Selected Poems
Graveyard Poems Redux
Spells, spells, spells,
All crones lay diseased in one nation:
Bells,bells, bells,
Ring changes as their incantation.
Fair is foul and foul is fair,
This cry rang out in vap'rous air
As the bard perfected his dramatic emendation
Of tragic realm, now latest sensation.
What worthy thane pounds ponderous hellsgate,
That wakes the porter who keeps the fate
Of all Duncans and their endless wells
Which wakes Heccate's black spirit as she blithely tells
Of the hell-hounds' snatch of brindled cat's elation?
Knock, knock, knock
Out carousing til the second cock;
mock, mock, mock
your spirit, for ne'er can we to slumber rock
ourselves to keep us safe from hell's provocation.
P.S. 11/30/07
In Blackest Night
When Phoebus' last rays have gone to ground
And only night's deepest black is found,
'Tis the time for bitter tears to fall
As if drawn from her orbs by sorrow's call:
The cry that blots out all other light and sound.
Night's canapy is bereft of all but one star,
One solitary winking that calls from afar.
What is this one light, that alone doth remain,
Which yearns to keep darkness at bay, but in vain?
'Tis hope, that love alone, can cruel death's door bar.
P.S.
Six Feet Under Ground
At death we're laid six feet under ground
After life lived free, yet in fetters bound.
Our spirits, music much do move
As these few songs are bound to prove.
In each, a few small chords are found that placed in order form a ground
Bass and low, though they seem to be,
Each one hath power to set us free.
So listen, friends, and hearken to theses grounds
Bound to be found 'midst these burial mounds.
P.S.
A Cold Marble Tomb
I laid my dear love down in Earth's embrace
Where cold stone covered her small, sweet face,
But paltry earth could not her light conceal
And even the gods, in jealosy, still feel
The flower of her beauty, Venus's bain,
Who when she walked the earth, no man could fain
To wish her beside or astride him, and press
To his face one lock, one golden tress.
Oh Muse, my poor words do not confess
Well enough this world-ending pain.
If only I could join her in vaulted, warm womb
Enclosed and safe in cold marble tomb.
P.S.
Off With Her Head
Locked in the tower,
Her only friend the guard beyond the gate:
Bereft of power,
Who once commanded, now is forced to await
Her fatal hour,
In fearful contemplation of her fate.
The tears have ceased; her thoughts she seeks to bend
To the hope of the next world
At her life's end.
G.C.H.
Untitled
A life led too long, pain with no surcease,
At last, in my resting place, I find sweet peace.
The burning knot in which I was lifelong caught
Would tighten the more, the more that I fought
'Til with effortful silver, Death's bright scythe I bought.
Forever shall I lay in this comfortable berth,
'Neath flowers and worms in loamy, sweet earth.
Soon, now, will the keaning of Gods and men cease,
As I smile, having found my earthly release.
P.S.
Six Feet Under Ground II
We all must die, cold stone will mark
The resting place of those beneath the ground.
And by these tombstones, still and stark,
We dare to let the harmonies resound
Of ancient music: come and hark
Unto these plaintive descants on a ground
The first is light and gay, a spark
Of hope and joy, against the doleful sound
Of lovers' plaint, and accent dark,
The grieving ground of Cupid's fateful wound.
We'll play our music in this hallowe'd hall;
May it bring peace and hope to one and all.
G.C.H. and P.S.
From The Crypt
Two sides there are to life upon this Earth,
One light and gay, the other dark and dour.
We light a candle, a shadow leaps forth
To cast its shade upon our lightest hour.
This life's a march towards Death, e'n from our birth
Our resting place in grave or crypt or tower:
Come, listen to our music's darksome worth,
And celebrate the shadow's awesome power;
Priests, prostitutes, and pallbearers know this well:
There would not be a heaven without a hell.
G.C.H. and P.S.
The Little Death
There's another death for man and womankind,
A fainting delight we always love to find; at least for most of us, and most of the time
Like finding gold in a copper mine.
Some like to wait for the bright, new hunter's moon, for others, this death can never come to soon.
So let us die together, be merciful, not slow;
That when it's time for parting, I come before I go.