The Coming Of The Night

What sung the crow to the dying sun,

As passed day unto night;

Beheld the moon as she begun

Her usurping of the light.

At silver light the raven calls,

A silence fills the halls.

No man can stir, no beast can bear,

The coming of night fall.

I Compare You

I compare you to a mirror’s edge;
You are cunning, as you are cutting.
You are longing to distort my image,
When roughness is what is in you,
Ah! The pain I cannot long contain.
When you are smooth and beguiling,
Glistening in the moon light, my soul,
My soul shall take heed of your reflection
And fly from your deceptive presence.

I shall compare you to a still water’s edge;
Like a pale reflection of the night sky,
You do not show your depth and power.

I approached you , innocent as a victim.
I stumbled, and fell. Into you I drowned.

What The Hell

When days are long and tiring,
And music uninspiring,
No dose of tired remedies
Can stop this wasting malady.


When deep regrets enroach the mind
And spoil all they can find,
Ambition takes a bullet wound
And joy cannot be found.


When jealousy looks to centuries gone
And hopes the past can be undone
To earn the failing genius gifts
Of mind, this sullen mood to lift.


When conversation makes you mad,
And trifling remarks make you sad,
You cannot help but wonder why
Life gets harder the more you try.


But then, remember, seasons change:
There's nothing new. There's nothing strange,
And if all will not go down well,
Be calm and whisper "What the hell.".

Pip

The spiff of the lady made me wait
On cold a street, at her iron gate:
And though I wished not that it were
For love, forlorn! I did not care
That such a beauty plagued my heart.
A foolish boy sings a foolish part,
And hopes against a Sunday's rain
To beat his odds, her hand to gain.
All this, his nightly dreams to be
A gentleman; but a simple man was he.


And though I was a blacksmith's son
With sooty palms, I still had won
A handsome prize; the village lass
Whose dainty foot-falls ever pass
Before the old furnace bellowing:
My heart was glad; Her heart would sing
"Harmonious Blacksmith, dear Handel,
My joy is full, my heart is a bell!"


So long, these my great expectations,
Worked with earnest preparation,
Should only fail, and in my losing
Should I gain my pretty darling.
Susana, like a song-bird singing
Pretty lines, my pains relieving:
"Harmonious Blacksmith, dear Handel,
Your joys are full, and all is well!"


So save me one last cheerful quip,
And say it was for dear old Pip!

Down Both Roads

Asking questions already answered
in a desperate quest to clinch a dream
by the skin of a tooth.
That is how life is like,
for any one born in a cage.


You see the ends,
and know the forced limits,
but when darkness falls
and your eyes fail you,
 you ask the slave-master

 "How far will you let me go?"

 Oscillating like a pendulum,
 eternal in the timed swing:
 you are set to and fro,
 and that is all you know.

 You can imagine,
 because your mind is free,
 yet you are bound,
 and that is all that shall be.

 Looking for the escape
 is to find life's exit sign,
 and hold your breath
 and hope the theologians were right:
 better forgiveness, or oblivion,
 than the cage.

 That is what it feels like,
 when you stand before
 the forked road -
 both sides well taken -
 and ask the classical question:
 "Which shall I take?"

 Not knowing which is better;
 to be the rash fool,
 or the calculating one.

 In the end, a choice must be made,
 and the coward will choose -
 for that is what one is, who doesn't -
 to watch and wait,
 pretending to himself to calculate
 untill the night falls once more,
 and the owls hoot their dismay.

 Then he shall peer into the black,
 and be miserable in his heart:
 He shall ask the slave-master,
 "How far will you let me go?"

 But he shall get no reply,
 because he is that same master,
 and he is his own slave.

 He shall be quiet till the moon sleeps,
 and the owls give way to song-birds,
 and the refreshing rays of sun
 illuminate the metal bars
 of his mental cage.

 Then he shall sigh on his fate,
 and look down both roads,
 asking,
 "Which shall I take?"