under the casuarinas

these mottled shadows mark a middle day

when even buzzing flies do not distract

and all the senses into calm contract

all who are wise seek shelter from the ray

desiring to keep head and heart intact

these mottled shadows mark a middle day

when we pass through we’ll catch sight of the bay

in middle distance through a glass that’s cracked

and in the haze not tell what’s dream from fact

these mottled shadows mark a middle day

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Published in: on 18 January, 2009 at 10:36 am Leave a Comment
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what the boy saw

a sluggish snake of water in morass

black against vulgar green and very slow

the map names it broad river how i know


that is a lesson for another class

where you may ask about what lay below

a sluggish snake of water in morass


as dark and hostile as volcanic glass

but lacking any memory of glow

simple and steady in its westward flow

a sluggish snake of water in morass

Published in: on 4 January, 2009 at 4:36 pm Leave a Comment
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listening in january

trumpets that echo vainly in the grey

chilly slow moving winter afternoon

call to us hiding each in our cocoon

we want to turn from all the good they say

claim that the messenger’s another loon

trumpets that echo vainly in the grey

do not inform us of a better day

that is our import we see no true boon

in their loud signal they have come too soon

trumpets that echo vainly in the grey

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Published in: on 2 January, 2009 at 1:18 pm Leave a Comment
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you think i have forgotten what was said
along the way and lost the count of years
in all our  rushing and from many cares

for work and needing daily to earn bread
loaded withal with more  than normal fears
you think i have forgotten what was said

enough to fill an ordinary head
with a full sense of what in truth appears
but not to give one what we might call airs
you think i have forgotten what was said

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Published in: on 21 December, 2008 at 12:07 pm Leave a Comment
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semaphore

 

signals that are delayed upon the hill

remind us of a time when we were young

and many discords were cheerily sung

 

we face the future with uncertain will

our hopes have been sent out today among

signals that are delayed upon the hill

 

there was no reason to receive a thrill

from any touch of human hand or tongue

instead we found that other folk had hung

signals that are delayed upon the hill

Published in: on 9 December, 2008 at 8:57 am Leave a Comment
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proud refusal


a single maple leaf is hanging on
in dumb defiance of the dying year
on this calm street the autumn’s plain and drear

this change of seasons is time’s greatest con
from bright and colourful to deadly sere
a single maple leaf is hanging on

age teaches us to reach a rapprochement
with all those forces in their fast career
that push us forward but one thing is clear
a single maple leaf is hanging on

Published in: on 6 December, 2008 at 3:28 pm Leave a Comment
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boundary of time

 

a single moment and we see the shade

vanish abruptly as the sun appears

night seems to caution but the new day cheers

 

towards the west late birds head in parade

nobody with their movement interferes

a single moment and we see the shade

 

some other meaning must have been conveyed

in all the gathering of daily cares

just as we note the changing of the airs

a single moment and we see the shade

Published in: on 30 November, 2008 at 4:41 pm Leave a Comment
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a simple matrix

 

those who mean well end up not knowing much

our very reason in the end rebels

at what are simple but resounding yells

 

we cannot reach and so we have to clutch

before calm force absorbs or else impels

those who mean well end up not knowing much

 

we watch the ball bounce hard right out of touch

our ears are deafened by the warning bells

nothing remains but what we hope excels

those who mean well end up not knowing much

Published in: on 25 November, 2008 at 10:03 am Leave a Comment
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so now applause

 

the age of miracles is not yet past

we see the light and are constrained to weep

at finding out that we have got off cheap

 

while others suffered from the sudden blast

and learned the price of what they got to keep

the age of miracles is not yet past

 

this turning world now seems to move too fast

for those of us who have no time to sleep

while others think that centuries just creep

the age of miracles is not yet past

Published in: on 20 November, 2008 at 9:39 am Leave a Comment
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herding in the tropics

 

a sudden torrent washes out the road

my father speaks of an all-island rain

as little lakes expand across the plain

 

wet cattle move but slowly with a goad

thick mud resists and does not answer pain

a sudden torrent washes out the road

 

no one has told me how to read this code

nor how to hold a calm and even strain

in this wet season norms have turned arcane

a sudden torrent washes out the road

Published in: on 1 November, 2008 at 4:54 pm Leave a Comment
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