The Poetry of Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

A few years ago I wrote the following poem for an acquaintanceof mine who was bravely working her way through some difficult psychological problems.

Resolution

I am resigned, resolved, I say,

To lead my mind and never stray;

To think more clear, unswerving steer,

And make my dreams less far away.

I'll reason straight and ope the gate

That shows a road unbent by fate.

Integrity in me will bind

The mountain view I'm set to find.

It may be hard, it may be long,

But I choose life and I am strong.

To lead my mind and never stray,

I am resigned, resolved, I say.

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

When I went to high school in the early 60's my English class studied poetry for six weeks. Luckily we had some Poe (The Raven and Annabel Lee), because all the rest was unmusical negative modern stuff. We were expected to regard with awe Joyce Kilmer's insipid, self-abnegating "Trees". Some years later, with tree-loving environmentalists all over the news, while looking out a window into a side yard I noticed two trees leaning toward each other. Happy to have a chance to keep in step with the times, I wrote

The Love-Trees

I lean to the tree that is leaning to me;

We touch, and our branches twine.

Our budding-song grows stunning and strong;

Her flowers of love are mine.

Her "hands" so fair in my winding "hair"

Fill them with life and Spring.

The breeze in our branches dallies and dances;

The words of the birdies sing.

We sway together in Maytime weather;

We lighten the sky with flame.

In time with flowers we rhyme for hours,

Our rhythm of life the same.

We burst on the hills above the old chills;

We beckon with spangled arms.

To passion of men we fling out again

The pride of our peerless charms.

To lovers that grasp, oh! how we clasp!

Urging half kisses near.

To lips that decide, to triumph new-tried,

We puff out a pom-pom cheer!

The dance of the world in their whole arms curled,

The light, the height, and the way,

Swings hard to the earth to sweep the heart's worth

And moans with the music of May.

They live, they are one, they are free in the sun;

We_ stretch out our leaves and sigh.

The flowering stream of the whole world's dream

Sways in the brow-bowed sky!

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

Love may be vocally and physically expressed, or separate and soundless, as here:

Only Look

Soft-gray clouds lessening over hard-gray sea,

Partly pulled apart into pink and orange,

Slowly separating into peach and gold,

Lovelier than a May dawn's heart can be,

Above, and on the sea. Oh,

And the swell of the sea,

And the free-way-sailing open cries

Of the white-winged hailers of the waking skies,

Soaring around in felt-tipped height,

Around, dip, around, up, and far out wide around,

Till over the downs and down to the beach.

Not there, but here, is the feast I reach,

Back from the shore, through the grass and the flowers,

On a white table on a white-railed porch----

The shell that you found this last half hour,

Raised, smelled, looked at so curiously,

As if Pure Secret were therein bound.

And no, you did not listen, as others do,

But stood just still, a real picture of pausing sound.

Then smiling, you walked proudly away with your own thought.

I ask it not, only look at the shell

And smile, glad that it lay so well.

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

After watching the news tonight about religionist's attempts to intimidate teachers of evolution I wrote this:

The Creationist's Creed

There is no god found anywhere,

Or on the land or in the air,

Or back of stars or under sea;

But when imagination flies

(Inside my head---God's Paradise)

Then all the world is made by me.

For I am God, it's plain to see,

And what I wish, it must be true.

That's why Creation must be taught----

I wish, and what I wish is "ought";

And schools are made for wishes' brew----

From wish in me to wish in you.

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

It's raining too hard to take an enjoyable walk, so I'll post

Bells (after Poe)

The lightly touching tinkling bells,

Shimm'ring, babbling, laughing in the breeze,

The ever-merry tapping bells,

Who now has these?

Low, slow, iron bells;

Deep, still, lead bells;

Bells, bells, bells.

Bells. Bells. Bells.

All gladly-sounding glowing golden-bells,

Lilting, lighter, brighter yellow-bells,

Mightier-yellow-even-whiter-bells!

Ivory-keyed I concerto-bells!

Striding proudly in the breeze

I have these!

The bells of thoughts serenely dear,

Planning, looking, finding-----here!

The hand that reaches for the loved bell's face,

Then touches, almost, the perfect place.

Low, slow, iron bells;

Deep, still, lead bells;

Bells, bells, bells.

Bells. Bells. Bells.

All terrible-sad mad rebellious bells.

Brazed, swinging-fast Goliath bells!

Stronger, harder-hearted mountain-bells.

Caught! Smelted! Recast!

Now joyous-sounding royal loyal-bells,

Silver-lovely radiant treasure-bells,

Sure-as-morning's darling pleasure-bells,

Sledging! steady! ready! wedding bells! Bells!

All happy in the breeze,

We have these!

High, soft, snapdragon bells;

Kissed, whisp'ring, thoughtful body-bells,

"Bells, bells, bells".

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

Here is a poem which I wrote back in the early 80's. It's subtitle might be "Eden, Revisited".

Stand Straighter

Stand stranger, O Love, stand stranger,

Stand straighter, and lift up thine eyes.

The wings of the sun sweep about us----

We, the gift of the earth to the skies.

We have done what the god has forbidden----

We have leapt to the boughs of our tree.

Yea, now the danger of height be unhidden

We laugh with how easy we see.

Fear was God's name, and of olden

We bent for halt steps of his feet.

Now the dareways of life wave open

And faints in our ears his half beat.

He has crawled under dust at our leaping,

Lies blind in the dust, and is dead.

Brave Sight takes his place and, out-leafing,

Glances true My-space ahead.

Brave Sight, that is stronger than Heaven,

And purer than peace in a grave,

And though Joy's not yet wholly unladen,

We are free, and we are not slave.

Step up, make it real---your desire;

No low-quitting effort should hide.

Reach lips in the name of our fire

Not curses of Hell can divide.

We have life, O Love, we are mortal,

And our blossoms of right are in hand;

Mid haloing rings of embracement

Our time-taking souls command.

Come, let's foot off this little dim shadow,

There's a full glad world to view----

Smooth ways or stony to march in or seek in,

Strong ways and first ways and true.

Yes, this is the grace of OUR giving----

That in choosing we use what we are,

And the courage of thought undeceiving

Outleaps any error by far.

Up now, the mountains await us;

They list for the beat of our feet.

"We are coming, Beyond, we are coming;

Thine existence shall soon be complete.

"We are coming, far birds, we are coming;

Wing out thy songs upon air!

Forest and River, we thy meaning deliver;

For the plans of REAL makers prepare!

"O Earth, O Rich Matter, Sound Being,

On Thee we do set out to win,

Wit Inquisitive Eyes now all seeing

And Masterly Thought without sin."

Stand stranger, O Love, stand straighter,

Show proudly the lust of thine eyes;

The praise of the sun pours upon us----

We, the gift of the earth to the skies!

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

I chose not to write this poem, but it came out on its own:

Determination

I have not chosen to say

That I have no choice what I say;

And I have not chosen to post it

Or pick up my glass and toast it.

I'm a robot in all that I do,

A robot in all that I am,

Determined to sit with my brew

Remembering choice is a sham.

"The bar is closing at one."

Wait! Can't you see I'm not done?

My God! How can you so dare!?

You're not, evidently, fair!

"I have not chosen to meet

The seat of your pants with the street,

But it comes with a bit of a smile, oh;

A choiceless, choicy style, oh?"

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

Or one may dance in a more varied way:

Heavenly Earth

The glitt'ring hall is filling up with dancers spinning bright,

And one especially's cutting in who's very cool and light.

Steppin', movin', groovin' through, as smooth as butter sweet,

She's the one can melt my soul until I'm only heat.

Step down, move in, bump once and stay,

Oh now, oh now, the other way.

Earthy dancin', earth of mine,

Soul is free and body fine.

Talkin' happy, stalkin' light,

Life is good and I'm all right!

Steppin', movin', groovin' in,

As far as we can go,

We freeze and melt and freeze again,

Oh no, oh yes, oh no!

The gleaming old hall is a-filling all up with the dancers of feathery light,

And one is especially coming on in who is doing it, brewing it right.

And steppin' and movin' and groovin' on through to the rhythm of higher and low

She still is the one who can butter me better whenever and ever we go!

Step down, move in, bump once and git,

Oh now, oh now, we're doin' it;

Come back, reverse, swing all about

And up again and bump it out.

Step down, move in, bump once and stay,

Oh now, oh now, the other way!

Earthy dancin', earth of mine,

Soul is free and body fine;

Soul body free, soul body fine,

Soul body fine fine fine fine!

Steppin', movin', groovin' in,

As far as we can go,

We freeze and melt and freeze again,

Oh no, oh yes, oh no!

A flash-----a hall-----that's all!

Brian Faulkner

[AMERICONORMAN]

Brian:

Heavenly earth is nice to dance to. I would dance it like Merengue. It was very good except that I like Cumbia better because of the subtle twists possible, that could emphasize certain parts of the body, and the sporadic shooting of some limb that will seem like a sweet spark.

Americo.

P.S. If I could learn how to spin and twirl in Salsa with command, then I would probably like Salsa more. I like the possibility for the shaking of the chest.

[B. Royce]

As of yet, I have not written a poem for the Father of our country, that practical man of action, George Washington. However, about a dozen years ago, when wishing that I had another patriotic song to sing besides the Star-Spangled Banner, which had no religious ideas, I decided to revise "America" . Here's what I got:

America--------originally by Samuel F. Smith, revised by Brian Faulkner

My country, 'tis of thee,

Sweet land of liberty,

Of thee I sing.

Land where my Father's pride,

Unbound in open stride,

From every mountainside

Made freedom ring.

My sovereign country, thee,

Land of the noble free,

Thy name I love.

I love thy cities strong,

Bright strings of lights among;

High towers rise in silent song

Through clouds above.

Now music proves the soul

Of manhood's self-control----

His reason's might.

Now all our hearts abound,

Each one partakes the sound,

Stands rightfully upon the ground

With fearless sight.

My Father's life, to thee,

Rational Liberty,

To thee I sing.

Long shall my land be bright

With freedom's honest light;

I guard thee day and night

In everything.

[B. Royce]

When I lived in New York I loved riding the subway---the sound, the power, the unrelenting purpose, the joyous speed of the Lexington Ave. Express. That's living.

We Come To Work

The bright doors close.

We move; the station passes.

Now darkness swallows us

As we pour through it.

A yellow light------past!

Another light------past!-----past!

A flat white streak, and we don't stop,

We speed! faster, fiercer, driving!

And we are lovers lashed through wonder,

Joy's soul storming with purpose,

Ideas tracking dreams.

And hundreds, thousands, millions, going to work:

Bold-thinkers, old-thinkers, gold-thinkers,

All, pow'ring through the earth, shaking it.

And now slowing down

To stop at home.

The bright doors open,

Out steps the city's heart and mind and blood and guts and soul.

We are its seeds and wings, its sparks and words;

We dreamed it, built it, love it, worship it.

And now it smiles above us waiting its great parents----

Its masters, kings, angels, bosses, gods----

Its real women and its real men.

We come in steel bolts of lightning

And we bring the day!

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

Here's a poem I wrote a few years ago as a song sung to Beethoven's "Turkish March Into Athens".

Awake

The heavy trucks roll up the street

And I roll, too; I rise, I do;

I stand up on my own two feet.

I see the rolling might of dawn

Keep going going on and on,

And glad am I to be awake

And hear the city come to life.

Planning my day, I think of a way

To make my work much faster, better, richer,

And I come to the true and know what to do,

And off I'm gone to break through dawn,

Down to subway, up through town,

First elevator rising, rising, rising,

And,

I walk to my door and open it wide,

Slants in the sun to work at my side,

Far o'er the world I see every thing

Ready in light awakening,

See every way open and free,

Shining with joy to be.

Now focus in, get to your task,

There's very very much to do.

Make that call, that question ask,

Then tell them it is up to you.

Sell the goods just like you should

For profit, profit, profit;

Then buy the best and re-invest,

They're coming even more to you!

Write a report, regard every word,

Communicate right context, purpose, meaning,

Meaning

Right from the start and clear to the end

Say what you want and then never bend.

Wrong implications, they'll never do;

Master Of Logic----that must be you.

Sign that report and send it away,

Gold in your pocket, today!

Stand up, I do; stand up, I do;

I've done and won the very best.

I whistle, too; I whistle, too,

And give myself a music rest.

Sold the goods just like I should

For profit, profit, profit!

And now the men who want the best

Are coming more to me!

I gaze out my window, see what is mine,

Mine in the spirit, standing in line.

Stone had a master, steel had a will,

Struck them together, handles them still;

Gave them a purpose, drove them on high,

Filled them with meaning-----"Mine is the sky;

Rise up to me, I'm sure that you can;

Climb, and you'll be a man."

Now focus in, get to your task,

There's very very much to do.

Make that call, that question ask,

Then tell them it is up to you!

Brian Faulkner

[IDC]

Great poem.

I especially like this line: "And I come to the true and know what to do"

[B. Royce]

Great poem.

I especially like this line: "And I come to the true and know what to do"

Thanks

[B. Royce]

Here are a few poems for children:

Catch'm

Zip! goes the fly;

Zoom! goes the bee;

Up and down the butterfly

"You can't catch me!"

______________________

Sibs

I am the brother of her

And she is the sister of me;

Whenever we confer

We talk slowly.

We talk so..o sslow

Words b..arely g...o.

We can-not e-ven hear them s-t-o-.

And yet we do concur

That she is the sister of me

And I am the brother of her!

______________________________

Hum

Quietly, gently, grow all the flowers;

Snails snug under them in daylight hours.

Peacefully, sleepily, Night's robe spreads;

Now all the snails leave their beds.

Then comes the dew and the grass smells new;

Then come the snails to sip and view.

They see the whole garden, they like it fine,

And there's a mouse come out to dine!

And a passing airplane hums so low

The snails wonder, "Could we hum so?"

They try and they try, and they're almost done,

When suddenly, quickly, up leaps the sun!

As fast as they can they turn on their tails,

Sliding and gliding o'er very small dales.

Then over the hose and around the rocks,

Up to the back wall where nobody knocks.

Now deep in the shade they slow down to rest,

"Ah! so cool! For sleep it's best!"

Brightily, lightily, the sun's rays near,

To spang a leaf, or to point and cheer.

Quietly, gently, hum all the flowers,

Snails snug under them in daylight hours.

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

Another poem for children. Maybe you know a child who might like it.

The Best

We are happy to be happy,

For we do the best we can;

We are rolling through the prairies

Bringing loads of goods to man.

He is hungry, he is thirsty,

He would like a roof above;

He wants apples, he wants music,

He wants diamonds for his love.

He wants more than we should carry,

But we bring it just the same,

For we hope to live in future

As a sign of human fame.

We struggle up a mountaintop,

Push! Push! Grind the rail!

Hard now! Go as one! All you

Engines, drive! Don't fail!

See the rocks far down below us

Grinning greedily for our fall?

Hear the thunder right above us,

Throwing scorn upon us all?

We must drive a little harder,

We must strive until we win;

To do less would be dishonor,

To give up would be to sin."

Over mountains, through the forests,

'Cross the deserts cruel and dry,

We are rolling, we are rolling,

We are rolling rolling by!

Oh, we're happy to, be happy,

For we do the best we can;

And we love our happy purpose----

Bringing all his goods to man!

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

There is a bit of fiction mixed in the following poem, but it expresses the best feelings I've had when working in factories. In high school I received the lowest score in my class on a test for machanical ability. In one of my early factory jobs I set a record for production on the electronic seam machine. This was on the day after the foreman had told me to slow down, because I was making the other machine operators look bad, and the people down the line who supplied me with material were having to work too hard to keep up. We had a huge rush order, with a chance to win a big contract. My boss, Sel, worked sixteen hours a day and I wasn't going to let him down; besides, no one tells me to slow down. I got a lot of resentful stares and some veiled threats, but Sel got the contract.

Our Factory

We break the day by waking up our factory;

The cyclone parts, and are we ever glad to be.

So ring the bell, the better part of life is here,

The meaning, love, and joying of is very clear.

Giant shelves of steel gleam;

Stamp the presses, strong and grim;

Burnt oil smells, compressors hymn;

Our waking island's not a dream.

Tides of power rush on through:

Electric, steam, and gas and air;

Pipes and wires flexing here

For the hands of "I can do".

Competent, and with control,

O Perfect Product, be our goal.

Right Desire, never tire,

Climbing ever higher, higher!

Motors roar, conveyors fly,

Solid men are standing by;

Glance upon us, signaling----

Whip together, separate, one!

Turn that wheel, get up speed;

Focus sharp there, mark the need.

Full attention, guide it; get behind it, ride it!

Drive yourself efficiently!

Spinning rollers----vibes of steel----

All about me, good to feel;

Stainless panels----let 'em roll----

Stamp together! print in soul!

Edge to edge and side to side

All we make is endless pride;

Pride of Planner's, Thinker's "Go!

Sure I had it, now it's so!"

Yes, he had it, he was right,

Life is here in genius flight.

He took the earth, changed it, shaped, re-designed it,

Made the wants of body, mind.

Two-pound ovens, railroad cars,

Hand-held scopes for unknown stars,

Piano pedals, rud's for ships,

Nine-foot jets for "Be there!" trips.

Slanting down, soaring high,

Full conveyors hum on by.

Measuring, wrenching, tooling fast,

Man to man the job flies past.

One by one by one they come,

Silver chains and boxes flow,

Stop and twist and turn and stop,

One by one by one they go.

All these orders coming in,

Newer product's going to win.

Fill 'em, pack 'em, slap 'em down,

Count 'em up and wrap 'em 'round.

"Look out! Jam!"

Trouble now, but that's a "nought";

Cancel jam out with thought.

Step right to it, see the cause, undo it,

Then back on track to make up time.

Our fingers sweat and shine with life,

Our shirts and pants are sticking;

All in control of holy strife----

This city's heart is ticking.

Ten more pallets, that'll do;

One last order strides on through.

Comes in searching with numbers set,

Writes out tickets of no regret.

Ten one ton safes, all coal-mine black,

White gold inside, like this day;

A sacred life to keep intact

On a paper of That's My Way.

Then, one by one by one they come;

Hang the doors and close 'em----so!

Stop, and twist, and turn, and stop;

One by one by one they go.

All these orders going out,

Older products still have clout.

Take 'em, stack 'em, read their codes,

Strap 'em up and weight their loads.

Deed-rich towers, there they stand,

Angled "V" to cross the land.

From "My intent" of mind's invent

To complete perfection endlessly.

Loader! Forklift! over her!

Make it fast, haven't got all year!

Cold blades under, smooth and swift;

Now up, tilt back; oh, nifty lift!

Trucks are empty, feed 'em fast!

World's awaitin', waking, vast!

Houston, New York, Rome, Paris!

Forev' L.A. and young Boise!

Farmers, doctors, waiters, sec's,

Pert saleswomen and tall exec's.

And some one person in some one place

Is seeing the options of some one case.

"Ring!!!" Oh! It's over! Where did it go?

Did we have lunch? I can't remember. No?

Oh well, that was the bell.

Now to sweep, and clean up well.

Motors sigh, and rollers cease.

All is quietly at peace.

We off the lights and take last sight

Of tomorrow's ready-set might.

We end the day by closing up our factory.

We've earned a rest, and earned it ever happily.

The city lights are beaconing a welcome cheer,

The joy and love and meaning of is very clear.

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

I wrote this poem about twenty years ago.

How Rare A Lyre

Empty streets, empty days,

Year after year no word of praise.

Men called villains; women, too;

Year after year no dreams pursue.

Achievement past marked Selfish Greed,

Now no one dares one exulting deed.

Action's over, goals are dust;

No vital triumph, no joyous lust.

What? What?? What???

What alien sound is that?

How rare a lyre of human fire

I hear rise warm and clear.

From lost years' height new singing might

Fills abandons here.

"We are the light of heroes' sight----

This stone-cloaked steel and I.

Our tall proclaim: he bears our name

Who'd from himself not fly.'

Up glad'ning slope I stamp my hope,

Then top a hill to see----

A halo hair, a face taut-fair,

A form's dare harmony.

She stands alone by skyscrape stone,

Then scans it, proud and free.

Lines far beyond have but one dawn----

Her climbing self to see.

"I sang to man one creed, 'I can',

Though none came here long years.

I sing again, 'I can! I can!'

And you step near to hear.

"Your fearless gaze shows thought-filled ways,

Each step you take is great.

Your truth that wins be man's 'Can't sin,

Can only 'can't' abate.

"These temples won, their forms well done,

Each soaring man-love free,

If by life's rise you'd guide your eyes,

See them; but first, see me."

I name your name----Egoistian Flame----

And walk the high way to;

I brush the lyre of Midas-fire

And feed my lips with you.

One liquid breath, one gilding word,

I need not hear or guess;

Song's singeing blaze molds all its rays

To fill my mouth with----"Yes!"

Then up, alone, by aspiring stone,

Past death's humility,

It's you and I, and I and you,

And ledges edging free.

Now both your hands are bolt my hands,

And so our frames, enwound;

We feel Love's might inseal us, bright,

Who is our shrine profound.

We string the lyre, sweep breath entire,

Desire, chord in a kiss;

With lips our-curled we mine the world

All lines of "can" insist.

On tamed rock plane we lock in gain

Like granite-bursting wings;

And Passion gives, and Beauty lives,

And First Dream wakes and sings.

"Your lines are swept, their views I've kept,

I know the love of Time;

In Pride's high place see I my face,

Devoured of eyes that climb."

Our mouths are pure, rare lyres endure,

All towers cast up right;

High steps that dare, high scans "Up there!"

End first, right here, in light.

Mid dews soft-sewn on silvering stone

The heights of the world live;

And lays of youth, and the praise of truth,

My hands to your body give.

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

A poem for a child.

A is A

Square block on block

Stands tall, won't fall;

Round ball on ball

Won't stand at all.

Round ball rolls,

Or bounces by,

Or up into my cup so high.

Square block stops,

And stops,

And stops.

The ball was rolling fast

And hit another ball.

The other ball rolled past

And hit the wall.

The wall didn't fall,

Didn't turn,

Didn't move at all.

The wall, it not a roller is;

The ball, it is.

____________________

And one more to begin the day.

Will You Go Hugo? (Accenting Hugo on the first syllable)

WILL you go Hugo a-marching with me?

Will you go Hugo way down to the sea?

Over the hills we'll go into the sun

(Shining on flowers and kissing each one).

Into the wind we'll go singing so fair,

Skipping a song through the salt summer air!

Under the bridge we'll go hollering loud;

Hollering, hollering, hollering proud!

Down to the sand we'll go, down to the shore,

Down where the waves are a lion a-roar!

Over the hills and on down to the sea,

Will you go Hugo a-marching with me?

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

Some years ago while waiting for a long-distance phone call I wrote

The Call

From pole to pole

And pole to pole

Wires soar and sing and soar

Higher, lower, up and higher

(Wire wire wire wire),

Over mountains,

Under sun;

Cross a prairie

(Smoothly done),

Pole to pole

And pole to pole;

Sing! you wires,

Sing! and run

Higher, lower, up and higher

(Wire wire wire wire),

Over mountains,

Under sun;

Fly a valley

(Smoothly done!)

Pole to pole to pole to pole to pole.

Higher mountains,

Higher sun;

Pole to pole to pole to pole.

Final hill

Now begun;

Pole to pole

Pole to pole

(Wire wire wire)

Higher higher higher,

RING!

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

After a parting, the next morning, seeing a butterfly outside my window:

Gone By (1976)

Sweet little butterfly,

Blithely gone by,

I blow out a kiss for you

Following nigh.

Oh, catch, if you can,

This soul of a man,

To love and to keep it,

And fly fly fly.

______________________

And a year later,

Now

Waves waver in the turning tide;

Winds wind south, or north abide;

Stars fade out in the rising sun,

And time is over and just begun.

________________________________

After walking all day through rich farmland in Illinois and thinking of my new love, I wrote,

Old Song (1979)

No bells but cowbells

Clang in the glen;

Bird-song and maid-song

Sing without end.

Sunlight and dewlight

Quiver and shine;

No heart but your heart

Beats into mine.

______________________

Last year, after a fading romance,

Winter's Gone (2004)

Your kisses fell like rain on me

(Oh gentle storm, oh ecstacy!),

And I embraced and held you fast

To make our Winter last.

Yet wasn't Winter, no, was May

(Oh stormy May, oh wintry May!),

And oh the snowing, oh the blast!

Your kissings sweet amassed!

But now the sky's an awful blue,

And not one cloud re-hails my view.

I'd back turn time if I knew how,

And June make Winter, always, now!

And yet, if I have just one gain----

A mist of e-mail in place of rain----

I'll tell my fingers, "Type all this:

My soul's whole year is one Fall kiss".

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

After reading Shakespeare's sonnets I thought I'd write his 151st.

Oh, Winter (1975)

Before these heavy winds, outreaching Fate,

Drive underneath the sod each flowering tree;

Before this heartless hand, whose callous hate

Kills all things living that for loving plea;

Before dire Time, whose iron lungs deride

And desecrate, erode, and crush to dust

The swelling blossoms of the summer's pride,

My stricken tongue finds speech, and speak I must.

Though warm lands chill, and freeze and shrink, to know,

O Winter, know your huge and hurling ways,

In which thy fist, through veil of shifting snow,

Winds down the heartbeat of once-happy days,

This mine own rhyming heart, with Song for flame,

Burns breathing beauty through your ghostly frame!

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

After seeing a beautiful production of Shakespeare's "A Midsummer's Night's Dream" I tried writing a fairy poem.

No One (1976)

I am the fairy that leaps on the lawn;

I leap in the moon till the moon be gone.

I go in the glow at a pretty pace;

The dew o' the grass be a mirror-face.

My limbs are alight and my body sings;

My hands are as fleet as a sparrow's wings.

I'm here, now there, I cannot be caught!

If any be faster his name be nought.

But lighter and quicker, a flicker-----me!

And what is "I am" is never to see.

I step in the night when the good folk sleep;

The wings of a leap be the dreams they keep.

I trip to the "fa-la' that no one hears;

They waken, and oo! the dew-bright tears!

"Fa-la, fa-la, and fa-la" again;

Follow me, Fa-la, wakening men!

Now hush! Now still! The night's away!

In again, in again, night's away!

But I flick so quick I never be here;

Dawn again, dawn again, No One is here!

_____________________________________

Another poem of night.

Far-Off

How quietly the night goes gliding by;

How peacefully the might of it doth fill.

There's not a star up in the far dark sky

But fiery, gleams, and yet is calm and still.

An ocean of sweet grass flows around

The houses on the dimlit street. Some far-

Off bird cheeps, then goes to sleep. She found

In dreams, perhaps, some higher bird-like star

And waking, saw, but knew she dreamed too far.

Yet every height was in her leap-star sound.

I hold her voice; the daring of its bliss

Stirs through my spirit all that I have yearned

For in my blown-out past, and, as I will,

The inner wick of dream to flame is turned.

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

Sisyphus

He leans back upon a hill, laughing.

He was so fast.

Boulders lie shattered and broken all about.

________________________________________

Rest

Deep in the meadow, down

Under thick trees,

Slumbering summertime

Lies at ease.

Limbs of the shadows there

Stretch in the sun,

Languidly striving with

Sunrays spun.

Softer than silentness

Flowerbells ring;

Louder than puffballs

Not one thing.

Robin nor sparrow now

Chitter or peep;

Fast in the bushes

All things sleep.

Arrows of memory

Glide into peace;

Quietly, silently,

Sad things cease.

Light as a melody

Blown upon air,

Faint as a butterfly

(Oh, fly fair!),

Warm as the wind is

Over high grass,

Deep in serenity

All things pass.

_____________________

In Silence

In a shade of rest in a valley unknown of,

A lonely dell where no one calls,

A quiet depth, and little lighted,

Where no birds are, nor waterfalls;

Where Silence rules, and is king triumphant,

And winds bow down in lowly shame,

Walk I in peace in the early morning,

Walk I in gladness singing your name.

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce]

"Anthem" was my introduction to Ayn Rand. "I am, I think, I will" were the first great words of liberating joy I had read and spoken. Several years ago I wrote

To Ayn Rand

I love your heroic innocence.

No tragic sigh could shake

Your daring trumpet-mouth,

Nor one frail "I" hail you.

For joy of your Anthem's speech

I see rare glass within reach;

Beauty draws light from my being,

Light sight, sight right,

Till I see what I am seeing.

Your hymnal hath spoke me such worth

That my lips now say what they can:

I hear your dear voice spear the earth

And cloven in one is man.

____________________________________

Brian Faulkner