POETRY

Robert James Michell, Montreal

In Starlight—Writ

If we had only heeded, surely we’d have known!
If only, in our self-serve we had recked the Day!
Where were the signposts? Where was the light?

O, my friend, but it was always there,
There, when we were bat-like dwellers
Of those dark and searching places—
It was there—in starlight—writ!

Or, It was hidden in a sea of chaos.
In white noise, in an ancient code,
It was there within the germ of being
Wrapped in all our brutish ecstacies.

** ** ** ** ** **

Where once, there was excuse for blindness
Now, it’s crystal clear—clear as the gath’ring blue;
O, just look at that spotless crown of cumulus!

It is often there at the close of a fright’ning storm
In a brilliant arc of hope. O, yes!
If you would only look up to the Arc of Glory!


There I slaked the parch of self

O, have I wandered far where
Burdened camel trains
ply the swell of dunes
in deserts brim with want
And seen them scurry out to
Form a ring of tents around
Where stout cord and canvas
May outlast the desert jinn
Then, watched them loose
their loads in wet oases—
in haunts of owl and panther
Where they bedded down in thickets
their thorns a-bristle
And in a sun-lit grove among the rocks
perhaps, a sudden lash of viper
And when, upon the shimm’ring
line, mirages would arise:
Houris ripe for Bedouin taste
And young wives in noisy markets
swim in fragrant seas of
spices, teas, perfumes
There I slaked the parch of self
With waters sweetened
by Your love. There
I pleased the pallet—
Your eager fists so
full of dates and figs
_____________________________

Endless are the
Permutations of the Noble Mind

Endless are the permutations of the noble mind—
enjoining chants to haste the sun along
dreaming up cold fusions in mock cuisine
scheming to create our own-clone solar burst
Compassion is but logic to the noble heart—
towing icebergs for Sahara widows
playing hop-scotch with brown-eyed muchachas
weeping over gorilla-hand ashtrays
Sincerity’s the genus of the noble soul—
abiding wisdoms in the holy wood
viewing lotus blooms on some quiet pond
walking softly with a knotty stave
One virtue alone may claim to a crown of kings—
to become a straw detached from all but wind
play the spirit like a hollow reed, as you
follow in the Master’s submissive steps

___________________________________________

Haiku based on some of Bob's paintings

(Autumn Garden)

Luminous new blooms
Against the sombre jetty
They weren't there yesterday
_______________________________

(Albany Harbour Tug)

Puffing on a pipe
Old man with mighty arms-
Ancient harbour tug

______________________________

(A Favourite Place)

The further shore
Clad in joyous regalia
The water knows it, too

_____________________________

(Yellow Flowers)

In the midst of pain
Cut flowers seem to shout joy
Before the withering

____________________________

(Matilda Bay)
A proud cluster of sails
Seems to vie with the tower
At Matilda Bay

____________________________

(Kings Park Visitors)

Old-folks among the flowers
-True beauty in compassion
-True wisdom briefly blooms

____________________________

(Sunset City)

The dying sun knows
There is beauty in concrete
Look beyond the pain

posted by Unknown @ 4/23/2006 10:27:00 am