Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

TWO lawyers to their cause so well adhered,
A country justice quite confused appeared,
By them the facts were rendered so obscure
With which the truth remained he was not sure.
At length, completely tired, two straws he sought
Of diff'rent lengths, and to the parties brought.
These in his hand he held:--the plaintiff drew
(So fate decreed) the shortest of the two.
On this the other homeward took his way,
To boast how nicely he had gained the day.

THE bench complained: the magistrate replied
Don't blame I pray--'tis nothing new I've tried;
Courts often judge at hazard in the law,
Without deciding by the longest straw.
...

Tell me not, in doctored numbers,
Life is but a name for work!
For the labour that encumbers
Me I wish that I could shirk.

Life is phony! Life is rotten!
And the wealthy have no soul;
Why should you be picking cotton,
Why should I be mining coal?


...

Seen it all, heartless betrayal and rejection
Never felt quite this bored, overwhelmed with emotions
I am still red, never seemed to lose my bloom
My roots were plucked off but found their way back home
Who am l?

Brutal, hot summers, and cold winters came and passed
I lost it all, strength is the only thing l grasped
Why is it so cruel, why am l red, still, and not dead
I am a mess deep down but that ain't the case with my head

...

Through every nook and every cranny
The wind blew in on poor old Granny
Around her knees, into each ear
(And up nose as well, I fear)

All through the night the wind grew worse
It nearly made the vicar curse
The top had fallen off the steeple
Just missing him (and other people)

It blew on man, it blew on beast
It blew on nun, it blew on priest
It blew the wig off Auntie Fanny-
But most of all, it blew on Granny!
...

I have brought the sacrificial goat
To the heap of grass, leaves and bark

He has forgotten his last beheading
But round his neck garland-like
hangs a mark
...

Looking out the window; clouds floating in the sky
Feeling jealous of the birds; not because they can fly.
Am alone in my room; soft cushion held tight against my chest
Wishing to be free one day; can only hope for the best.

Vision getting blurry; tears dripping down my cheeks
That sandwich on my desk; months old it reeks.
Why am I like this? I question myself in woe
Knowing deep inside, I am both my biggest friend and foe.


...

I.

THE FATHER.

FATHER of Heaven, and Him, by whom
It, and us for it, and all else for us,
Thou madest, and govern'st ever, come
And re-create me, now grown ruinous:
My heart is by dejection, clay,
And by self-murder, red.
From this red earth, O Father, purge away
All vicious tinctures, that new-fashioned
I may rise up from death, before I'm dead.


II.
THE SON.

O Son of God, who, seeing two things,
Sin and Death, crept in, which were never made,
By bearing one, tried'st with what stings
The other could Thine heritage invade ;
O be Thou nail'd unto my heart,
And crucified again ;
Part not from it, though it from Thee would part,
But let it be by applying so Thy pain,
Drown'd in Thy blood, and in Thy passion slain.


III.

...

Already six years past your age!
The steps in Rome,
the house near Hampstead Heath,
& all your fears
that you might cease to be
before your pen had glean'd. . . .

My dear dead friend,
you were the first to teach me
how the dust could sing.

...

I remember the way I sat on that bed.
Those words combined my head
You said it wasn't me
You said there was no other girl
But I just almost wanted to hurl
The feet i bruised from falling so hard
You‘ve forever bruised my heart
The last words you said to me play like a melody

Maybe I'm overreacting, but how could I feel it then?

...