Thought to me is vision without words;


Thought, the vision of the inner eye,
Peers behind the mask of mundane view
A choosing of the best of what comes by
Not the monsters on the Daily News

Thought to me is vision without words;
Needs silent presentation and review.
The words  translate the images  that surge
Then fall back to the ocean where they grew.

Like coloured visions of the  deep seabed
Where fishes reel and dance, where life is new.
What we  mean  with difficulty’s said
Yet evocation summons  it to view.

Let my  words evoke my love  of you;
And answer me with many kisses new.

Smaller than the pebbles drowned sea moist

An agnostic yet I need my God
For many parts of life cannot be voiced
Without the sacred language, I learned of.

More a place  and less a cruel Rod
Willing us to have the rights of choice
An agnostic yet I need my God

Lesser than both lower and above
Neither is he man, nor girl nor boy
In the sacred language I learned of.

Greater than  the mountain tops  of love
Smaller than the pebbles drowned sea moist
Me, agnostic, yet I need such God!

Wilder than a stallion newly shod
Quieter than that little, still, small voice
In the sacred language I learned, read.

As by our own science, we are hoist
There’s humour in that  secret, still embrace
I agnostic, need  to walk with God
And use the sacred language I learned  of.


A fever and intensity of will

After many hours of patient  thought
An image  of bright power  came to my mind
Enabled by  techniques  my study bought
Without such language, anyone is blind.

A fever and intensity  of will
Made my brain catch fire and flash, ignite.
And yet the image glowing was quite still
As if to demonstrate perpetual light.

As I lay in bed the vision came
Unprovoked, not known of, gave me sight
Many years of patient study  gained
The power of signs and symbols, their delight.

The vision came inspired by will and art
To motivate  me for the travails of the heart

Will it make a difference that I wrote?

Does it matter if I cast my vote
The polling station is a common ground
Will it make a difference what I write?

If our writing’s good it should throw light
On whether politicians are unsound
Or if it matters, should I  go to vote

Today the atmosphere in Britain’s not too bright
We are from chaos just one single bound
Will it make a difference what I write?

Ideas like shadow’s on the walls of caves
Need capturing immediately they’re found
Does it matter if I use my vote?

In our country, all our nerves are taut
A little noise will wantonly resound
Will it make a difference what I write?

The politicians strident still abound
The agents of derision lead their hounds
Does it matter if I cast my vote
Will it make a difference that I wrote?




Political poems



Plato wanted to banish poets from his Republic because they can make lies seem like truth. Shelley thought poets were “the unacknowledged legislators of the world,” and Auden insisted that “poetry makes nothing happen.” This collection of poems point to the many different kinds of political poems, and the reasons for writing them.


Ushering In: U.S. Inaugural Poems
JFK requested Frost, Clinton invited Angelou and Miller, and Obama asked Alexander: read the four poems that have been read at presidential inaugurations.

Praise Song for the Day” by Elizabeth Alexander

I know there’s something better down the road.
We need to find a place where we are safe.
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

from “On the Pulse of Morning” by Maya Angelou

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,

The Gift Outright” by Robert Frost

Something we were withholding made us weak
Until we found out that it was ourselves

Of History and Hope” by Miller Williams

But how do we fashion the future? Who can say how
except in the minds of those who will call it Now?