Pause for Poetry.

Some poems, written in another time.

Thou


If cemeteries could give up their secrets

    Do you suppose the tombs would talk?

If gravestones presented all their findings

    Would we who are yet unburied, walk;

Down, towards the plain of understanding

        Beyond all knowledge, thought and masquerading.



To a place past the briars

    And towards a land whose liars

Absent themselves beneath the canopy--

Would we, yet groundlings,
            Towards the sky to see?



And would that place bring heat and sun

    Or burn us as to yet undone?


Ahh it seems too cruel a state

That those now sleeping prove quite more awake

Than those whose lungs still yet must take;

                    Breath.


Really it is but the light we seek.

That anchors us in prefect meek
                ness as before the stone.

                            Calling out to those in blessed home.


Perhaps therefore the statement  must be:

“Not unto us but instead,

            To thee. “


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Chronos

“I am different, don't you see?”

“You cannot be but be.”

And so the brass swings back and forth

for all eternity!

Pairs of hands move silently-

across the face: so it goes.

And what is dawn but a risen light,

to view what's sunk below.

What shall the chimes and switches say

when called upon the hour?

“That you woke and slept then woke again,

giving time its charnel power.”

Yet O thou clock thou seest it dimly

but in the only way thine can.

Today will say that I have life

and with history I'll stand!

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Friends

To whom do I owe this most esteemed pleasure?

That my hope has been contained to such limited measure

That my dreams have been robbed and made to sour

That my promise seems burnt upon the shifts and the hours.

“There, there o troubled perhaps its not so bad; you may find life in the life since had.

Why hope is but a fancy

And those dreams you speak a haze

And perhaps promise is nothing more than an impossible maze.”

“Assuredly answers won’t come with the introduction of questions

But bring their solutions in cascading perfections.”

Well I’ll tell you my friend I think I’m starting to see

That the one who knows the least

Is me.