Green Book Of Meditations Volume 6 The Books of Songs - Student ...

By Michael April 6th, 1992
The Camel
The Camel sails upon the desert
It knows the way will be long & dry.
The Camel sails upon the desert
And only its rider can know why.
The Falcon soars with its outstretched wings
It feels the ebbs and puffs of the air.
The Falcon soars with its out-stretched wings
On it's destination does it care?
The Salmon leaps o'er the churning falls
Leaving the water it briefly flies.
The Salmon leaps o'er the churning falls
And reaching its birthplace, the fish dies.
By Michael April 6th, 1992
A boring biolab fieldtrip...
How much longer?
Smoke! Look, Smoke!
What type of fire is that?
Run to the cause.
Branches dodge me.
Emerge from the quiet woods.
Roaring frames before me
Rippling downwind.
One spark started it.
The spreading ring.
Inside, all is burnt.
The area of Change is thin.
Outside, all fear it.
The Change is painful.
That-which-changes
Can see but the pain.
Should I jump through,
Or let it catch me?
By Michael Nov. 22, 1992
The Prairie Fire
The Search
Do I aimlessly wander the silent hills?
Are my sylvan prayers better spent in church?
Can an Outsider cure the world's dark ills?
Will I ever find That for which I search?
By Michael
Sonnet 1: The Would-be Bard
My Muse, she gathers songs of man and elf,
The moving ballad with feuds and flowers.
Yet this is all to waste, just like my self,
if we can't write a song by our powers.
Knowledge, she knows what I attempt to say.
Skill, he molds out my dreams (time pays his hire.)
Wisdom, she pushes us onward when we tire.
With the, the mind of the wise bard can sing.
Och!, how I seek to obtain their prowess.
Fain that I were the master of one thing
Than the journeyman with twelve not of his!
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There's more value in my crafted object
Than the finest scale could ever detect.
By Michael Nov. 22, 1992
The White Jewel
Some mock my lovely jewel,
"She is merely a moon."
She can move seas... Can you?
Her light is scorned by lamps,
"I can turn them on or off!"
She leads women... Can you?
She always will return.
"She is in fixed orbit."
She's eternal... Are you?
By Michael April 8th, 1992
Sine Ceolbhinn
'Se Sine Ceolbhinn a tha an anam oirre!
Seinn i an amhrainn sean agus an amhrainn og!
Tha thu mor clarsach beag agus mo caraid fhior!
Tha mo gaol bog ort, an drasda gu siorraidh!
To Jean Sweetmusic
Jean Sweetmusic is the name that is upon she!
She sings the ancient songs and those that crawl on knees!
You are my little harp and my most loyal friend!
My soft love is on you now till the final end!
A Poem to my Harp
When we go to Eire what will it be like?
Will I explore on foot or ride on a bike?
Will I unpack you on a wind torn strand
To play for dancing spirits of that land?
Will the Quiet Ones come from hidden doors
To sit around us at Her heath'ry moors?
Will my chilled hands pluck random melodies
While the streams sing of lands with golden trees?
Will Night's chorus join us in a sad tune
With your strings backlit by a silv'ry moon?
Perhaps the Bardic Muse will whisper things
That reveal stories of lovers and of kings.
Let's go, good companion, maybe this year,
And see what wonders may to us appear.