Borrowed

'Borrowed plumes' Harrison Weir's illustration of The Vain Jackdaw, 1881

Everything I have is borrowed

nothing tangible is really mine

from the air I breathe

to the body I wear

all has come from elsewhere in time.

*

I may live my life 'til I'm ninety

lesser or longer maybe

but whatever I touch

and whatever I gain

has been borrowed for my moment in time.

*

At birth I borrowed my parents

to give me the body you see

from the earth around

with its vast abounds

I still borrow the food that I eat.

*

The place where I live

and the tools I use

all borrowed from some other place

and the questions I ask

as I come to this view

is from whom have I borrowed my soul?

*

Dennis Crompton © 1995

Once

Once, I was a small boy

untried, weak, unknowing

with so many possibilities

and time passed slowly

hardly aware was I

that I was growing.

*

Once, I was an older boy

taller, stronger, impatient

knowledge seemed so slow in coming

sometimes I thought I knew

and I hardly knew

what I was knowing.

*

Once, I was an adolescent

on the threshold wanting to leave

feeling I shouldn't

knowing too I couldn't stay

some wiser one outside myself

understanding, pointed me

and I hardly knew

that I was leaving.

*

Once, I set out for a place far off

was welcomed on arriving

from those encouragements I drew

learning, growing and fulfilling

a time of satisfying enrichment found

and I hardly knew

that I was still growing.

*

Now, I'm older and somewhat wiser

more round and more self-assured

paths trod and things accomplished

thankful now for what I know

yet wondering...

where I've still to go

what I've still to know

why I needs must know...

*

Dennis Crompton © 1996

Time to return?

Is it too soon to say that I am ready now,

fold me back into the great mother womb

from which I was expelled,

a human time traveller, not consulted,

on planet earth dwell?

 *

Have I run the gamut,

passed the required tests?

Experienced to the fullest,

all conditions set?

 *

It's true and freely I admit...

I've been so afraid at times

of making just the same mistakes

I've seen on every side.

 *

Some were members of a team,

played each game as it came...

I was drawn to other things,

and so they called me names.

 *

It made me weep each time I saw

my fellow humans suffer...

Others laughed and jeered again,

how could they be so blind?

 *

In many ways I quickly found

I wasn't hard enough...

Men were to be as hard as nails,

and made of better stuff.

 *

Yet I have learned and know it’s true

for each person I have met,

beneath each tough exterior

there's a human heart to touch.

 *

Am I ready now to close the door

on all I think I've been through...?

For now I ask, 'If it's the end,

where will I return to?’

 *

Dennis Crompton © 2013

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

Will the way ahead be clear?

When the tombstones of the warlords

have crumbled into dust;

when the armouries and assembly lines

cease manufacturing the guns;

when servicemen and women

refuse to hear the call;

and the ordinary citizen

universally says, No!

Then, when the dogs of war are leashed

will the way ahead be clear?

 *

When the common and the everyday

are seen as part of our creation;

when the eye of every human

looks on his neighbour as companion;

when all the hurt that ever was

has lost its bitterness;

when, I’m sorry, and, I love you,

contain no other meaning.

Then, when we’ve learned to think of others 

will the way ahead be clear?

 *

When shouting for our rights

balances with our responsibilities;

when those who do the manual work

are recognised for what they’re worth;

when elected representatives

seek honestly to govern;

when mankind learns to live with nature

and stops poisoning the planet.

Then, with standards all acknowledge

will the way ahead be clear?

 *

When we join the great departed

and time for us has ceased;

will we leave some good behind us,

folks be grateful that we’d lived;

how will the personal record look

as the score is totalled up;

will the watchers hide their faces

as our book of life is shut?

Will everything be clear at last

as to the reason we have lived?

 *

Dennis Crompton © 1994

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

Contemplations

I wonder by what decree this life of mine began

apart from loving parents and procreation’s plan;

each gave to the foundation of the place wherein I dwell

but, from whence came, I, occupant spirit that abides?

 *

One main question ever smoulders in my mind:

is there a point perchance to our sublime design?

A little lower than the angels mankind is said to be

I ask the question of such a mystery.

 *

Humanity can rise to such lofty heights,

compose great music, create splendorous works of art;

yet inbuilt flaws will plunge mankind at times

to iniquitous depths, even to annihilating our own kind.

*

Since grains of sand turn back the ocean’s might,

and oil and water naturally do not mix;

could not some slight correction of design

endow us humans with some similar balancing line?

 *

Even as I pose such controversial thoughts,

insight informs me that just cannot be…

to rob us humans of free will’s choice

would make us puppet-like, manipulated things.

 *

There has to be a loftier plane, I muse,

a quest worldwide that all humanity can pursue;

some inner message confirms this could be true

as each day passes and I reach out to you.

*

Dennis Crompton © 1995

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

Things unspoken...

Long ago in distant past

Big Bang theory or some Divine plan,

‘midst swirling dust plus cosmic radiation

began the continuum of exploration.

*

Male and female came to be

dwellers outside eternity,

naked learned to cover up

hide the erotic bits of fluff.

*

A given time to live a life,

man sets forth to seek a wife,

time to raise their progeny

then launch them their destiny.

*

Learning, I find on looking back

depends on background and on stock,

these and other abstract things

partly interact on me;

shaped my thoughts and actions so

but must not rock the blasted boat.

*

I’m a man but must not show

when my feelings are hurting so…

Set out to find the real me

why my true feelings I disguise;

how to be father and husband too

provide and protect all that is mine;

be a man and not a child

pretend I’m brave when I want to cry.

*

At last I discover my human clay

holds basic rights to have my say…

so I make my personal plea

since I’ve not sought to make me, thee;

for God’s sake leave me, let me be…

all that I was meant to be!

*

Dennis Crompton © 1995

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)