Questions

Words hang silent in the air,

Unspoken by the tongue, but there 

Between a thought and sound expressed

A question, so uncertain, rests.


How many things are felt, not said,

And sit in shadows with the dead,

Yet live they on, as spectres dumb,

Hov’ring where no speech has come?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The People Yearn

  The people yearn for tales of hope, For legends ancient told Of lives beyond a shadow’s yoke,   Of valiant deeds and bold. Tell eager ears the stories great  Of kings and knights so true, Who dragons met, and fought to slay ‘Neath daylit skies of blue. And what of lays both sad and fair? They, too, must oft be sung; For hearts must mourn ‘neath heavy air, And feel while they are young. Proclaim the tales of heralds past, Surviving cent’ries gone, That those who hear them now, at last, Can see from whence they come.
Read more

The Capitol City

Once, a nation new was born ‘Neath clouds of war, and tyrant’s storm, And grew it swiftly; strong and brave Her people fought, her name to save. Then rose a city from the sea Where yet no city built could be, And made therein were beauteous halls, Great courts, and stonework, glimmering all. And through the years, there rose yet more Memorials to her fallen swords, And generations came from far  To see these somber works of art. But then, alas, the past was lost Small piece by piece, to darkened thought, And monuments to figures brave Were left to molder as a grave. Fair fountains blue were let run dry And pools reflecting clearest sky Were cracked and muddy left to be,  While men forgot their history. Let these memorials shine again! Reclaim this city from low men, Lest into dark of shame and strife This nation’s honor ends its life.
Read more

Stewarding

  When long a people dwells upon A land so fair, ‘neath shining sun, And build they cities o’er the years, With towers great, forged out of steel; When long explored the land has been And towns and roads are built, and then Still further through the wild they go Regardless of the winter’s snow; What then, when all the rivers marked And mountains sketched upon a chart Have been, and sea to shining sea Holds no more ancient mystery? How must we steward soil dear, From tranquil lake to bustling pier, Rememb’ring those who came before, Preparing generations more!   
Read more