Original poems 2017

[ladylinda]

Here's a poem to start off the New Year.

Watching a swan


I watch the swan glide whitely down the stream,
Her radiance piercing through the darkest night,
And even on this grey day, my delight
In seeing you in flesh, an empty dream,
Lifts my heart, makes it proud and surge like billows
In search of rest upon our troubled pillows.

You and I, swan, together glide through waves,
Your dazzling brightness shines on my dark skin,
Touching it with your luminous discipline,
Both in our own way free, both partly slaves,
Your wings outspread point out the path of light
To us, so longing to escape the night.

[ladylinda]

Away in a manger

Born in cold winter's night,
You lay in straw, a manger for your bed,
Straw born like me, yet in your infant head
The wisdom of the universe shines bright.

Who could have dreamed your destiny,
A king, not seated on a throne,
Crying your first mortal breaths alone,
No shadow yet of tragedy?

In this humble place you lay and slept,
While over you the angels kept
Good watch. Wise men and shepherds came,
Following the celestial flame.

Two thousand years have passed since then,
Yet, upon the lips of men
Your praise resounds, your fame renowned,
Your love for us is without bounds.

[ladylinda]

Anthropomorphism:

is it the loneliness of clouds
that makes them shed their tears onto the earth?
is the the sea's desire for the land
that makes it ebb and flow from tide to tide?

[ladylinda]

A Prayer:

Lord, I'm no angel, nor have ever been;
I don't know if there are such folk as saints
But if there are I won't be in their number
When they go marching in. My mouth is foul,
I'm told so often, and although I mean
Well on the whole, too many just complaints
About the deeds I've done will surely sunder
Me from all hope of grace. A willing heart
Is not enough to save me: though I howl
In penitential tears, I stand apart
Forever from your glory and your grace,
Unworthy to approach your dwelling place.

I who am nothing, worthless, dirty, low,
Ask nothing for myself, deserve to go
To an abandoned state, not Paradise,
My life too full of perfidy and vice.

Yet I remember how your guiltless Son
Died on a Cross: the sins of everyone
He took upon Himself. Can I believe
That through Him even I can find reprieve?

[ladylinda]

Ocean:

when the sea calls, shall the land answer?
when the waves sweep over like a ballet dancer
can the sand return its kisses? Always the same,
it comes and goes, not an abiding flame
but a brief candle, burning then snuffed out,
so the land and sea are in perpetual doubt
over the love and the professed loyalty
of the ever advancing and receding sea

the ocean laps the land - with love?
the roar of its waves a brutal shove,
a kind of rape into reality,
and yet the whiteness of her spume
as beautiful as the sweet melodies
she plays when calm, the ozone her perfume
to fragrance what was rock so long ago,
before she softened it with each small billow.

[ladylinda]

Smoke speaks:

now the fire is out,
though woodsmoke lingers in the air,
haunting my heart with fading memories

[ladylinda]

The peace of roses:

walking among the roses and their scent
I lose my loneliness, my grim despair,
love-drunk on fragrance seeming to ferment
in my lost heart, our tragic earth seems fair

[ladylinda]

Sheep:

the shorn sheep
feel the cold wind on their now bare flesh,
stripped of their wool,
how can they feel anything but cool?

[ladylinda]

The walk of hope:

feet, forever walking,
never finding shelter or rest,
around us, ceaseless talking,
as we fly each abandoned nest

the web of life around
spins out its endless carousel;
our feet across the ground
seek to escape from hell

gliding endlessly over the land
we nourish earth in our breast;
our spirit knows an unseen hand
will one day let us rest

[beth]

Nice group of poems, Lin. Ocean is my favorite.

[ladylinda]

Thanks; I've written quite a lot over the long holiday period and I'm slowly posting some of them.

[ladylinda]

Lunar beauty

('This lunar beauty has no history' - W H Auden)

the imprisoned stars shiver in terror,
locked forever into their loneliness,
yet even in darkness a brief mirror
shines on this earth, its silver loveliness
soothing the pain, dwindling in each breast,
scattering light upon the sleeping flowers,
most welcome among us of all night's guests,
shedding safety in our nocturnal hours

[ladylinda]

(A topical poem)

Trumpety Trump:

the adrenaline rush that carried you
on a cloud of venom, vitriol and promises of victory
has hardened into fists of fury, hammering
endlessly into the faces of imagined foes

the hot air you exhaled floated you
onto cloud nine, delivered up to you
the keys of the kingdom, making you seem to hover
above us like Superman or Batman

but you are only mortal, and fairly old,
and time will wear you down, though not mellow you,
and those who stand for liberty watch anxiously
as your hands sign countless 'executive orders'

though you screeched to the converted
and sold your snake oil as a 'conservative'
in truth you are a radical destroyer
of the status quo, a revolutionary

when at last you leave office,
either through death, retirement or defeat,
you will be mortal once more,
though hardly humbled

our times create the monsters
of which too many approve,
and you, a mediocre, blustering buffoon,
are only the latest male version of Miley Cyrus

[ladylinda]

Misperceptions:

your counterfeit anger
is so misplaced,
yet, like the phoney tears
you cry, you try to trick the times
into confusing your acting with passion,
while you're so cold inside, the truth is
you haven't realised
your whole body and soul
stand frozen into a living
ice statue

[ladylinda]

The dogmatist speaks:

I see only in primary colours,
no shades of grey, no colour blending

I hear only flats or sharps,
no half-tones, no mutes, in my music

I cannot be a friend:
my emotions run only to love or hate

I cannot be at peace:
either I swim in an ocean of joy or drown in a whirlpool of despair

I cannot have peripheral vision:
either I am blind or I see everything

I cannot have half-truths:
either I hear what I want or I am deaf

I am the one who judges,
perfectly pure within my certainties