Time poems
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Our Privilege
© Francis Bret Harte
Not ours, where battle smoke upcurls,
And battle dews lie wet,
To meet the charge that treason hurls
By sword and bayonet.
On your birthday, today,
© Ivan Donn Carswell
On your birthday, today, there is time to reflect
On the essence of our intimacy,
From a beginning in the spring-tide of youth
To an afterward secured in the distant mist,
Of Such Simplicity
© Ivan Donn Carswell
You and me,
the proof is there to see,
our lives are held within the spell of great simplicity,
were free of all the shadows dwelling in the hall,
Nothing ever is the same
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Gnashing teeth,
a grinding meet
of molars crashing
cuspid on cuspid
None is spared your handsome smile
© Ivan Donn Carswell
The mystery of a smile that glows within your eyes
and is framed in an innocent countenance
passes not unheeded.
Those transient's hallway smiles and greetings offered through your door
No further slice of me
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Enduring an inguinal hernia repair can
drive you to despair, it is a monumental
nonsense; in my defence I hadnt lived
through one before, couldnt be sure
Composed At The Same Time And On The Same Occasion
© William Wordsworth
I DROPPED my pen; and listened to the Wind
That sang of trees uptorn and vessels tost--
A midnight harmony; and wholly lost
To the general sense of men by chains confined
Scum Of The Earth
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
There was a group called called Scum of the Earth
And they say they got their birth
In a basement bar on Greek Street down in Soho
The bass man he smoked grass and the drummer he kicked ass
Nights sentinel
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Even tonight will pass into memorys oblivion,
doomed, despite an ardent reunion
of once estranged yet precisely matched parts,
to a guiltless verdict a foregone conclusion.
My enemy my friend
© Ivan Donn Carswell
My enemy my friend
whom I know without compromise,
when I listened to the
deconstructions avowed of you
The Fishing Outfit
© Edgar Albert Guest
You may talk of stylish raiment,
You may boast your broadcloth fine,
Moocooboola Dam
© Ivan Donn Carswell
For more than a billion years weve been
nearly out of water; sincerely, a need repeatedly
exposed in calamitous reports of the tragic-comic sort
glibly cognising a collective we as the principle cause
Sonnet 82: "I grant thou wert not married to my Muse,..."
© William Shakespeare
I grant thou wert not married to my Muse,
And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook
Lawstudent And Coach
© Lesbia Harford
Each day I sit in an ill-lighted room
To teach a boy;
For one hour by the clock great words and dreams
Are our employ.
Love stopped before it began
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It would have been love, I am sure of it,
and I held her hand torn between concern and pride
whilst she cried and cried on her first day at school.
Jacks Legacy
© Ivan Donn Carswell
The critic gushed and said, Just like Jack,
so raw, I never thought to see another writer just
like Kerouac! Kerouac, who the fuck is he? A writer?
Christ, thats a laugh, compare me to a writer!
Retribution
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
When Egypt said, "Exterminate
The males among the Jews,
Fair Goshen's land make desolate
And bid them glad adieus:"
It seldom snowed - Part II
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It seldom snowed in Camp they said, on the mountains, yes,
and in the Styx, aka zone six. Thats where we were afoot
in alpine grass, garbed to test our winter skills,
tramp the craggy hills and camp a night or two,
It seldom snowed, they said - Part I
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It seldom snowed, they said, it might get cold but it wont be snow;
well, one should guess the locals know the weather best and I was new,
so when I left the warmth of the limited express and descended onto
a dimly lit, deserted siding I was not impressed to find the ground at
