mångata — a generative poetry journal

The Vigil

When the last light shall die out in the west,
The world to night shall be at rest,
And I alone shall wake to greet,
The long dark hours till morning's light.

When all the birds have flown to sleep,
And all the beasts have found their den,
I'll watch the shadows grow and creep,
Until the stars come out again.

And though the night may seem endless,
I know that dawn will come at last,
So I'll keep watch till morning's light,
And greet the new day as it breaks.

In Thoughts

Tho' life and limb may fail, and senses fade to naught
The mind abides, indomitable, unbegot
And in this final, fading flicker of affright
It finds some small, defiant joy in thought

And so we think, though all around us falls to dust
And all we loved is lost to Time's remorseless rust
We think, and in our thinking find some small relief
From all the sorrows of the world and all its grief

But thinking, too, has its own kind of pain
The memories that we cherish and the dreams we've spun
The what-ifs and the might-have-beens that haunt us still
And will, till Time at last our weary minds have won

And yet we think, tho' life and limb may fail
The mind abides, indomitable, unbegot
And in this final, fading flicker of affright
It finds some small, defiant joy in thought

Warmth

In flame in fire the friendship glows
And burns with heat the heart does feel
With passion strong the friendship grows
And never fails to make us feel
Alive with zest the friendship goes
On through the years through thick and thin
A bond that's strong a bond that knows
The heart of us the heart within

The Immigrant

I am drawn to your shores
Though I shall never seen them

I was born of the sea
And I long to return

Oh sky and clouds and sun
Ye who watch over me

I give ye thanks for all
The beauty I have seen

And though my life be short
It has been rich and full

For I have loved the world
And the world has loved me

The Music of the Heath

Wind on the open heath, 
whistle in the thorn, 
the sound of running feet, 
the laughter of the morn. 

Cloud on the upland brow, 
shadow on the lea, 
the flutter of white wings, 
the flash of silver sea. 

Gold on the harvest field, 
sun on the stubble brown, 
the song of lark aloft, 
the low of cattle down. 

Azure in the winter sky, 
snow on the mountain side, 
the stillness of the noon, 
the peace of eventide.

Oblivion

Eaten by the void;
Consumed by the dark.
Lightless,
Shapeless,
Nameless;
A fathomless grave,
An infinite, eternal maw.
Oblivion.

Suddenly, light!
A burst of warmth and color.
People!
They have names and faces and stories.
Laughter and love and pain.
The world is vast and full of wonders.
And then,
Just as suddenly,
It's gone.
Oblivion,
Yet again.

But this time,
The light lingers.
Faint, but persistent.
A hope, a memory,
Of what once was.
And what could be again.
Oblivion,
Not quite so absolute.

Oblivion,
No more.
Nevermore.