To -- Who Thought Of It

Without Poetry

Without poetry I'd die

Or rupture and explode -

The ocean would

Come gushing out my eyes

And nose and mouth -

My head would float toward the beach

And settle in the sand -

And my cadaver like a craft

Would undirected drift

Upon the sea -

 

The Sea

The ocean is an ugly thing.

You drown in its embrace.

From its depths you don't escape

In animal disgrace.

You like a sunken galleon sink

And settle in the silt,

Investigated by the fish,

Eyes closed. Do what thou wilt.

And as the currents carry you

Beneath the sea and far,

You are extinguished like a lamp,

And buried, like a star.

 

The Soldier

He went to Nam.

Jesus! They were proud!

A sniper in the 7^th Infantry.

He killed a lot of gooks

Who were not human,

With no homes, no loves, no families.

When he came back

He hadn't got a wound,

But several decorations. He retired.

As he aged (he never took a job)

He grew slowly taciturn and cold.

At 50 he had ceased to speak a word.

But often in the night he would go mad.

9-21-12

 

Temperate Love

Sleep not in sunlight too intense

Nor in the forest grimly dense

But in the shadow of a tree

With dark, warm, gentle light on thee

And all with no philosophy

But love and sad mortality.

And I shall lie with thee my friend

If thou dost want it til the end

Of daylight. Know the night with me

In sleep and gentle ecstasy.

Our passing thoughts we shall exchange.

No trait in thee will seem more strange

To me than those that are mine own.

And safer love we've never known.

Somewhere a cat

Somewhere a cat

Rubs its side against a fence.

That's sleep.

Cobwebs between doorless jambs

Are doors.

That's the moon.

Dark purple wine

Splashes down the sides

Of a lead mug.

That's the night.

To – Who Thought Of It

Come visit me, my olden love.

Renew and warmly make an

Acquaintanceship in current love

And gently reawaken

Those tender feelings in my heart

That I have not forsaken.

My love requires no design.

It simply can be taken.

The winter's gone, the flowers bloom

Among the matted clover.

Come sit with me and do not say

That yesterday is over.

Be with me as you were, my love,

My ancient love the same.

And lay a flower on my stone

And sit beside my name.

If you like my poems, I have books on Amazon, both paperback and Kindle.  The paperbacks are usually $10 or less.  And the Kindles usually $1.  To see them, go to Amazon, click on Books on the drop down, and type Joseph Hart Poetry in the search bar.  The poems in this post are in a book called "Old Charms".