That Was The Week That Was

This week has had so many things go on
I cannot properly recall them all;
Before they have begun they are all gone,
And ere they rise in me they seem to fall.
I can't even express it properly
The emphases won't fall where I would wish
And all I do is useless. Don't you see
Me look for words and my mind say "Go Fish"?
I am too full of things to say to find
A single one to actually say
And in the recessed corners of my mind
I hear "you cannot even though you may."
So do not think because I do not speak
I have not thought of anything this week.

Relative Temperature

The weather is unseasonably cold,
So that the flowers brave enough to grow
Receive a punishment for being bold
And others, timider and so more slow,
Do not yet dare, although the month is May
And April's cruelty is long since past,
To peep above the ground, and by this they
Are saved. The cold seems settled in to last,
And those of us who dared, as flowers do,
To show our unprotected selves have found
In that a choice unfortunate to rue
And wish like them we could hide underground.
It was just like this when we met and walked
Yet I felt only heat when we two talked.

Glaciation

Our love is glacial, and slowly expands
In this new ice age to cover the lands
Which former thoughts had occupied. It sweeps
Down mountainsides with elegance to seize
The lowlands, and its ice-locked matrices
Hold yet uncounted gems within the deeps.
Our lives are shaped by what this love scoops out
Changing the landscape even as it grows,
And in its lovely, twisted, branching floes
I lose all sense of stress, despair, or doubt.
Fear not; though this ice age may wane away,
The glacier will remain with us to stay
For there are mountaintops on which it's based
Which will remain, though lowlands be erased.

Hermitage

Even when the world is going mad
And I would pull myself inside my shell
To hide from everything that's hard or bad
I want to pull you in with me as well.
When I imagine every human touch
Bears with it danger of trauma and pain,
I want to hold you close, then, just as much
As when I feel the panic in me wane.
Each time I wonder if it's worth the trouble
To stay in contact with the world outside
I know I still want you inside my bubble;
If it means you aren't with me, I won't hide.
I cannot deal with people, yet I hate
The thought that you and I might separate.

Remnants

I have no mind for what I am to do.
I lack the sense that ought to make me spend
My limited attention on those few
Points necessary to my purposed end
For that dull purpose is no goal for me;
It is a remnant of too long ago,
An undigested fragment that can be
Easily put by, and yet I know
In some way I should keep it. And yet why?
Why not abandon all to seek new ways,
Putting everything that's prior by,
Wearing new fashions fit for newer days?
Because the past is where the present feeds
And so past goals are part of present needs.

'Tis With Cares

Had I the hours and the time for this
I might care more; right now, my mind is done,
And I care very little what I miss.
Of course there are some things I have begun
Which I'd prefer to finish, but today
I will not do so. No, today I sit
And watch the world pass by while I must stay
Doing this work as if I wanted it.
I am not empty, no, I am filled up
With vacuous yet space-demanding cares;
And every time I empty out my cup
The spout of problems fills me unawares.
So do not think my present disregard
Is permanent; but times right now are hard.

Fools, Said I, You Do Not Know

I want to make you happy - oh, so much -
But never really know if I succeed.
Of course, you tell me that I do, and such
Good reinforcement is just what I need,
But in a deeper, calmer sense, I know,
I cannot hear the best part of your joy;
Since bliss for you in silence seems to grow
And even whispers serve but to annoy.
So I will be kept out when I do best,
Let in when that has overflowed and gone;
I can't be sad, though, when I feel the zest
With which you come and stay - and linger on.
I know I cannot know, but I don't care
So long as you still want to have me there.

Jointure

I do not doubt your constancy or faith
Nor think you like me less than you have done;
I simply think sometimes you are a wraith
Half-present in the world beneath the sun,
Wrapped up in other times, in other places
And I am worried that they take you far
From me. I know you see far other faces
In your mind's eye, and sometimes that you are
With them in spirit, which can trouble me
For I am with you wholly when with you.
I do not seek to blame you or to be
Unfair about it, but admit you do
Sometimes seem vacant. Let me know your trouble
Which being shared will become half, not double.

Vetoed

I sometimes fail to see just what's the point
Of us not doing what we want to do
Because somebody's nose is out of joint;
Shouldn't that become their problem too?
And since it doesn't hurt them anyway,
It's just a prejudice or two of theirs,
I don't know why I really have to say
That I believe that when somebody cares
About something that doesn't affect them
You ought to listen first to those it does
And if the latter choose not to condemn,
You should leave it exactly as it was.
What we do with each other is our own
And chosen by no one but us alone.

Partwise

So many things to do, so little that
I care about. I could be ready, now,
To put it all away, if it were pat
And tidy, but it's not, and won't allow
Such simple, blithe dismissal. If it could,
I would. But no, I must go on and on
Half-caring at the best about the good
And not at all about the bad. What's gone
Is not the world around me, but within;
I see a smaller universe, which I
Prefer. It's lighter, easier to spin
About its axis. No, that bit's a lie.
I just have help with it, which matters too;
That makes things so much easier to do.