When I was a windy boy and a bit
And the black spit of the chapel fold,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of women),
I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood,
The rude owl cried like a tell-tale tit,
I skipped in a blush as the big girls rolled
Nine-pin down on donkey's common,
And on seesaw sunday nights I wooed
Whoever I would with my wicked eyes,
The whole of the moon I could love and leave
......
They paddle with staccato feet
In powder-pools of sunlight,
Small blue busybodies
Strutting like fat gentlemen
With hands clasped
Under their swallowtail coats;
And, as they stump about,
Their heads like tiny hammers
Tap at imaginary nails
In non-existent walls.
......
Old Yew, which graspest at the stones
That name the under-lying dead,
Thy fibres net the dreamless head,
Thy roots are wrapt about the bones.
The seasons bring the flower again,
And bring the firstling to the flock;
And in the dusk of thee, the clock
Beats out the little lives of men.
O not for thee the glow, the bloom,
Who changest not in any gale,
......
Open the window, and let the air
Freshly blow upon face and hair,
And fill the room, as it fills the night,
With the breath of the rain's sweet might.
Hark! the burthen, swift and prone!
And how the odorous limes are blown!
Stormy Love's abroad, and keeps
Hopeful coil for gentle sleeps.
Not a blink shall burn to-night
......
Old elm that murmured in our chimney top
The sweetest anthem autumn ever made
And into mellow whispering calms would drop
When showers fell on thy many coloured shade
And when dark tempests mimic thunder made -
While darkness came as it would strangle light
With the black tempest of a winter night
That rocked thee like a cradle in thy root -
How did I love to hear the winds upbraid
Thy strength without - while all within was mute.
......
Black onyx night, of the pearlescent moon,
diamond dew kissed, musk rose red.
Deep purple and white passion!
Phantoms dance in lilac dreams;
around the corner of blooms,
with memories of sunshine.
Comparing lovely costumes,
in fields, beds and flowerpots,
just steps away from moonlight.
A polka dot rainbow flared.
......
warmth floods over me
when blue flowers are climbing
sage red rose timing
sitting on the stairs
in sweet caress of warm winds
gold noon never ends
sitting among scents
under lemon chiffon clouds
......
When does all the reinvention, reincarnation, praying, and stumbling end?
Where does the transformation stop and the life after it begin?
To transfigure is to change, to become more beautiful and spiritual
And yet, each one of my successive reinventions
Feels more like sewing sinews to a fractured bone
Than weeks in which I praise God and embrace the transformation.
I am tired of reinventing myself.
It has been five years since I began to change–
......
evergreen evening
silver stars sparkle softly
once gold fades away
lily of stardust
in magic of summer night
glows in pink and white
stardust lily scent
roams upon a happy breeze
......
butterfly bush blooms
such pink and purple colors
green days like late summer
lavender sunshine
in floral scents wandering
cream clouds pondering
striking hummingbird
in deep purple and rubies
......