo the mind;
and touch the heart with tender, swoony verse...
...

A pretty girl
is like a simile
and vice-a-versa
so I'd say
...

This is an angry poem.
About those weasel phrases
which blow like paper in the street
going nowhere,
...

so there you are in
your pram or kiddikarria
nicely tucked up,
being talked to in that
...

He — or was it she?
was a child who said little
but walked, endlessly, just looking
...

I love you.

That's it, really.
all there is to say.
...

Someone mentioned your name yesterday
and I was silent

You loved goodness, you were goodness,
...

Who is that man who calls you ' a nobody'?
Oh, he's nobody.

Who is that man who says 'You're really somebody'?
...

Your bliss is not my bliss
and yet perhaps
if I tell you my bliss
there may be a place
...

and some other father at the club
says, has she flown the nest yet?
and it sounds so crude
you don’t want to answer.
...

A centre and an expansion
a life centred expanding
the force of the centre whirls
a life without limit but it says
...

Every poem is an invitation
for the readers to use their imagination

a vehicle licensed
...

Your friend is one who answers to your needs:
the field you sow with love, and reap with thanks;
you seek him for your peace, to hear his heart;
and when he's silent - still his heart you hear:
...

Straightway - it's the tone.
Even; quiet but clear; is it writing, or is it talking?
As if to family: you're being filled in
on what happened yesterday or last week;
...

O Great Spirit,
You who in Your form of the Chapungu,
the great eagle with sharper eye than any aeroplane,
watches over us and knows all things;
...

They were young lovers, and seated at the table in the window;
where in Paris they'd be watching
the passers-by watching them...
but no.
...

We see you every day
on the newsreels
a face like the worn map of tragedy
lined with a life of service
...

Everyone but poets
(who have their own allegiances)
would acknowledge it – you were, and I guess still are,
the most famous and popular poet of
...