Head stuck
In a pretty rain cloud
For too long
Raindrops race down my cheeks
It's time to leave
Finally free, I look around
Iced leaves, bursting buds
Crystal shards of ice untouched
Sun rays hit branches
Mind vacant
The sun shines on
Rays reflecting in the pond
Bees bumble by swaying swans
Swallows swoop by bursting butterflies
Clouds cluster
Moving on
Is like finally being able to breathe
And dear God
Is the fresh air nice
some days are better than others
some are filled with sunshine
and others are filled with darkness
but on my darkest days
I think...
one day I'll be free
I'll spread my wings, fly away
and never look back again
but that day is not today
The scrach of pens on paper
The russle of a turning page
When will it be over
over
over
Keep your head down
What is the answer to this question
When will it be over
over
over
Rembering long lost
People, things, lives
When will it be over
over
over
"Pens down"
once
it did not take blandness
to provoke action
once joy was sufficient
once
the smile of a passing stranger
was reward enough
at one time
you would even laugh
without apparent reason
all that is gone
the costume must be chosen with care
the makeup must be correct for the role
once you tried freedom
no longer
for you
Love has earth to which she clings
With hills and circling arms about--
Wall within wall to shut fear out.
But Thought has need of no such things,
For Thought has a pair of dauntless wings.
On snow and sand and turf, I see
Where Love has left a printed trace
With straining in the world’s embrace.
And such is Love and glad to be.
But Thought has shaken his ankles free.
Thought cleaves the interstellar gloom
And sits in Sirius’ disc all night,
Till day makes him retrace his flight,
With smell of burning on every plume,
Back past the sun to an earthly room.
His gains in heaven are what they are.
The bear puts both arms around the tree above her
And draws it down as if it were a lover
And its choke cherries lips to kiss good-bye,
Then lets it snap back upright in the sky.
Her next step rocks a boulder on the wall
(She’s making her cross-country in the fall).
Her great weight creaks the barbed-wire in its staples
As she flings over and off down through the maples,
Leaving on one wire tooth a lock of hair.
Such is the uncaged progress of the bear.
The world has room to make a bear feel free;
The universe seems cramped to you and me.
Man acts more like the poor bear in a cage
That all day fights a nervous inward rage,
His mood rejecting all his mind suggests.
He paces back and forth and never rests
I was a small child
when a bird flew into our house —
I caught it.
It was tweeting and tweeting
trying to flee.
‘Free it’, my grandfather said.
‘No’, I replied, ‘it is singing.
Let’s keep it in a cage’.
‘It is crying’, he said.
‘Birds sing only in the forest;
in the cage, they just cry.’
He opened the window.
I let the bird go.
Our jail mentality has us
observing the fatted Geese
lining the courtyard walls.
Black and white sentinels, guards,
while my celly and I thought:
the freedom of birds, flights
out of here, past the glass.
Breezes, the speed of clouds.
If everything is impermanent why do you want it
I don’t want anything for ever
You will disappoint everyone
Then you will be free
Into the homelessness of the sea I awoke :
Oh, my heart of the wind and spray !
I am glad to be no-man to-day
With the laughter and dance of the sea-soul.
Dip the song of the sea and wind,
Throw it into my heart of longing !
I like to be with the clan of the waters and air :
Oh, my soul of the sea-soul and surge !
Roll in the wonder of the heart and sea, —
Oh, my joy of the sea-soul and flash !
Gather all the lights of the wind and sea,
To guard against the blackest night.
When I go free,
I think 'twill be
A night of stars and snow,
And the wild fires of frost shall light
My footsteps as I go;
Nobody--nobody will be there
With groping touch, or sight,
To see me in my bush of hair
Dance burning through the night.