Softly and Tenderly

Softly and tenderly I hear your voice again,
And has it been so long and I so very wrong?
Slight enticements led me away day after day,
Until your face was but a shadowy memory,
And your choice voice but vaporous whisper;
But now how clear I hear your song over me!
Softly and tenderly I hear your voice again. . .

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Songs of the Bard

Solemnly the bard calmly sings though the days
Punctuated by nights filled with the light of stars
With pale moon that makes lovers swoon so soon,
And the tune is new with each rising of the sun,
So that the poet has just begun a fresh new song
Sung long as the minutes grow into hours of light,
Slow and bright, taking flight from earth to sight
Of heaven, where time is known but not shown,
And eternity sweeps over his soul filling the hole
In everlasting joy and welcome peace as he plays
His part, bringing art to the beauty of his duty
Happily welling up to an overflowing blessing
In the heart of a bard, who counts hard moments
As joyful messages of certain growth and vision
Beyond the present into an unknown tomorrow
Laden with hope and promise of new beginnings
Never ceasing but increasing in love from above
. . .
Solemnly the bard calmly sings though the days
Punctuated by nights filled with the light of stars
With pale moon that makes lovers swoon so soon

Dancing With Ten Thousand Faces of Beauty

Amid ten thousand faces of Beauty, and I would choose but one,
One to love, to love me, and bath me in her golden sun;
But the curse laid upon me from my birth, when life had just begun
Forbids sweet charity for the lonely soul so lonely and alone…

So I’ll dance with ten thousand faces of Beauty
For the chance,
Chance to love but one in the wild dance we dance.

One River of Beauty, twisting and turning and ever flowing,
She never changes, despite harsh winds of hatred blowing;
Quickly now her waters, then slowly, dim yet also clear,
Translucent and wholesome yet sinister and oh-so austere….

So I’ll dance with ten thousand faces of Beauty
For the chance,
Chance to love but one in the wild dance we dance.

I would have her lift me up from the very pits of hell,
Awaken me from daemonic spell, ere tolls my funeral bell;
I would have her fly me high into her heavens above,
But below do I live with Beauty, and so starved of love…

So I’ll dance with ten thousand faces of Beauty
For the chance,
Chance to love but one in the wild dance we dance.

What curse laid upon me from my birth, when life had just begun
Forbids sweet charity for my lonely soul so lonely and alone?
Yet never with one to love me, and bath me in her golden sun,
With ten thousand faces of beauty, heart mended and one soul won…

So I’m dancing with these ten thousand faces of Beauty,
Still chancing,
Chancing to love but one in the wild dance we’re dancing.

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Note: First published in June 2015

High Calling of the Artisan (Revised)

As muses conspire to inspire poets and artisans,
Wraiths gather around the gateway of the soul
To emasculate all creativity, to frustrate the pen
Or brush, opening up the floodgate of confusion
To fixate some poor soul on some senseless sight
Or sound ‘n none that’s worth a pound of manure
And all to secure his attention on anything at all
But the intention to create; and thus making him
Into a kind of artistic reprobate who then hates
What he’s not done because he’s taken the bait
Of unseen creatures who only satiate themselves
By stilling the mind and killing all true creativity;
But the good muses pay the price and still play
On numinous harps to sharpen the wit of artistry,
Praying he will dive into the sea of his own soul
And be what he was meant to be by taking hold
Of pen or brush to begin to bring into our reality
What was not before — lyrical poem to be read,
Song to be sung, picture to be admired and more
To heal the hearts of sore humanity in its insanity;
To bring peace to the fires of funeral pyres and
To send love from above around the round world;
To be an artisan fulfilling his most high calling!

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Note: First published in September 2016, now slightly revised and republished for the enjoyment (and perhaps edification) of new reader-followers. Blessings to one and all!

Path to Serenity

There is a path to serenity and plenty of room to travel
Though the road is gravel and pain is a part of the gain

This inviting pilgrimage is rough
Your choices are certainly tough
And shrill sounds surround you
With dæmons around you, too
But in the end you’ll be all new

With right dignity there is an epiphany in the cacophony
Just hold your head high and fear deny even as you sigh

This golden cup comes with perspiration along the way
And temptation to exasperation but the goal is worthy

This inviting pilgrimage is rough
Your choices are certainly tough
And shrill sounds surround you
With dæmons around you, too
But in the end you’ll be all new

A brand new you . . . in serenity
A brand new you . . . in serenity

There is a path to serenity and plenty of room to travel
Though the road is gravel and pain is a part of the gain

You Are an Artisan

Sometimes you get hit hard ‘n just feel like crying,
And sometimes even lying in bed hurts your head;
Sometimes you feel like curling up and just dying,
And sighing isn’t enough when you’re truly trying
To do your finest to fight through another life test
When you feel like a unwanted guest in the world
But you stand as tall as you can and give it your all
Even though it seems nobody really understands
And all you get in return are more hard demands
And so you wonder what to do, options too few,
But then you spy pen, pencil, or brush and hush,
For there they all are, instruments for your scars
To turn your pain into some kind of gain yet again
And in turn to bless others and maybe to impress
Something upon their minds and souls to unbind
Them from their own shackles with seeds sown
From your very own life blood . . .
You Are an Artisan

Dance With Me This Day . . . And Forever

Dance the dance of life with me in all of its uncertainties,
Dance thru the woods and hills, homes and universities,
Prance like a fawn, whirl ‘n twirl to your heart’s delight
In the bright light of crisp winter morn, born of gladness,
And let sorrow go as you show off your glee in being free;
Oh dance with me! I in you and you in me in sweet liberty!
Turn away from funeral pyre and dance round living fire,
Which will not burn as you turn round and round in joy;
Songs are sung from the heavens, songs of your belonging
To me so freely given to you wholly and true in our unity!
Dance the dance of life with me in all of its uncertainties,
And be not sad; good has come to your door,
Not any bad, with so much in store and more!
So take my hand, come my way to dance with me this day!

Write: Song of an Artisan

Write
Write before the darkness comes
When no one can write for lack of light;
Fight with the sword of the pen
Without sin;
Against the corpulence of fraudulence,
Violence, and wicked opulence;
Fight with the might of words
To be heard round the world;
Write and fight
To appeal to the better part of the heart;
Preach the good news of love
And hope and peace — real possibility
That all wars might cease
If we but put out the fleece
Of light, life and truth
Apart from mere caprice;
Writers and poets, write;
Even by starlight in the night, write;
Artists paint and paint without taint
Of self-adulation and do not grow weary;
Do not faint along the way this day;
Musicians sound your symphonies
Skillfully, brilliantly with dignity . . .
Artisans join together in benignity
For peace on earth, goodwill toward all;
Oh yes, write however you write;
Write before the darkness comes
When no one can write for lack of light;
Fight with the sword of pen or brush,
With notes and quotes and floats,
With throats and coats and lifeboats;
Devote your talents to the gallant art
Of light and life, love and peace . . .
Write

Song That Inspired the Poem

Shadow Bard

It’s hard, sitting in the darkness, playing shadow bard;
Staying in my place, moving like an eel ~ slime pace ~
Singing another low song, to save face, amid the throng
Of easy ego-pleasers with no wrong turn, too bad to burn,
To dense to learn; help me Eloise! I but aim to please!

It’s hard watching ’em die, while I play shadow bard;
Up and down, turn around, cause it’s bound to get wild
As the sound of my flute dances so freely in the air;
Better wear your best mask, cause it’s my task to stay
And play, yours to suck it up, cause you’re stuck here. . .

Here, there, everywhere, I stay to play shadow bard;
From the dark with haunting music, taunting lyrics,
And flaunting sound that hounds your everlasting soul.
Pick up the bowl, lick the cherry, let the juice stick
In your mouth; be merry! I’m the shadow bard . . .

Shadow Bard