A Year of Poems – Day 291

I knew a man who could not hear
The music of the spheres
He could not hear the march of Mars
Or the trill of Lunar strings.

I knew a girl who laughed at stars
She preferred to talk of cars
See they both are powered by gasoline
But only one could fuel her dreams.

I do not blame the tone deaf
For failing to dream in clefs
If we want to dream of heaven
Then we cannot teach ourselves

A Year of Poems – Day 99

This England!” Yes, but Oh this very world,
Which spins out time around the turning sun!
This time flowing through us yet rationed out
in thimbles, drop by drop, but every drop
sweeter and stronger than a cask of oak
aged wine, which floods our senses till our soul
is drunk with the world – its oceans, desert
cliffs cut out by water’s hands, jungles grown
thick with every sort of creeping rainbow,
nations rich with bridges, books, and boats
which sail down the river to the delta
and from there to the sea of twinkling stars,
of which there is but one blue speck spun out
by the great whirligig of time. A gem
set in the golden crown of heaven;
The sapphire earth set in the sea of time –
this Eden cracked and cracking still. Still on
through darkening night this gem shines on
and flowing free from the cracks of sapphire
is time, aged to sweet sorrow in this cracked cask.

A Year of Poems – Day 84

A point of light is all we have,
flashing forth like a roll of foil
shook out by a toddler, who
in the twinkling of an eye,
grows old as the foil grows dim
with all the dazzle of a star,
which in a second spends its heat
to spin a diamond from molten hydrogen,
and then shall shine forth no more;
but even then, years later,
a point of light is all we have,
one in a thousand thousands
spinning soap into lace threads
until the wind blows the suds
into floating star banks far away.

A Year of Poems – Day 73

If I escape the surly bonds of earth
to soar, to fly, to brush at heaven’s hair
to gaze in unreflecting quiet joy
into the starry vastness of her eyes
If I leaving all earth’s wooded problems –
the tangled web of thorns and knotted weeds,
the seas of water rolling overhead,
the stone walls which divide as they protect –
ascend to see the colors of the spheres,
to dance to the harmonics of the stars,
and live in perfect stillness as I dance
If I could take a rocket to the void
to get to truth by getting far away
then all my perfect truth would have no sway
and when I gained an audience with her eyes,
I would have no choice but to drop my gaze.