Dreams poems

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snail and spiral

© Rg Gregory

i take my property with me says the snail
slow-moving (yes) but packed with sublime thought
the house upon its back some kind of grail
vulnerable to brute boot - and wisdom bought

in search of milk and paradise

© Rg Gregory

puddles idle in
the dips of surfaces
neglected for decades

owls and pussy cats and seven-year -old boys

© Rg Gregory

owls and pussy cats can make up their minds
to sail out to sea and even get married
but they don't have parents or other such binds
whose one job in life is to see that they're harried

The Missionary - Canto Sixth

© William Lisle Bowles

The second moon had now begun to wane,

Since bold Valdivia left the southern plain;

from the Ansty Experience

© Rg Gregory

(a)
they seek to celebrate the word
not to bring their knives out on a poem
dissecting it to find a heart

confession

© Rg Gregory

for all my country poses
my cells belong to a town
grass is symbol-deep in me
but brick dips deeper down

peach-power

© Rg Gregory

peaches exude this thrall -
reminders of those luscious
whereabouts that lips
best find their precious sips
to cry let this be all

It's strange, like a dream, but somehow alive and painful
to walk in evening lanes, looking at lights and shadows
as at a traveling show, to be the wind and the branch
pressed against the sky, to pass in shapes, and flow
as on a river's tide, and each shape is a wave
rising alone and alone silently falling. . .

natural therapy

© Rg Gregory

the great thing about the tall white daisy
is that it knows how to laugh at itselfsome flowers for all their rich displays
won't preen themselves without a primnessin their sap - nor let their stalks abide
bending this way that way in the thick windthe large daisy is happy to be slapdash

Abolition Of Slavery In The District Of Columbia, 1862

© John Greenleaf Whittier

When first I saw our banner wave

Above the nation's council-hall,

The Shepherd Boy

© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall

Little and lonely,
Knowing me only,
Shall I not comfort you, shepherd-boy?

Boccaccio

© Eugene Field

One day upon a topmost shelf
I found a precious prize indeed,
Which father used to read himself,
But did not want us boys to read;

The Grave

© Robert Blair

While some affect the sun, and some the shade,
Some flee the city, some the hermitage;
Their aims as various, as the roads they take
In journeying through life;the task be mine,

The Spartans At Thermopylae

No parleying with themselves, no pausing thought
Of worse or better consequence, was there,
Their business was to do what Spartans ought,
Sparta's chaste honour was their only care.

Remembrance

'Tis done! - I saw it in my dreams;
No more with Hope the future beams;
My days of happiness are few:
Chill'd by misfortune's wintry blast,

thirteeners

© Rg Gregory

18
if you want a revolution attack
symbols not systems - the simple forms
that (blithely) give the truth away
tying down millions to their terms
quietly with no one answering back

daft icarus

© Rg Gregory

it began as a secret desire (an itch
in the marrow too vague to get through
to the bone) an idea that never could
make it as flesh - there wasn't a part of me