Poems

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned out backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.-
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

...

The Pool Players.
Seven at the Golden Shovel.

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We

...

Languid, solo, nothing to limit or set up obstructions in this brain for it's always open and absorbing every note into a photographic memory.

Music now beginning to rush and charge quietly into the night, leaving no room for sadness or sorrow for a positive placating feeling eases all stress and turmoil.

Sliding along edges of pathways that're being creating as this pen silently inks its way across each line, no apprehension at all.

Feeling totally relaxed as an evaporative coolness flows upward exuding an intense positive energy in designs and patterns of musical measures.

Grasping and holding onto mind and intellect, never letting go, a lifeline that has served this mere poet's will all through life.
...