Losing my Wretchedness
Amazing space, how blind and vast,
To fluke-up life like me.
I once had faith, but now at last,
I have infinity.
Losing my Wretchedness
Category: Short Pieces
Omniphonics
Omniphonics
The beauty of English is all those who seek it
With all of their Anglisized ears.
The whole world is lis’ning, for evil or good,
Our blessing and curse is to be understood.
The beauty of English is ev’ryone speaks it –
The trouble is, ev’ryone hears.
Epiphany in the Rain
Epiphany in the Rain
This cannot drown me, nor chill me, nor dampen my mien –
For I have seen something like nothing of all things I’ve seen.
Not from a far world, nor next world, nor somewhere between –
It came from within me, from ev’ry damn neuron and gene.
Gillingas
Gillingas
“First recorded as such c.698. Origin: (settlement of) Gilla’s people, from Old English -ingas ˋpeople of’.”
– How England Was Named
Eight miles west of Charing Cross
And just to south of Hanger Hill,
Lived farming folk whose Saxon Boss
Is with us yet, through his old ville –
Now while our names are doomed for loss,
Gilla’s people linger still.
Convergent Resonance
Convergent Resonance
Tumbling lines, one from another,
Falling in behind the last –
Each one linking with his brother,
Lacing up and holding fast –
So ev’ry time a rhyme should sound,
Then, potently, a rhyme shall kick,
Until the final line is found
To shut the box with sweetest click.
Linguistic Schtick
Linguistic Schtick
Synonyms, ah synonyms ! The poet’s greatest rule –
Facilitating, all-enabling, multiplicating tool.
Synonyms – repeating things – they let us say once more
The same old curds in diff’rent words – a dozen ways to score.
In Mind
In Mind
Ask him a question, he answers precise and pristine:
The greatest and smallest, and ev’rything shaded between.
Ask him a question, the height and the year and the queen –
He knows all the answers, but hasn’t a clue what they mean.
First Eight Lines of a Sonnet
First Eight Lines of a Sonnet
I sometimes feel like life is just preamble,
All As and Bs and As and Bs forever –
There’s building-up of tension for the scramble,
But no antithesis can slip the tether.
Won’t someone blow the whistle on this shamble,
And get me underway in my endeavour ?
I long to find a volta, take a gamble,
But always must await a break in weather…
Three-Line Poem
Three-Line Poem
Angels may be small, too small to glance –
And yet the real question that the clerics should advance
Is why on only pinheads do they ever choose to dance ?
Rainy-Day Responses
Rainy-Day Responses
Sooner or later, we all sing a song to the rain,
And those who have sung them before can all sing them again.
Later or sooner, we all pray a prayer to the skies,
And those who have prayed them before can all lead the replies.
Rhyming Couplets 