Husband Waiting

My wife she smiles and smiles upon my sins –
I drink too much, and swear, and fool around
With cars all day; but when the game begins
I’m there to cheer for Knick or Cub or Brown.
All this is good – but there, I know she waits
Above the sink, or in our marriage bed,
As if some magic waits on opened gates
When some enchanting incantation’s said.
But here I am, no magic waits for me
To take me from my sins or from my couch;
I am but what I am – why can’t she see
That, yes, I’ll rise again, only to slouch
Towards the frig to be refreshed by beer,
And win or lose it draws a nagging fear.

Fifth Avatar, Four

Oldham Manning,
Four Little Fates

Good little Tom glanced left and right and thought
That all was clear before his hasty feet;
So there he stepped and there his steps were brought
To their swift end upon a city street.
His little woman, Beth, at home, was told,
By Sergeant Gray, where he had died, and how;
On hearing this and that, her heart grew cold
And ceased its beating in the here and now.
Their children then became wards of the State:
Poor little Ben grew up to be no good,
And little Charlotte followed in his wake;
They joined a gang, and with that gang they stood
Before Judge Black, who thought they both should hang,
If hang he could, beside their nasty gang.

Fifth Avatar, Three

Oldham Manning,

Time Falls to Time

Time falls to time as sails in summer glide
Within the wind upon a mighty stream,
Or in the wind itself where sparrows hide
To reappear in some cold winter’s dream.
Time falls to time with spring and autumn done
When birth and dying float upon the bend
The world spins as it dies around its sun
In galaxies that eddy to their end.
So big and small, for everything that sails
And falls to time and spins as spins a top
Upon a table till its twirling fails
And falls to time as time in time will stop.
But out within the stream the sails still find
Their wind and twirl within some younger mind.

Trickster Steve

Steve knew himself to be so smart; he seized
His every thought, proclaimed its truth, the world
Could not be other than be rightly teased
When Stevie’s little judgments were unfurled.
"Oh look at me," he preened. "Today I’ll pounce
Upon some sacred cow with softy friends
Who’ll be so crushed by my cruel words; I’ll trounce
With that, or this and that, or odds and ends.
And they will scamper here and there for truth,
And they will check, recheck this fact and that,
And they will find naught here or there, forsooth,
For nothing’s there – I pulled it out my hat.
And while they mystify themselves with this,
I’m onto something else I’ll find amiss."

Cat Love

My little cat it caught its mouse that day
From where it hid from deep behind the door,
And, yes, with it my cat did sit and play
Until the mouse lay dead upon the floor.
I’d heard some cracks from where I’d sat and read,
And squeaky whimpers too had called in fear;
But cracks and whimpers couldn’t raise my head
From my good book until the end was clear.
“So now you’re done,” I said, “how it did flail
Upon the floor, and squeak, while crack-crack-crack,
You ate it all and left for me its tail
Which I accept; I’ll place it in this sack
That overflows with trophies of your love
Just right above the wings of that dead dove.”

Third Avatar, Three

Leda Lamour,
The Swan Princess

She rides their pony backwards, her eyes on
A present that dissolves and opens to
A crestallated castle where a swan
And princess live adorned in white and blue;
No dragons yet disturb their peace inside
These high bright fairy walls enrobed in cloud
Where ice-cream wishes will not be denied
And all her dreams of candy are allowed.
But, after, into this, came her fine prince –
He rode her way, and smiled a smile so sweet
That in no time she rode behind – now, since,
Her castle walls have been in fast retreat.
But, high before, her swan finds all her skies
And waits for her onetime adoring eyes.

Fifth Avatar, One and Two

Oldham Manning,
Sanguine

“Enough of what you want; it’s time for me
To roar and run upon the moon’s bright face
And fly away to constellations, free
Of mind and blood, yet full of gathering pace.”
“No, wait a little while, a moment more –
And in these dancing words, roar, run and fly
To all the stars that gather here, and soar
Past time’s bright start and in that moment die.”
“Why fly so high? See here, this bench and book
Or that bucolic walk through gathering green
Or that of snow – through chasing seasons, look
At colours wandered by but never seen.”
“My soul is young, though I am old; the way
Is both the morning of and end of day.”

There Still Is Time

There still is time; there still may be more time
To find our age and wisdom here within
This place, outside these walls – we still might climb
To freedom there, and though it’s late begin
Our run towards an ever opening day,
The morning wind and sun behind our track,
With western vistas welcoming our way –
To what? – We don’t know what. So we turn back.
There still is time – we know next morning will
Present itself with something more to be:
Some grace perhaps, a prize perhaps; the chill
Of night now warms to possibility.
For this we know: there still is time; we know
Some time remains – there still is time to go.