Upon Having Much Thought but Nowhere to Put it

by - 2:48 PM


Upon Having Much Thought But Nowhere to Put it

I
Words are worthless when actions assay
To contradict their foolish play.
Your tongue may trip and slip and soar
And flatter more than e’er before
But no, I’ll know what’s in your mind
Based on your deeds. And there I find
A thousand cries against your please
A million voices say “And these
Are nothing more than empty prate!”
You’ll look and find you are too late.

II
The noose is bloody and the hand,
That looses trap-door where there stand
The hunching forms of men condemned,
Is claw-like, cruel and set to rend.
Three, two, one and down they fall
The ropes twang taught and they are all
Broken-necked or thrashing wild
Until at last their throes are stilled.
Still, so still, that last, the crow
Does pluck their eyes a day from now.

III
Black feathers, green feathers, red feathers, white
Gray down and brown down and candlelight.
Up in her tower the princess is sewing
Tiny, bright stitches faithfully going
Daintily on their long, narrow feet
Until the circle is round and complete.
Scissors and thimbles and thread all upon
The small sewing table, lift up and set down
One after the other, each piece has its use
And all depends on what the princess will choose.

IV
Mantel-piece, tell me, what have you in dust
That makes all your standing dissuade all your rust?
Tell me, good candle-stick, do you p’rhaps miss
The hot glowing touch of a wax-taper’s kiss?
And, oh, sweet portrait of maiden so fair
That stands gathering dust over there
Your hues were once rosy – once people did gaze
Upon your bright canvas and it’s gentle face.
Oh, sad, lost room where no one lives more
Do you wish things were now as ‘twere before?

V
Time’s a fickle, rascally thing
First faster than thought on an eagle’s wing
Then slower than heart-beats that pace to the grave.
What is the worth when time we would save?
Fate’s even worse – so choosy and harmful
Tricking us mortals into giving armfuls
Of gold and of pleasure and peace for a chance
To merit Fate’s smile, or at least a glance.
Time and Fate - comrades to steal the poor soul
Of every man who has good life and full.

VI
Children are blessings when they have control
And lacking, the clamor takes more than its toll
In wrinkles and gray hairs, in dull, saddened eyes.
Oh why do the women now so strongly prize
The thought of some children and hope for the same?
Really, the world must be quite insane.
But no, that’s just me, as upward you’ll look
And tell me, once you’ve let your eye be your cook,
That I have prate longly enough for a day
And with that, I sigh and down my pen lay.



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  1. Although it can seem scattered, this is one of my favorite poems that you have ever written!!! It is so rich and raw and powerful, and I hope you write more like it in the future :D

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