Author Topic: Jubal's poems  (Read 38934 times)

Jubal

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« Reply #30 on: August 22, 2009, 12:00:21 PM »
Let Us In

A silent prayer from a darkened cave
Where lions prowled and crept around
A crack of light shone down from above
He cried to the sun with a last mourning sound;
"I've committed no crime
Let my punishments cease
In the vastness of time
I can find you your peace

In the end, in the end
All you've got to do is let me in...
Let me in."

A woman in a cold stone cell
In tower high in Burgundy
From the parapet she fell
And thus she lost her fight to be free
She'd done nothing ill
But fight for her land
The glory of France
Was restored by her hand;

In the end, in the end
All they had to do was let her in...
Let her in.

A naked child in the winter's chill
A pit of blood and fear and death
A bump against the neck, a kill
A fall, a gasping final breath.
Just one among millions
Another lost face
In the desperate struggle
Of the whole human race

In the end, in the end
All we could have done was let them in...
Let them in.

I'm watching as you celebrate
In dance and mirth and flowing love
From cave to cell to Birkenau
The outcasts saw the holy dove
I drank the poisoned cup
I served my long years
To you my soul I offer up
Can you bring me from my fears?

In the end, in the end
All you've got to do is let me in...
Let me in.
Please, oh please, just let me in...
Let me in,

Let me in.
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Andalus

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« Reply #31 on: August 29, 2009, 11:30:56 AM »
Great stuff. :)
Du bist kein Schmetterling! Du bist nur eine kleine Raupe in Verkleidung!

Jubal

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« Reply #32 on: September 06, 2009, 09:08:12 PM »
The Caged Bird
There's a bird in a cage
It's a bird that I love
It's not a great eagle
Or a wren, or a dove

There's a bird in a cage
And it longs to be free
But if I should free it
Will it come back to me?

I lifted the latch,
Threw open the bars,
And like a long-suffering pilgrim
It flew to the stars.
It sang to the emperors
It charmed a princess
It sang in Cathay
And it sang to Queen Bess

And the Princess, called Kate,
Gave it drink from a bowl
And some seed from a plate
(It ate all the seeds whole)
And that beautiful bird,
With its cello-like song
Forgot the small house
Where I waited so long

There's a bird that is free
And I just have the cage
With its small golden key
And I sit here and age
For my bird has left me

I won't cry or weep now, my little birdie;
I hope that you're happy, wherever you be.
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Andalus

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« Reply #33 on: September 12, 2009, 01:48:16 PM »
Lovely poem there. :)
Du bist kein Schmetterling! Du bist nur eine kleine Raupe in Verkleidung!

Jubal

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« Reply #34 on: September 29, 2009, 08:26:23 PM »
IF DIE WE MUST
The man walked out of his house one day
And watched his family fleeing away
Was he palest white?
Was he Muslim or Jew?
Was he black as the night?
I couldn't tell you.

But he saw the rockets in the sky
And he saw the guns, saw his family die
And he turned to me, as we stood on that hill,
And sang me his song: I remember it still...

"If die we must
And if we must weep
We shall stand here and fall
While the world is asleep
If die we must
Shall we die on our feet?
Is there any last glory?
No - there is but defeat."

He talked of death and he talked of life
Of Thomas Shipp and Abram Smith
Of the lost broken men
Who knew they were through
And still - even then -
Stood before you.

But the lives of the people that die every week
The bold and the fearless, the feeble and meek
Are the pawns in a game of man against men
Where the winner must lose, and the loser is slain.

"If die we must
For some foreign belief
For some stranger's ideal
For another lord's fief
If die we must
We die for no-one;
We do not need to lose
To the point of a gun."

The man walked away down the streets of Tehran;
He looked back up towards Madrid;
He turned to Cape Town
And then to Petrograd
To Tianamen Square
To a bombed-out Baghdad.

For the man who died in that forgotten land
Died not by any soldier's hand
But his killers were us - the world looking on
And not lifting a finger until all is gone.

"If die we must"
His voice echoes still
From the halls of mind
Comes his face, soft and still;
"If die we must
Then we don't have a place
In the suffering struggle
Of this cursed human race."
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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« Reply #35 on: September 29, 2009, 09:15:16 PM »
Mercutio's Lament
(Dedicated to Miss Katherine Backler)

In Verona cemetery one day
Gone to lay some flowers on my father's tomb
I saw a man by a fine stone grave
His face was full of deepest gloom.

I stepped towards that marble stone
To see who merited such grief
To find what kind of man it was
To whom death had been such a thief.

He was a dancer, talker,
Moonlight walker,
And this the stone did show;
He was Mercutio.

He lived a man of merry wit
Of poise and laughter, life and light;
And this saddened face that I had seen
Remembered his glory, life, and might.

He was a wordsmith, fighter,
Heart-fire's lighter,
And his deeds did spark and glow;
He was Mercutio.

But in the mad hot days, so bright
Two houses fought, and he stood tall;
But bright blades crossed, and he was lost
To rest behind a churchyard wall.

He was proud and passionate,
Merry and fair,
And even in his overthrow,
He was Mercutio.

Plaguing two houses with his death
A torch fell dim; a bell unrung
And as he fell to being worm's meat
A final dirge was left unsung.

None could forget him,
Boldest of men.
And thus all must miss him so;
Miss this god,
This merry sprite,
Mercutio.
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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« Reply #36 on: September 29, 2009, 09:27:31 PM »
A Window in my Mind

Get up
Feel fine
The world
Is mine

Look out
I find
I'm trapped
In my own mind

From the high mountain passes
To the rolling sea
From the deepest caverns
To the broad oak tree

I look out the window
Out the window,
Out the window.
I look out the window
To be free.

Concrete
And steel
Is this
Place even real?

These words
They say
Mean nothing
To me today

There's nothing left of bravery
And love's river's run dry.
The flower's dead of chivalry
And it's time for hope to die...

But I look out the window
Out the window,
Out the window.
I look out the window
To be free!
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Andalus

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« Reply #37 on: October 02, 2009, 10:11:08 PM »
Good stuff! I love all three. You write very poignant works.
Du bist kein Schmetterling! Du bist nur eine kleine Raupe in Verkleidung!

Jubal

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« Reply #38 on: October 17, 2009, 11:49:42 AM »
Today and Tomorrow
Now is the time
When words shall speak louder than guns
When fingers on a keyboard shall topple Empires
When each nation puts the reporter above the statesman
When the news of war is of greater import than the outcome.

Now is the time
When the fractured world shall pull ever closer to falling
When the work of one man can bring the ruin of thousands
When the bombs fly and the fear spreads
Now is the time when the hate comes.

So what of tomorrow?

Tomorrow shall be the day
When human voices shall drown out the bombings
When a bright dawn shall arise over Kabul
When the faces, black and white, shall look on each other in pure wonder
When the reign of humans shall end, and the reign of humanity shall begin.

I shall be there
I shall be singing
I shall be standing in the sun-trail
I shall be laughing in the brighness of a new day!
« Last Edit: October 20, 2009, 08:22:09 PM by Jubal »
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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« Reply #39 on: October 17, 2009, 12:06:26 PM »
Siren Song

I thought my thoughts were almost gone
Nothing left to grab and hang on
Bitter at the faithless dove
I thought my life was almost through
I looked for a way out of love
But you...

You're like a siren,
Singing through to me.
Like a lighthouse,
Shining out to sea.
Like a lullaby, sending me to sleep
To dream of you and me.

Some say words will hurt me sore
Or gun, or sword, or lion's roar.
Or even mighty dragon's teeth
And not a word of it is true.
Nothing pierces my skin
But you...

You're like a siren,
Singing through to me.
Like a lighthouse,
Shining out to sea.
Like a lullaby, sending me to sleep
To dream of you and me.

Just like a siren,
Singing through to me.
Like a lighthouse,
Shining out to sea.
Like a lullaby, sending me to sleep
To dream of you
Just you
And me.
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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« Reply #40 on: October 26, 2009, 09:07:18 AM »
The Road to Magalie
(Dedicated to Miss Maggie Bridge)

I walked one day to Magalie
Where that place is I cannot say;
I crossed a bridge to get there though,
For Magalie is far away.

I crossed a bridge to Magalie,
I met a maiden standing there.
She had a strange and wistful smile,
A mane of wondrous gold-thread hair.

"You're on a road to Magalie"
She didn't even look away
Just stared down to the river sea
That glinted in the early day.

"I was told to go to Magalie
To find what I was searching for
And until I come to Magalie
I shan't returnto my own home door"

She looked me in the eye right then
With eyes of azure, winter blue;
"I doubt you'll get to Magalie
Unless it wants to get to you."

We talked a while, and laughed a while
Gazing down or to the furthest shore
Until I'd found a fine new friend,
And thought I wanted nothing more.

But then dawn came upon the bridge
And Magalie still seemed far away;
I bade my friend well, and put on my boots
And stepped into the fresh, new day.

As I stepped off the bridge to Magalie
I looked right back with a mournful cry
Realising I'd found Magalie;
And in my haste had passed her by.
« Last Edit: October 27, 2009, 09:35:07 AM by Jubal »
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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« Reply #41 on: October 26, 2009, 09:18:35 AM »
Cello
(Dedicated to Ellie Bishop and Tom Isaac, for making their music)

Shivering at the light touch of a finger.
Throbbing in motion
Emotion moves them, for it is emotion
Behind the human
Behind the hand
Behind the bow.

And so they sing. Strings, singing.
A choir to captivate a choir
A cry of pain or the soft talk of lovers
Captured in the strings.
And the strings do not stay silent.

Praying to the angels
The gentlest hand moves them far from human reason.

If one were to do as Odysseus' men
And block up one's ears to that siren call
Perhaps then would be seen the beauty of the cellist
Benath the columned grace of a concert hall.
Perhaps then the soft smile would draw you in
And wish your heart stood behind a wall.

But no, but no, alas, but never;
For there is nothing there but the bow on the string
The fingers moving, pale in the light.
And - oh, gods! - the music.

Just the strings
And their music
And me.
« Last Edit: October 26, 2009, 09:40:32 PM by Jubal »
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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« Reply #42 on: October 26, 2009, 09:39:14 PM »
A Kakapoem
(Dedicated to all Kakapoes, past, present and future)

I wandered in the summer rain
I saw a bird who looked at me
And so I looked at him again
And he jumped down from a tall forest tree.
And the bird didn't fly off, but walked
And so, that bird and I, we talked.

A parrot he was, and large at that
He strode along the leaf-strewn ground
He looked like Cardigan (without the hat)
And boomed to his mate with a long, lonely sound
He sat in a hollow and made it his own
And looked o'er the valley, his state to bemoan.

The Kakapo just made a sigh;
There's too few left for when I die
Though I boom all day, and though I try
There's too few mates, I say; oh, my!

"A thousand of us once strode here
Until the rats and rodents came
And all of us lived a hundred years
And feared no foe, for all were tame.
But now there's men and sharp-clawed beasts
And for them Kakapoes are well-killed feasts"

"Kakapo", I stand and cry
"Kakapo, why don't you fly?
Kakapo, take to the sky!
Or, Kakapo... you might die."

"My bones are heavy, my wings too small
I cannot leap into the air
Just try and hide among the leaves long and tall
And hide in my long-lost forested lair
For as man has come to these islands here
The Kakapoes have lost out, year by year."

Kakapo, since you cant fly
Let us sit and wistfully watch the sky
As planeloads of humans go cruising by
And the last of the Kakapoes die.
« Last Edit: October 31, 2009, 11:49:23 AM by Jubal »
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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« Reply #43 on: December 20, 2009, 11:09:02 PM »
An Atheist's Prayer

Christmases come, and Christmases go;
Still, the same Christmas.
People come, and people go;
And yet people, alas, never change.
The world comes, though, and goes, and turns and moves.
The world changes.

And so god
If there was ever god
Looked away
And so this is my prayer.

This december, this month
A child will be born near Bethlehem
And they will be living in a world
Of bomb and rocket and fatwa and death
And I pray that that child will live to see a better world.

But god
If there was ever god
Looked away
And so this is my prayer.

The snows of winter will melt
On the icecaps, and a cub, meek and mild
Will look up at its mother
And its mother will have nothing to feed it
And no-one will take that young beast and flee to better lands
And no-one will bring it gifts
So I pray that my children's world will still the have animals in that mine did

But god
If there was ever god
Looked away
And so this is my prayer.

From the east there came no wise men, in this day in this age
For they were in jails and prisons
In cells and in graves
And the gold was spent on guns
And the frankincense smelt like rotten flesh
And the myrrh was discarded, too little for too many.
I pray that wisdom will prevail
I pray that wisdom will prevail
That the madness will end
That wisdom will prevail

But god
For there never was god
Stood still
And so this is my prayer.

My lost and damned prayer
My howl to the blizzard
This is an atheist's prayer.
My prayer.
The world's future.
Amen.
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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« Reply #44 on: December 31, 2009, 05:22:29 PM »
The Most Beautiful Word

And look!
Here you are another night
Stepping across dream-clouds
Mind-warps, time-waves
Until you're gone with the light.

And hear!
Sounds like your voice once more
Speaking through thought-haze
Singing with my song
'til it fades with the dawn.

Looks like I've fallen to yearning
Your smile and a long look of trust.
I think that I'm finally learning
The most beautiful word is us.

So feel
Feels like our embrace again
Two people trying to be one
Eyes like deep gem-wells
Hugging tight in the rain.

And think
Hands twisting into finger-knots
Glances quick and smiles slow
The taste of something wonderful
Wishing for time that time forgot.

Looks like I've fallen to yearning
Your smile and a long look of trust.
I think that I'm finally learning
The most beautiful word is us.

The most beautiful word is us.
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...