A Kinder Bright: Poems of Praise and Remembrance
Jerry Fagnani
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2009 Jerry Fagnani
THE BREW
It is a dangerous card you play
To gain a peace that cannot stay
For what magic quiets this fear you feel
Or balms a wound that will not heal
But I sing with you this tortured song
And celebrate your open mind
And raise the right above the wrong
To gather in the wealth I find
And so I tilt my glass with you
To lift your damaged soul and grace
And accept the fleeting embrace of the brew
And the fleeing rapture of your face
I hope never to mourn your goodness lost
To the killing breath of lurking frost
And bid farewell to triump of the day
Remember it is a dangerous card you play
A SAD OCCASION
Let us not on this sad occasion dwell
On what he might have been
For he is gone and that is final
Don’t lift torches burning for over is his yearning
And ours has begun on this sad occasion
When the year turns over and the sun burns down the sky
He won’t be there to see it
Or see the spring’s fine sign
With no laughter in the meadow across the birches leaves will fall
Past strains of silence in the hall
And winter tears shall stain the snow
When he died amidst the roar of fury
And blood’s rhythm in the field
It ended what began in love
And now he’s gone to somewhere else
Dying for his crime which was to live
And how do we forgive ourselves
TIME
The tired year trods on
Past the seasons and the sky
And still we feel the surge of pain
And still we kneel and cry
Who now will foil the acts of fools
And who will clear our path
When they rage and shake their fists
And who will face their wrath
We’ll not hear that laugh
In bright of noontime sun
Or know the rush of glory
For decent pleasures won
We’re not to feel the gentle touch
Which assures against the crowd
For our hero’s gone to an endless time
Far from his wrapping shroud
RED HEADED WOMAN
Where is she
Laughing gentle coming down the hall
Sparkling eyes straight at us
With smiling thought in beaming day
And tender grasp in silent eve
Making real the dreams we weave
There she is
Wide stepping red headed woman
In gather of the tired spirit
Consigning fear to flight
And making clear the golden haze
Reclaiming wonder for our days