joe2poetry

Poetry from a Dublin Scientist

Month: September, 2011

Stories

Lets us sit around a circle,

Tell stories through the night.

Have some of loves romantic folly,

Or horror tales that fright.

Adventure tales of daring do,

Where our man gets the girl.

A comedy, where “she’s” a “he”

and leads our boy to hurl.

Whatever words you have to speak

we’ll think that their all swell.

Cause everybody has a tale,

All you have to do is tell.

My Garden

I tend my garden all the while,

Cutting grass and pulling weeds,

Though tiring work, it makes me smile,

Attending vegetables needs.

While it is clears my muddy head

To be out in the morning sun

Other loafers stay in bed

and sadly miss out all the fun.

Though mild work does my garden take,

It pays it back and so much more.

A ten yard kingdom, yours to make,

Whatever whims you have in store.

The night

The night brings out the strangest in us,

Heavy beats and the full moon alter the flow of mens minds,

Bring the inner animal to the fore,

Cast out the rational of the day.

The night is more primal, speaks to the older, primitive part.

The evolution in the light is shrouded in the dark

Hidden from view, given free rein, the madness can take hold.

Libation is freely taken and dance flows uncontrollably

The night becomes more and more intense, as if striving to meet a zenith, an ultimate goal

But instead there is dawn, the fresh light of the new day, banishing the demons of night.

So that there hosts can rejoin the world, tired, though contented.

and await the coming of the next night, their next chance to reign.

Change

I find myself lost today,

Looking for to find my way,

Through a world, changing fast,

A storm to which I’ve been cast,

The change, so quick, brings the new,

Which lasts much like the morning dew.

Short lived beauty, passing joy

Lasting like the cheapest toy.

The rule’s for sure that nothing stays,

Keep that close, for all your days.

Dread

Stomach in knots, head is swimming.

Bile surges, my throat, it’s brimming.

My worried mind fills with dread

I’d rather die my death instead.

This worry fills my waking mind,

My days with terror of a kind

But soon I know that right will win,

Will never fall to small man’s sin.

That I will survive all this strife

and go to live a carefree life.

Fate

What is my purpose? Why am I here?

The answers I’m seeking lead me to much fear.

To have no direction, not know where to go,

Can lead me to question all that I know.

My future needs structure, a goal to aspire.

To not have an endpoint makes me feel dire.

But I know what the truth is, my life is a game

To start it again means it won’t stay the same.

Each choice is a gamble, for each brings an end.

The freedom of choosing, our right to defend.

I know that whatever my future may be,

The only agent worth blaming, is me.

Wind

The wind blows constantly,

Sucking what little heat from the crouched up people struggling against the stream.

They wrap themselves as tightly as they can,

Suits of fabric armour against the elements,

Travel outside is limited,

People only brave the weather when they have to,

Running furiously between the buildings,

The shock of raw nature kept to a minimum,

Keeping themselves isolated from the world,

The problems of life at a distance.

Wrapped in coats of misery.

The wait

There is a frog in my throat as I wait

The butterflies are doing laps and my legs take on the consistency of jelly

I am in a state of mild panic

The uncertainty of what awaits fills my thoughts

The build-up of what seems like countless days adds to the growing sense of dread

How will it go? Will we get on?

I haven’t a clue, I don’t know the future.

Everyone who passes could be her, would I be able to tell?

I am standing in the world but locked in my own thoughts

My face is to the ground when I hear a voice directed to me “hello!”

Is this her? It must be! The tide of uncertainty have reached their ebb.

The wait is over, I lift my head, To see, to find out, what comes next.

The chase

The ball flies through the air in a shallow arc,

A hairy blur in hot pursuit.

With a immaculately timed, infinitely precise jump,

She grabs her prey from the air.

There is a spring in her step as she saunters back

To lay her prize at the feet of her master.

Eyes up, willing the act, to throw again,

To repeat the cycle of chase and capture.

To run until the vast stores of energy are spent

and then to lie in panting contentment.

The noble rest of the hunter

Living life’s sweet moment.

 

Explorer

I am an explorer,

Sailing the sea of knowledge,

Looking for new lands, vast seas of existence not yet discovered.

Experiment and reason my sails and rudder,

The work of giants before me, my guide and my compass.

Occasional storms of doubt assail me,

But I stand true.

The greatest adventure, of invention, discovery,

Await just over the horizon.