Footed

I really hate the way time ticks along
Without a care, as if it didn't matter.
I wish that I could stop it - it feels wrong
To knuckle to its constant pitter-patter
And let it own me. Why should every day
Follow the old and make it all anew?
Why must we moult our skin and throw away
The day in which we did what we must do
Again tomorrow? Most of all, oh why
Must we pass on from what and where we were,
Leaving behind the paradise gone by
For what will come? I would so much prefer
To find a niche beyond time's hand and wait
Forever in that blissful, happy state.

Leaving

I am sad because I'm leaving. Still
I know it's better than to not be here
At all. If someone had possessed my will
And made it so I had kept fully clear
Of such a sadness, that would have required
My never coming here at all, and that
Is worse than sadness. All that I desired
Required coming here, and that is pat;
Leaving is just a side-effect, which takes
Some of the joy away, but still somehow
Leaves me still full of it. The joy that makes
Itself still whole despite the absence now
Is truest joy - and that is what is mine.
I will be happy, though I will still pine.

Nightingale

My head is heavy but my heart is light
For as I head into the end of day
And moonlight dwindles out of dusky grey
Into the true deep cobalt of the night,
As I keep feeling while I lose my sight,
And hear the unseen footsteps of the fey
Dark creatures that, almost unnoticed, stray
Into our world before we shutter quite,
I know she will be with me, I with her,
No matter where our bodies may remain;
And should I fail to sleep, and turn, and stir
With writhing from my dark-oppressed hot brain
I know she will be there to comfort me
As I would be as much for her, should she.

Cooling

The heat recedes, and life begins again

Out of the scorching pain the sun had brought.

The sun, life-giving, was destructive then,

But now smiles down. Of course it's very hot,

But not as much as when the day was dead.

Some warmth is needed - we live on the edge

Between a boil and a freeze. It's said

We teeter ever closer on the ledge

To falling over - but we have not yet,

And so I joy to see the heat recede

Again into this state where we are set

Just in our niche. Now let us feed

Upon the cool hot air as best we can

Before the heat returns us to the ban.

Women

Time and tide wait for no man.
Women, however, they wait for.
They may not realize they can,
But women often can do more.
The world will alter at their whim,
The skies obey their very word,
A nod from her (but not from him)
Will charm a predatory bird,
Raise a tempest, or dispel
A coming storm that threatens rain;
Their thoughts the very seas can quell,
Or bring in healing after pain.
Or maybe I just think it's true
Because of what I'd do for you.

Lightnings

The storm above me cannot touch me now
For I have found an anchor far below
The noisy surface of the world. 'Twill cow
The many, make them quake and grow
Fearful of the world they face outside,
But I am calm and happy in my heart,
Stationary, watching them all ride
The giddy whirl, but never taking part
In how they worry. I am safe and sure,
For I have love, and love is everything.
It can make fast the mind, it can secure
The heart. Mankind may be a giddy thing,
But this is my conclusion: I will turn
Only for her, and only then I burn.

Glimpse

Her smile is a strange and wondrous thing.

It makes my heart beat rhythmically and strong,

My nerves all tingle and my sinews sing

Like the reverberations of a gong

After the note is struck. It makes me yearn

And melt at once. I cannot then resist 

The pull of her, and so I always turn

Towards her, and pull her to me to be kissed.

When she is sad or concentrating, I

Am always looking for a way to make

Her smile again, and so I'm apt to try

A million ways, 'til one of them will take

And bring me back into that blissful state

And I can watch her sit and radiate.

Queasy

Denial isn't healthy, but it's easy:

The easiest, indeed, of all the ways

To deal with things that make you kind of queasy, 

And muddle on in an unreasoned haze.

But being easy doesn't make it right;

It's safer to be fully self-aware.

For in your heart of hearts your second sight

Will tell you what, perhaps, you do not dare

Admit self-consciously - what you deny

Is still out there, still looming, still to come.

And if you choose to give yourself the lie,

It may be easy, but it sure is dumb.

So I'll admit I'm leaving, and be sad

Rather than pretend - and then go mad.

Thoughts

Sometimes I wish that I could just stop thinking.
Some people do that, or I hear they do,
By meditation, brainlessness, or drinking,
Rest and relaxation, or the new
Video game system that they bought.
I cannot do it. Even when it seems
That I should be, at long last, without thought,
Quiet and at peace, somehow daydreams
Sneak in, and turn my brain from empty waste
Into a dreamland, full of shapes and sounds
And echoes of my day, that have the taste
Of thought. My mind appears to have no bounds
Except for this: it will continue on
Thinking no matter where my thoughts have gone.

Relatives

I find it very likely that my life
Will be a good one - it has been so far.
It lacks the greater part of woe and strife,
And all the perils that so often mar
Otherwise fruitful lives. I find it so,
And yet I still complain and natter on
About the problems that I've come to know
No matter how minute. I used to yawn
And say that's how a life will always be:
Compared on its own terms, not absolute,
And therefore troubled when the boundary
Of what is usual is crossed...but screw't.
I'd rather keep my mouth more closed hereafter
And think of present joy and future laughter.