the sun
an infrequent friend
popping in
now and again

while welcome
stays on often far too long
yet we miss him dearly
the instant he is gone

the moon
more elusive in nature
a frequent guest all the same
makes less overture

a lady
whom lights up the night
a smile from whom
knights fight for luck and affection

dawn and dusk
the changing of the guard
the transformation twins
the love making balladeers

Change change

To wish for change is one thing
To manage it is another
To image it is tricky
To make it is a bother
To bring hope is hard
To promise wealth impossible
To break habit tiring
To start new almost a bore
To remain the same isn’t challenging
To go abroad can be a drain
To believe in one thing is uninspiring
To believe in everything will make you insane
To promise the world is foolish
To promise less is unfair
To make happen the impossible
To participate completely
Is altogether exhausting

For something of worth
Demands a price to pay
As luck would have it
The key to a lucky day

Pillory

fortunate we are
to live far enough away
from theatres of war or terrorism
indiscriminate acts of violence
more usually acts of nature
now acts of man or ideological self-destruction
this “eye for an eye” that makes us blind

bombing has no purpose but to destroy
synonymous with failure it gets smeared
with the blood of success
what a strange idea
better to send our hearts
on suicide missions of love or compassion
than desperate attempts for attention
made tragically into partners in crime

such acts of sorrow advertise fear
antiquity in an idea incapable of participation
destroying the moment to bring back the past
there is no future within this thought
today doesn’t matter and nor does life
they are only ironic commodities to trade
on a very gruesome stock exchange
no sense left in this age

civilisations seek new experience
an endless way to change
the world goes round
seizing days with passion
do we recognise our vulnerability
life isn’t rehearsed
we are invited to improvise
so as to avoid such deadly theatre
digging its own grave

the harder we resist change
the more likely it is to happen
if it wasn’t so hopelessly horrid
it would be simply ridiculous

just as we cry and grieve
we sense the joyless line of people
stretching back though time
a mockery of martyrs

unable now to appreciate today
or sense what’s been undone

© nic mepham 05 >> nic@artworks.fi <<