If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream- -and not make dreams your master;
......
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.
With the shade around her waist
she dreams on her balcony,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
Green, how I want you green.
Under the gypsy moon,
......
You love us when we're heroes, home on leave,
Or wounded in a mentionable place.
You worship decorations; you believe
That chivalry redeems the war's disgrace.
You make us shells. You listen with delight,
By tales of dirt and danger fondly thrilled.
You crown our distant ardours while we fight,
And mourn our laurelled memories when we're killed.
You can't believe that British troops 'retire'
When hell's last horror breaks them, and they run,
......
It's easy to fight when everything's right,
And you're mad with the thrill and the glory;
It's easy to cheer when victory's near,
And wallow in fields that are gory.
It's a different song when everything's wrong,
When you're feeling infernally mortal;
When it's ten against one, and hope there is none,
Buck up, little soldier, and chortle:
Carry on! Carry on!
......
Don't fill up on bread
I say absent-mindedly
The servings here are huge
My son, whose hair may be
receding a bit, says
Did you really just
say that to me?
What he doesn't know
......
My son, John, was an engaging fellow, who was barely ten years old;
And liked frogs, marbles and playing ball, in luscious, noontime gold.
My son, John, was rather a dreamer, like the lazy cloud, sky features.
My son, John, was a leader, like a plum sky moon, flying by meteors.
John was our youngest child, very loved by his sisters, father and me;
Like the richest time of day, when cobalt sea, and mirrored sky agree.
John loved hot, stuffed dumplings, oftentimes sold by street vendors;
......
I, thy foster-child, O Nature
Swear! I tell to thee
Thy pretty mystery sucks my tear
And what happened to be
Neither I love nor hate
But 'twas a history to portray
Again and again and again!
By my desirous flame;
Not claim, nor blame!
......
I didn't realize I am getting old
Dusk and maybe dim like an incandescent lamp that runs out of electricity
I am not realizing this hair is now gray
Gray hair is similar to the petals of water guava that fall out sucked honey by
bees and even by the gentle wind in the dry season
I don't do much to prove that I'm a passionate person
A desire that sometimes I find it difficult to contain it
There are not many things I have done to prove that even though you are far
away, you are very close to my heart
......
Our lives were once flocked together
with no one to separate us.
But as my wings were slowly shaded
by green of color,
it enraged your beating core
and turned your feathers black,
dark like the shadows that watches over us.
However, you were not there to watch,
but to kill like every mother bird do for their chicks.
The only difference was you did it to me, your child.
......
You begged me not to confess, to lie about my quiddity,
for it pierces through your skin to hear my certitude and witness my color.
So, I listened and deceived you, as well as myself.
I did it for as long as air merged out of my body.
Still and all, the time arrived where I exhausted my soul.
You noticed but stayed blind.
That's the extent of the hatred you garnered to the man I embellished.
So I apologize, for I am what you loathe, father.