Colin F. Jones
My doubts seem stronger than my will to hope,
Expectancy determines that I’ll cope,
For that which we might cling to with belief,
Seems now in aging but a deceitful thief.
Promises that have no substance to retain,
I believe no more for I see no gain,
For even fire glows starkly in the night,
But death brings blackness absent of all light.
All this is beauteous ; all this full in my eye,
That from my vision will vanish when I die
And all I savour I must savour now,
For nothing prayed for ever determined how,
The road would wind towards what fateful end,
Thus knowing this, I can not the truth offend.
~ 2 ~
Yesterday I was not what I am today;
I’m changed by time and life’s constant affray.
My rusting works were sparkling then, and clean,
But then, I could not see where I have been.
In youth I went where other soldiers died,
We waved our flags and stood knee deep in pride,
While mothers wept and fathers stretched their straps,
And generals ate the knowledge of their maps.
It was the same; my life, my fathers and his kin,
We toiled and strived; were victims of the spin.
We fought our wars and the consequential pain,
And watched the sequence roll right back again.
For life is dusk’s and dawns of repeated Suns,
And for those I leave behind another comes.
~ 3 ~
Mark thee thy friends where ever they may be,
Know that their value with your thoughts agree,
Those unexpressed those thoughts without words,
That beautify your belfry like summer birds.
Forced as we are to test the water ere we dip,
To aggravate with passion upon the lip,
Intending yet to anger yet to reveal,
That which from open truth we can’t conceal.
For none not even friends will reveal themselves,
Lest one who loves them stirs the pot and delves,
Into those parts that even they don’t know,
Thus allowing trust to gush and overflow.
Peace be with you who read this obscure verse,
Which traces thoughts that I could not rehearse.
©Copyright January 9, 2009 by Colin F. Jones