Songs of the Bard

Solemnly the bard calmly sings though the days
Punctuated by nights filled with the light of stars
With pale moon that makes lovers swoon so soon,
And the tune is new with each rising of the sun,
So that the poet has just begun a fresh new song
Sung long as the minutes grow into hours of light,
Slow and bright, taking flight from earth to sight
Of heaven, where time is known but not shown,
And eternity sweeps over his soul filling the hole
In everlasting joy and welcome peace as he plays
His part, bringing art to the beauty of his duty
Happily welling up to an overflowing blessing
In the heart of a bard, who counts hard moments
As joyful messages of certain growth and vision
Beyond the present into an unknown tomorrow
Laden with hope and promise of new beginnings
Never ceasing but increasing in love from above
. . .
Solemnly the bard calmly sings though the days
Punctuated by nights filled with the light of stars
With pale moon that makes lovers swoon so soon

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How Does the Poet Explain?

How does the poet adequately explain his poetry
Without much pain, at the risk of sounding insane?
If the poet could explain her melodic words
Flowing serenely in rhyme and fine rhythm,
Then she may as well have written in prose
Rather than posing as a poet, you know it?
Poetry is an esoteric world of its own
Where the seeds of thought are sown
To be shown in an exquisite garden
Of variegation of creative creation,
Not in straight farm-like rows to plow,
So how, O how, does the poet now explain . . .
Poetry is potently mysterious
While making mystical sense
To the avid, passionate lover of metrical verse,
And it’s nothing to rehearse,
But to engage and fascinate!
It is to attract and grip and rivet the very heart,
But play no part in essays and academic articles!
Indeed, how does the poet amply explain his poetry
Without much pain, at the risk of sounding insane?
No! Vain is the task of trying and without any gain!


Note: First published in early November 2016, now republished due to some renewed interest as well as for the enjoyment (and edification?) of new reader-followers.

An Unexpected Departure

Many days washed away during an unexpected stay
In a place secluded from the pace of ordinary ways
For the repair of mind to find fresh peace and solace
And a newer lease on life and serenity unfurled
In this world of painful woes and watery wishes
And now to see what may yet be in store for me
With hope … always anticipation in an emancipation
From baseless fear with God so near and angels dear
Yes, with this I have made the return
With hope that burns right brightly!
After days washed away during an unexpected stay

Up From the Deep Inside of Me

There is something deep inside of me that I have not even seen;
It has been held in spiritual keep all of these years, pure, clean;
Numinous fire burning through prior ages and pages of history,
It is not of me, from me or by me but it is quickly becoming me;
Spirit untamed and wild, nothing mild about her, yet like a child;
And the lowly gods whirl their heads trying to keep her in bed,
But in vain and it drives them insane; they cannot stop this train
And my clouds are full of rain ready to shower upon this world
Into which I’ve been hurled on purpose for a show in this circus;
Yet my tongue remains wordless but with earnest I try to release
What is roiling and boiling inside me rather than to bide my time
Because the clock chimes daybreak and it’s ready to break forth,
This something deep inside of me that even I have not yet seen


Note: Originally published in January of this year, now republished due to some renewed interest as well as for the reading pleasure of new blog followers. Blessings to one and all! (And, by the way, the above is as true today as when it was written two months ago.)

An igNoble Sonnet

Hast thou bequeathed thy love to another?
Perchance given thy heart to my brother?
And wouldst thou be so cruel as to leave me
Forsaken of all love as if dead to thee?
Oh, how high and haughty thou hast become
To be so naughty to leave me thus lonesome!
May the gods smile upon this wretched soul,
And Panacea apply her balm to fill this hole
Thou hast left in mine own heart torn apart!
Ah! The game of romance is such deadly art,
And I not an artist be, so thou must see
What great extent is thine own cruelty;
Yet shall ye turn away thine eye from me
For the sake of playing harlot so shamelessly?


Note: This is my own paltry attempt at Shakespearean sonnet, being 14 lines with 10 syllables per most lines… Try it at least once, right?

Tidal Wave of Creativity

It’s like a tidal wave ready to hit the shore,
More than this, like some score to be settled
In my soul with a hole in my heart to be filled;
I’m grilled by thoughts running wild, words filed
Away for me to summon forth, phrases drum on
In my psyche, twirling and swirling frantically
Searching for a way out to have their pen-say;
But do I know how to string them together in
Some sensible order, to bring them together in
Sweet flowing stream from overflowing dream?
So I write to lessen the bite of insane pain
Felt in the deepest part of my poetic heart.


Note: Previously published in February 2016, now being republished on its anniversary for the enjoyment of new reader-followers. Blessings to one and all!