Inner spring

‘Old man weeping’ from volume “82 prints engraved by F. Bartolozzi, etc, from the original drawings of Guercino, in the collection of His Majesty”

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I weep sometimes to see a shining golden dawn awed by the sheer wonder of it all,

thankful that the glorious hues I see lift me from the burdens of the day.

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I weep at the boundless energy and promise of the young on this amazing planet, terra firma, home of man,

with wonders past, present and still to come, beckoning the inquiring, adventurous schemers on.

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I weep at the strangers I have let pass by, for some I know I could have made my friends;

so busy I, so carefree or just unaware, of the human that waits behind that vacant, hungry stare.

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I weep angry, frustrated, by some politician’s glib outrageous lies, smiling, nodding, betraying promised election cries,

club members, secure now from their constituent’s plight, sit snugly ignoring what they were elected to put right.

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I weep at the passing of a treasured friend, diminished, shocked, bereaved by sudden loss,

knowing well the inevitabilities of life must come to all, and I wonder where, and when, and how I’ll hear my call.

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I weep that I’ve wasted so much of my life in useless wanderings just to pass the time,

there is so much I see now I’d still like to do, with body, mind and time still left for me to use.

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I am aware now that I contain some inner source, some secret well enabling me to weep,

reflecting that it’s given me for my use, I bless the healing tears that down my cheeks now creep.

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Without them what else could break the chain, releasing the soul-destroying burdens we contain,

thank God then for that hidden human inner spring permitting tears their healing balm to bring.

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Dennis Crompton © 1997

With these eyes I have seen

I have seen with these eyes

things to make me wonder, weep or cry;

been lifted up and cast down too

by the kaleidoscopic gamut

of happenings around.

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Seen troops of chattering children

free from classrooms’ confining walls,

learning as they strolled hand in hand

along widening enlightening roads.

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Frail elderlies too, sedate, composed

on their daily walk to town…when,

a sudden swirl of wheeling birds

brings them joy in the sunny air.

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From trailer hitched to back of truck

stare two soft eyes, lovely and brown

a patient cow from out of town…

now comes a fat and friendly Labrador,

his coat a glossy black

lightly trots his sniffing round

pink tongue peeps from smiling mouth.

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Be careful now!…he’s on the road,

inspecting something lying there;

hedgehog squashed, exposed, obscene

too late on snail patrol he’d seen

oncoming vehicle lights surprised

and just as suddenly, he died.

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Here comes a silent, sad-faced gentleman

hurting deeply at employment lost;

services no longer required; sorry,

must lay you off, says his younger efficient boss.

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There is beauty, wonder, sadness, love…

yes, all these things for me are free.

I can select, absorb, ignore or shut out,

the choice is mine, you see…

from my store of mind-pictures

sometimes deep emotions stir,

make me one with all mankind…

silent at night or away on my own

the call me from the library of my mind.

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Then warmed or weeping, bless the thought:

‘These things I’ve seen I can share with 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.

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Male and female came to be

dwellers outside eternity,

naked learned to cover up

hide the erotic bits of fluff.

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A given time to live a life,

man sets forth to seek a wife,

time to raise their progeny

then launch them their destiny.

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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.

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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.

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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)