Saturday, June 20, 2020

Three Poem Re-Drafts

The Well

Amid the stones stands an ancient well;
perhaps the druids chanted its rites,
or some fair nymph gave it sacred gifts.

Through long years the endless caravans
cross the seas, cross barren lands,
through forests deep and wild wastes,
to seek the well, its darkened depth,
to cast their kingdoms in.

You too one day will seek that well,
with all your heart's unturning hope;
you too will treasures cast inside,
into the well most dearly sought,
and from your heart of hearts will cry,
"Unwishing well, undo my wish!"


A tree without roots is overturned by the wind,
unable to battle the storms that descend;
and how, my friend, how can you hold your head high
when your past is now nothing but shadows that die?

The building is lost when the ground gives away;
the crumbled-down base will the rest then betray.
And how, my friend, how can you hold your head high,
when nothing remains but the tears that you cry?

When the grain is not stored, the seed will be lost,
no spring will be sown, with harvest its cost;
and how, my friend, how can you hold your head high
with no food for the children save breezes that sigh?


Wisdom walks on kitten feet,
padding softly down the way,
stretching out in sunlight sweet,
taking joy in gentle day,
soft of bite in play and pounce,
growing by the quarter-ounce.

Endless flurry, flicking tail,
rumble-romp, no hint of harm,
wisdom walks along the rail,
tumbles down with kitten charm.
Purring, wisdom curls to sleep
on your lap, for you to keep.