Tag Archives: truth

Art May Dress An Ugly Thing In Clothes Of Beauty

Art may dress an ugly thing
In clothes of beauty
And make it sing
The sweetest song.

Is the artist’s duty
To truth and beauty?
Hate and lust
Are strong

The artist’s mind
Is full of thoughts of mortal dust,
And the reputation he will leave behind.

But some still choose truth
Though their roof
Cave in,
Under the weight, of their own sin.

The Poet’s Muse

The poet’s muse
Wears down at heel shoes
And sleeps
And weeps.
Yet, in his poem she is beauty personified
Who never cries.
And when she and the poet dies
She may live on
Through future ages,
Preserved midst the pages
Of some book.

Though she be gone
Readers will look
And see a perfect view
Where no muddy shoe
Was ever worn
And no heart
Was ever torn.
Or perhaps his art
Will be true
To his readers
And to his muse
In her muddy shoes.

If You Dare

If you dare
To say
(in the politest possible way)
That “the people in their judgement err”,
I swear
That the person of narrow mind
Will find
Some ugly word to throw at you.

“Fascist” or “elitist” they will cry.
I know that it is untrue,
But ’tis easier to lie
(Though inwardly you die),
Than to speak the truth
And have the roof
Come down on you,
For speaking what is true.

Birthday Balloons

Birthday balloons are here still
Though the cards are no longer on display.
How long will
Balloons stay
Held up by gas
Until, at last
They deflate, and sink to rest?

‘Tis best
To put them away.
Yet they
Remain on display
But the pretend
Will descend
One fine day.

The Mirror

“So many have I seen
Reflected in my blank screen.
My all seeing eye
Can not lie.

I see the face
Of every race
And class
Reflected in my empty glass
And how girls hide
The signs,
The lines
Of age.
Though with what lies inside
I can not engage”.

Eyes I Can Not See

Eyes I can not see
Look back at me.
A man can be
Without sight
Yet penetrate the darkest night
If he chooses.
But oft times he loses
Courage and says “let it be
For I do not wish to see
What has become of me”.

At other times he sighs
For his inner eyes
That within himself, which causes him to grieve.

I do not need to see your eyes
To know the lies
That hide behind
For I find
That mine
Are as thine.

A Man Is Many Things

A man is many things
To family, colleagues and friends.
Different he may be
In his relations with each, but he
The ends
He pursues.

Or perchance he does choose
To deny
What he is, even to himself
And will die
With a smile
Of denial
Upon his face
Expecting grace …


Who is the guilty one?
As the night went on
They both drank to excess.
Her dress
Was short
And her lipstick red, as the quilt On the bed,
when he brought her home

Did she say “no or yes”?
A short dress
Is not an invitation
And a man’s anticipation
Is no excuse
For abuse.

Friends saw her flirt,
But she lay inert
On the quilt.
Who wilt
Judge their guilt?