Monday, March 30, 2020

Two New Poem Drafts


All failing things have an aim and an end.
To stray is not to find, sin is a lack,
a foe is a lapse of what makes a friend,
to lose presupposes a path to track.
But not merely in skill are failures found;
in nature too may things err from their way--
tending by impediment may be bound,
defects arise, monsters see light of day.
The doctor fails because he aims to cure,
the literate because he aims to read;
life too in success is not always pure.
Thus nature and skill are alike in deed
and aim for an end, for which they endure,
a target to which their success would lead.

Danse Macabre

Around and around the dancers will go,
their bones all a-rattle with music and song
as cremation-ashes are falling like snow.

We are always already in crisis and know
that soon it will come; it will not be long;
around and around the dancers will go.

Our ways overseen by the raven and crow,
we all come together as neighbors in throng
as cremation-ashes are falling like snow.

The smiles are all rigid with the burden of woe
on the guiltless as on those who do wrong;
around and around the dancers will go.

No rain washes heaven save tears that yet flow;
the clouds are all gray, the death-chill is strong,
as cremation ashes are falling like snow.

Each follows each and all of us go,
here pope, worker, king, and child dance along;
around and around the dancers will go
as cremation-ashes are falling like snow.

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