Othello, A Poem Concerning.
A noble Moor, a fighter brave,
he stands proudly in their sight.
Venetian lands he strives to save
as he ventures in the night.
He stands proudly in their sight,
inspiring in his soldiers awe.
As he ventures in the night
he reveals his fatal flaw.
Inspiring in his soldiers awe,
he still is to their plottings prone.
He reveals his fatal flaw
as seeds of jealousy are sown.
He still is to their plottings prone
when to an "honest" friend he goes.
As seeds of jealousy are sown,
naught of treachery he knows.
When to an "honest" friend he goes,
of wife's unfaithfulness he learns.
Naught of treachery he knows;
his heart with indignation burns.
Of wife's unfaithfulness he learns
with proofs provided by his friend.
His heart with indignation burns;
he vows soon her life to end.
With proofs provided by his friend
he confronts his loving wife.
He vows soon her life to end;
she fears for that very life.
He confronts his loving wife
by false accusations led.
She fears for that very life--
now he looks upon her dead.
By false accusations led,
soon he finds this is the case.
Now he looks upon her dead,
but the deed he can't erase.
Soon he finds this is the case--
what restitution can he make?--
but the deed he can't erase,
and so his own cursed life he'll take.
What restitution can he make?
It makes no difference, and he knows,
and so his own cursed life he'll take--
the tragedy comes to a close.
(January 1987)
Lonesome Row (Revisited)
In Lonesome Row the paving stones
are growing cold
and all the children who lived there
are growing old.
In Lonesome Row nobody sees;
the dreamer dies,
and in the row nobody cares,
nobody cries.
But in the row one day I'll go
and make my home,
and there will stay, will settle down
no more to roam,
and wait and welcome all who come
and are alone.
(February 1987)
A Lullaby for Lila
What is it that you wish to see?
Imagine it and it will be.
Big or little, rich or poor,
all the world's your candy store.
So close your eyes and close them tight,
and dream of pleasant things tonight.
No vicious dogs will bark at you.
No, nothing bad will come in view.
The moon has risen overhead,
and you lie sound asleep in bed.
I wonder what sweet dreams you dream,
what vivid visions fill your head.
Perhaps you're high up in a tower,
with a necklace made of flowers,
waiting for your prince to come
and take you to the setting sun.
But then, I might have things all wrong--
you could be dreaming of a song
that's being played upon a flute
or something equally as beautiful.
In a field of grass in June,
you listen to its wondrous tune
and wonder if it all will last,
if the summertime must pass.
Or, maybe, sailing on the sea
is your idea of being free--
drifting slowly 'neath the stars
whose light shines down so tenderly.
Soon, in some far distant land
you'll find yourself upon the sand,
where you shall build a castle fine--
a mighty fortress you'll design.
And there you'll find a place of rest
and thoughts will fade to nothingness.
And you will have a place to dream
of princes, ships, or anything.
So in the night, the stars shine bright
above the houses and the trees.
So close your eyes and close them tight,
and dream a happy dream for me.
(March 1987)