FOUR EARLY POEMS

FREEDOM

Freedom,
If you wish to express it,
Lies in the mind of a child
---Just before you suppress it.

ENIGMA

Little bat,
You flutter from your cave
And perish, for lack of that
You crave.

UNTITLED COMPOSITION

How oft, in his Chilly Fright,
Has Man, known historically as None-Too-Bright,
Sallied forth at the Fall of Night,
His Way Illumined by a Dubious Light,
And, on Diaphanous Wings of Imaginary Flight,
Pursued, willingly nihilly, his self-made Plight?

NOCTURE

O Night!
The Lonely Pines in their Enchanted Spell,
Lift up their Branches to thy Sentinel,
The Moon.

A Sound:
A Fluttering among the Leaves, or an Owl
Swooping to seize a timorous Mouse, aprowl
Too soon.

A Cloud
Of Mist descends upon the Hill,
And stops, and rests, and hovers still,
Til Dawn.

A Shaft
Of the Sun pierces with its Grey Light
Into the Mist: The Magic of the Night
Is gone.

(Written between 1960-1962, last revision 21 August 2010)

Four Early Poems ©1960-2010 by John Halsey Flannery

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