Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

Cars and bustle, rush and hustle,
trolley dashing tempers clashing
Christmas cheer to much beer
mistletoe, plastic snow
christmas holly 'lets be jolly'
christmas pud, do you think we should?
Turkey, stuffing, granny puffing,
fairy lights, men in tights
pantomimes, palour games
christmas cake, belly ache
as yet another piece you take!
Boxing day, in-laws stay!
Endless repeats on the telly, and again from your belly!
No more hassle...the odd brussel!
christmas farce....
A pain in the arse!
...

Wild eyes—and faces ashen grey
That strain through lofty prison bars
To see the everlasting stars,
Then turn—to slumber as we may:

Even as we are, so are they,
And here is peace for all who know
The stars still follow where we go,
When heaven and earth have passed away.


...

I am a candle burning steady
though the wax melts unevenly
longing for a hand that steadies the flame
without being asked

My roots run deep
yet the soil shifts beneath me
and I wonder if the wind knows I lean
without ever bending


...

Petulant priests, greedy
centurions, and one million
incensed gestures stand
between your love and me.

Your agape sacrifice
is reduced to colored glass,
vapid penance, and the
tedium of ritual.

Your footprints yet
mark the crest of
billowing seas but
your joy
fades upon the tablets
of ordained prophets.

Visit us again, Savior.
Your children, burdened with
disbelief, blinded by a patina
of wisdom,
carom down this vale of
fear. We cry for you
although we have lost
your name.
...

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

...

It started with wonder, a whisper, a spark,
Steps unsure, yet moving through shadow and dark.
Each moment a lesson, each trial a bend,
A path full of questions that led to the end.

Hurrah, that is the sound of jubilation,
The journey is almost over,
In my sight I can see the finish line.
Maybe I am in Finish Border —
The end is near.
...

The bells! — ah, the bells!
The little silver bells!
How fairy-like a melody there floats
From their throats. —
From their merry little throats —
From the silver, tinkling throats
Of the bells, bells, bells —
Of the bells!

The bells! — ah, the bells!
The heavy iron bells!
How horrible a monody there floats
From their throats —
From their deep-toned throats —
From their melancholy throats!
How I shudder at the notes
Of the bells, bells, bells —
Of the bells!
...

In the pond in the park
all things are doubled:
Long buildings hang and
wriggle gently. Chimneys
are bent legs bouncing
on clouds below. A flag
wags like a fishhook
down there in the sky.

The arched stone bridge

...

I know a thief
An expert in his field, a chief
All day his plan is intense
At night he strikes in all pretence

All that is important he comes to take
Subtle is his craft, as slippery as a snake
Like a shadow, he has ever been around
From dawn to dusk all year round


...