Tock

I cannot make my mind run as I would;
I cannot make it sleep by my command
Nor can I order it to think it good
To have my love live in a distant land.
In vain I tell it of the wondrous things
I shall achieve in time spent far away;
By day, to such my self-cognition clings
But by the sky and clock it is not day.
In such a time as this, I cannot force
My mind from where it would all day remain
Did I not channel it a safer course
To keep it, half the time, a working brain.
But as night falls, it turns again to her
And to her side, by which I wish I were.

Wrong City

At every corner that I turn, a part
Of me imagines that you will be there;
While that sly smile that imbues my heart
With every kind of love prompts me to stare
And have you shake your head, impatiently
Asking why that look is on my face
So I can answer most untruthfully
It doesn't matter, and go on apace
Still thrilling with the image of your smile
Treasured in my eyelids' afterglow
Pretending for a momentary while
I can ignore its captivating slow
Fade out of view. But every time I turn
You are not there, and I must simply yearn.

Fading Image

I do not want to hold you in my mind
Just as you were when first we came to meet
For I prefer to know the you I find
By living with you - never yet complete,
Never made final, never done or set,
Forever changing as I change with you.
The people that we were when we first met
Are gone, and the time they lived is through;
Instead I want to see you as you are
And love the person you have come to be;
Not like the beam flung from a distant star
That can shed only its past light on me
But like the flicker of an inner fire
That burns with present love, trust, and desire.

Midnight

There's something odd about an empty room
That's small enough to be a single one
Yet feels it isn't destined for that doom;
That seems as though, before its time is done,
It should be filled by happiness for two
But still is not. It is a limbo place
That stands between what yet is left to do
And has come. The human mind can trace
The future echoes of a time unmet
Which seem to glisten between darkened walls
After the solitary sun has set
And yet before the comfortable night falls
Shining companionship from endless stars
Upon the future and this room of ours.

Est

I find I can't dispute I've lost some skill
In speaking of my heart with eloquence;
It isn't that I'm bad at making sense
But rather that, attempt it how I will,
No matter what I say, it must seem ill
Because it cannot equal the immense
Pleasure it in theory represents
And since there's always pleasure left to fill
However much I pour and pour in words
In thundering great coalescing herds,
I feel inadequate; my utmost best
Can never in its greatest moment cope
With all my love, nor challenge it in scope.
My words are always worse than what's expressed.

London City

The days here are exciting, but the nights

Are strange - and by the nights I mean the hours

When London shuts itself to foreign sights

From eight o'clock or so - when all the flowers

Are closed against the not yet quite here dark.

Those times are when it would be best to stroll

An almost closed and yet wide open park

And sit with you upon a shady knoll

Watching the clouds go by and people stream

Into the Tube and back into their homes

Skimmed out of London City like the cream

Off milk, as planes to aerodromes

Dive sparkling down. It's strange to watch alone;

As if my sense of sight were overgrown.

Nightscape

All cities twinkle like each other, but
Go down into the streets and they will seem
As different as a famine and a glut:
Some cities glisten like a dewlit dream
At every level; some expose a seam
Dank and festering beneath the skin;
Some float upon their worser parts like cream;
Some dive into the steamy depths of sin;
And some, unlike their cousins, welcome in
The poor, the rich, the every kind of man,
Combine what ought to make a dreadful din
And make a melody worthy of Pan.
In these the twinkle truly glistens in the dark
Both natural: the black fuel and the spark.

Bread

Preach thou thy word, and I will not convert
And yet respect each syllable you say
Nor try to make thee other than thou wert
Nor from the listening attempt to stray.
The certainty that sends thee on thy way
And brings thee comfort in the days ahead
I would not for the wide world take away
Though I in that direction am not led.
And when, in our near future, I thee wed,
Be sure I will not follow down that road
Yet neither shall I preach to thee instead
Or try to tempt thee from thy heartfelt code.
Rather, as I do now, I shall prize
Thy firm belief, because in thee it lies.

A Building

There always could be somewhere else, I guess;
Another place, or even this post-change
But still I fear you never could arrange
To make me feel at home there. You could bless
Another house, and import my whole mess,
Taking careful care to disarrange
Each piece of paper; still it would estrange
Me from myself despite your artfulness
For in this place I have accumulated
Such memories, and such a sense of home
That nothing can replace them 'til I build
Brick by mental brick another, weighted
With inner meaning, like a palindrome
Mirroring the sense with which it's filled.

Positivity

Do not imagine anything but good
For in imagination only lies
The possibility of might and would
Which falsely claims to deeply sympathize
And whispers fondly 'you must realize
You cannot do it, and your hopes are vain;
You and I both know this; we are wise;
We know you, and we know the dismal strain
You put upon yourself; let your hopes wane,
Not hoping is the safest, surest way
To minimize future potential pain;
Doubt like us; it's hopeless anyway."
But doubt is self-fulfilling. Be secure:
You're better than your doubts whispered you were.