Michael Egan Poems

They say the female bumblebee
In order to select a mate
Flies higher than the humble he,
Or average male, will contemplate
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And shall I then your Robert be
And you Elizabeth?
Our poems shall our children be
Beyond the pinch of death.
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I sought professional help, you see,
Beyond the reach of poetry
A Lonely Hearts advisory
I thought might help both you and me
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The Water God alone doth sit
His head upon his other hand,
Expression dull, his eyes unlit
Words idly tracing in the sand.
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If you felt a major tremor
In the early quiet dawn
Woke and sought its cause around you
Though invisible and gone
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Water God to Naiad: Now would be good
Naiad to Water God: Really? We should?
He saith: How I've waited and wanted for thee
Caught glimpses in fragments of old poetry
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Can good accomplice evil, help assist it on its way?
The path to hell is paved with good intentions, so they say,
Yet when I think of real people struggling to survive
The selfish taking for themselves while others share and give,
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Midnight, they say, is the witching hour
When ghosts and goblins walk abroad
But my hour with my witch, my Naiad,
Later is, an hour or two before it dawns
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I fear with you my poetry has gone
For you and you alone filled up my line
A singer cannot sing without a song
And what's an empty carafe without wine?
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