I recently discovered that we have even more talent in
our ranks than I'd previously thought: Our very own Garret,
currently in London, is something of a poet. 

So, with permission, I'm posting a couple of his pieces with 
a link to the rest of his site.  Comments to me, and I'll
pass them on. 

--Chris

All (c) Garret McDermott



Joy 
---

She held hands with hearts desire
And beheld herself with a halfeye.
A tangible feeling of bliss like fire
Surrounded all and pretenses did die.
Beauty is pain, and in pain beauty
For a girl to smash a mirror- Why?
She would torture herself in the line of duty.
Footgazer, invisible was the sky.

A diffident dilettante in designing foot binding
She slowly sways with her lotus gait.
A genuine gilded lily with her silver silken winding,
Her thought, brute dignity, she makes her fate.
When beauty becomes a burden, friend, 
And the pain of bound feet abounds,
The obsession in your words must end
Before new cry for help sounds

On that road, that journey back,
Sacrosanct was every word.
Every second overflowed with Joy
As i wished to liberate her like a bird.

As birds of a feather, we could live in peace
Beneath the battlements playing,
And the fun and joy would never cease
As we create a new game.
As kings of the Castle, we'd catch that Rascal
Who says that things should change.
Then together we'd walk in Joyful's land
Enjoying all sight, straight and strange.

"We'll meet again in this same spot"
Was a promise made and meant.
We'll continue from where we left off
Trust these words; airtight they are sent.
I smiled and i sang all summer,
Wrapped in a blanket of bliss.
Day one, though, i shun her
Then came the feeling like this.

And when upon the sky i looked today,
Joy upon me came.
The sky was as a silver silken wonder
For in the clouds i saw her name.


 
Wait 
----

When minds go where minds want
And hands stop what they do,
Roses wilt in Paradise
And leave but a shadow of you.

You're lost in thronging crowd-
Just a face to look upon,
No desires met nor made,
Waiting for a clean dawn.
A break will come, friend,
Tapping on your stage
Keep an open eye, friend, 
To hide your yellow rage.



More at:-
http://www.geocities.com/sproutulip/skribblersink/goink.html

Reply via email to