Monday, September 19, 2022

Two Poem Drafts and a Poem Re-Draft


The sleep is sealing down my eyes
like envelopes with letters filled
and I am drawn by anchors down
to depths of sea against my will.

The waves are lapping at my cheek,
but strangely misty like a cloud,
as if the sky itself bent down
its stormy head, so handsome-proud.

A cloud is but a prophecy
that somehow lost its tangled way;
and I in clouds am drowning now
and falling down with falling day.

The end of day, the end of life,
the one, the other pictures small.
In sleep I softly vanish now,
as one day we will vanish all.

All Alone

All alone
beyond every wind
in an ecstasy
of worlds without end;
still as stone
when the fires descend
from eternity
where loves never die,
just infinity,
we are all alone,
you and I.

Can Even Death

 All this world's minions
before death come to flatter;
but if I love you,
can even death matter?
The world's many waters
in tide and in flood
pour down upon us;
but see -- all is good. 

If you love me,
what does death matter?
By force and by arrow,
by bullet to brain,
by harm to the soul,
by tortures of pain,
if love bonds us both,
what death can then matter?

The stars in their courses
circle above;
God in His grace
descends like a dove;
though all this world's minions
before death come to flatter,
if God is our Love,
can even death matter?