A Time To Sow

once written
in longhand
on a small piece
of yellow paper
these lines
I plan on
in the moist
behind the house
in the hope
(for poets still believe in hope despite ourselves)
that come
the summer’s end
new words of
wonderful colours
and ideas fragrant
are mine to harvest
for the fall.

Untitled Notes on Writer’s Block

there is silence save birdsong
and darkness save this shaded light
there’s a blank white page before me
that waits on me to write,

there are no thoughts within me
save those I have of you
how can I them in conscience fair
with meagre words imbue.

so I hear beyond the silence
and drift into the dark
to set my pen in readiness
before I make my mark.

To Night

Still thy hand oh murderous night
hold thought a while before you slay
sheath the dagger of cold twilight
to spare this young and blameless day.

Make peace, oh darkness, with the light
for you are brothers to my soul
joined fast by an eternal birthright
that some hid physic hand extolled.

So be not Cain, bear not his mark
but calm your brother day in sleep
that his is not cause to fear your dark
instead his artlessness to keep.