Play it again

  There is a time There is a time for campaigning Then gracefully restraining  There is a time for noisy speeches Then silently remaining  In the quiet pews  Of cloistered chapels off the nave  Where votive candles flicker In witness to the brave Who toiled and wept and prayed Many hours across the days Now lost and long forgotten But held dear in faithful hearts Unwilling to tire or yield To the passing of the years The torch burns bright as ever In souls purified by fire That never dies with embers Snoozing til the dawn arrives  To mark another day of hope And tender love and rapture. 

  Do as I say Do as I say, not as I do Surely the truth of every sermon The moral of every preacher To preach is human But to practice divine Impossible and inaccessible.  The ancient priest has preached To unwilling folk in restless pews Bad news unwelcome then as now.  We only welcome welcome news How weary now of worried words No point addressing empty churches.    Lead us through the easy gate Forget the narrow door  Forgo the troubled ocean for the sheltered shore. 

  Ambiguity Ambiguity, his middle name Just a poet all the same Unwilling still to draw a line Happy to be undefined.  The meaning is not his but yours Whatever words suggest You can never pin him down  As he moves from town to town.  He’s not ashamed to change his tone His poems vary down the years On he saunters forward only Leaving lovers in the margins.  This is what high Art demands Focus firmly on the prize Sacrifice all abandon sundry For he is too a slave to history.  His words provoke but also soothe The jaded spirit, the hungry soul Light sometimes he knows not how The hidden sparks in grey existence.  Lay him down beneath the headstone Silent witness for all future ages If they succeed the widespread dangers Finding strength to carry on. 

  The West Pier Sitting in the autumn sun Halfway down the rustic pier Not too far and not too near The tinkling cleats I can hear.  Grasping chances just like this When winter comes we’ll surely miss The warmth of sun on harbor wall Yachts lie mooring, standing tall.  Harbour guard rolls by in comfy car With comfy job, no baddies here, Stoic runners bashing gravel  Ruining joints and autumn peace  Man in boat with perfect balance Standing proudly at the stern Makes his way with practiced ease Beyond a junk that barely floats.  Lucky we among the millions  Peace within and peace without Barely conscious of our blessings We’ll harvest memories to be sure.  Noisy seagulls make their point Distant traffic thrums on streets The commuter train screeches by The working craft slides gently past.    Junior sailors venture forth Staying close for prudence sake Sails a flutter in the foreground Youthful laughter across the pond.  This familia...

  They’re all dead now They’re all dead now  The cowboys of my youth The stars of stage and screen Now dropping every month.  Every crowd scene reveals The tragic truth in very photo Even children now departed Witness to a wistful world.  Meanwhile the sun spins on Oblivious, carefree just like we Sixty years ago, careless of time Beads now slipping off a broken rosary.  Our time is past, time for others To strut the stage, to wander past Without a second glance Blind to us who rode our chance.  We have become what we once ignored The slow, the stumbling wounded The unused extras, the silent voices Fresh youth must have its day.  Our cherished heroes now long dead We now embrace our parents wisdom Their noble courage and stoicism Like them we depart the stage left. 

  Years after Years after the atomic war We thought we were the only ones Living on world’s edge In caves beneath the cliffs.  Our little group had somehow Missed the blast and aftermath The birds our only neighbours now And the fish that swim the seas  Our only food for three years now  With no way of finding out How many others ducked and dived If only we the lucky had survived It seemed to us bewildered human beings Who by chance were still alive  Reduced to fish and bird eggs Memories of a thousand years ago. Gone the belching factories of before Gone the cars and trains and planes The busy streets, the concert halls, The music and art and poetry. No way back to our lives before The days turned black for months on end Until the stillness had overcome And silence ruled o’er one and all.  And then behold a boat appeared It saw our fire upon the shore Bearing news we were not alone Hundreds in Scotland and even more. They brought us food upon the boat And ...