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Best William Masonis Poems

Below are the all-time best William Masonis poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | William Masonis Poem

My Bed's Just Here For The Cat

Fatcat,
Hairy nuisance
Sprawling over bedsheets
Crowding limited sleepspace with
Blubber.


Details | William Masonis Poem

My Little Bulldog

No challenge stops her
    stance is set
       shoulders squared

                                  She needs no reassurance
                                  no protective arm

What she wants
    is what she wills
     she harbors no illusions

                                   No man will tell her
                                   what to do

She has lain out
   her own way
     and swept it clean

                                   No distraction is allowed
                                   to interfere

Her goals are set
   and bannered, waiting
     for distant days

                                     She will claim them all
                                     in triumph, never doubting

Small of stature
   great of heart
     she turns to face the wind

                                      Gentle as a running stream
                                      Unyielding as a diamond

She acknowledges 
   the difficulties
    then passes through

                                        No lie accepted
                                        no truth denied

She scans the road ahead
   weighs its options
     gaze sure and steady

                                         Fears are felt
                                         then disregarded

She does not move back
   she sets her grip upon
     each thing she wants

                                          Her goals must surrender
                                          to her determination

A child in years
   an elder's wisdom
     sits upon her brow

                                          Discouragements will bring no change
                                          a mountain of resolve

Seasons change
   worlds revolve
     she sees it through

                                          The end in sight
                                          stays in sight

Such nobilities
   within my child
     humble me

                                          Her father frets for her
                                          but can never fear

This is my little bulldog
   holding the world 
     by its pantleg

                                            Naught that she needs escapes her
                                            what kind of fool would try


Details | William Masonis Poem

Novembersummer

Midfall and nearly all the trees
Stand brown as broken sticks
Against a sky of impossible blue
And I in shirtsleeves a-walking go,
With love and longings my companions
Kicking through the drifts of colored shards
Fallen with another Summer's stealthy fading
Feeling and marveling at this piece of heat
That dropped unnoticed from her pocket.

I could believe today
In an America unnamed,
A place full of wild things and untamed peoples
A place where Spirit spreads
To ride the clouds
And sing its songs unhindered.

Nature has let down her locks today;
And who will look on her
And let themselves be consumed, entranced
By the beauty that lives on in spite of our assaults -
Who will be distracted by the miracles we move through,
Feel the surge of the sea of life all around us,
Hear the whispered prayers
In the windsigh of the sleeping trees
And watch the night come on
Announced by the rose glow behind the thumbnail moon -
Who will stand amid such things,
And not put aside for the moment
Those little cares we circumscribe our lives with,
And stand amazed to be here breathing,
Alive to feel how loving-close
Infinity holds us and claims us for its own;
Surely, not I alone.

I rest a hand on my sleeping child's chest;
Feel the heart fluttering beneath the skin
And I can sense a great wheel turning.

I wander out in the still warm darkness 
That follows this day,
To look up at the starstrewn sky
And see that great wheel begin its turning,
And stand amazed to be here breathing.

And stand, amazed to be.


Details | William Masonis Poem

Some Old Style Verse for a New Frame of Mind

The Middle Time is now upon me,
And the tune to which I dance is somewhat thin;
A ghost remembrance of that cacaphonous din
To which my steps were measured in my youth.
I know there lies now less before 
Than all those days that lay within
The sepulchure of careless memory passed,
And I apprehend the sometime bitter truth
That evil days approach my door
When much of what I've come to love will bid its leave
And I be forced to gaze aghast
At sights my eyes would fain not see,
When I to faithful hope must cleave.

And yet, what better time than this, the high point of the feast?
That Jester, Youth, has left the table
Leaving us the better able
To speak of things which more befit the greyed brow,
Matters weighty and sublime
Which better suit our natures now, though perhaps in tone more sable
Than such issues as delight the Fool,
And content the simpleminded sow -
Let us worthily pass the time
To Banquet's End, in company merry and refined,
Reviewing all we gained in Life's long school -
Establish what we value most and least,
Then say we fed our souls while yet we dined.

O grieve not that thy step be not so quick nor light
As was it's wont to be in bygone days,
Nor pine for carefree, childish ways -
They had their time, and sweet they were,
But now thou hast a surer, measured step
And the nobler thought is the one which stays,
And Youth for all its joyful folly
Is not a state forever to prefer
To a mind and manner better kept
From fancies and seductions strange;
Who but a Fool would be forever jolly
And deny his Midlife's further sight,
It's deeper view, it's wider range?


Details | William Masonis Poem

Inside Job

Building castles in the air,
Gold and diamonds everywhere;
You were the brightest stars in your own skies

In empty space you built your dreams
Behind  computer screens
You rode in long expensive cars
 Drank in all the trendy bars
As all the while you lied and bet
Against the ones who'd hoped to get
Some small piece of our communal pie;
They bought your homes and with them bought the lie.

     It was all an inside job
     Pulled by a faceless mob
     Of bankers, lawyers and their ilk.
     It was all an inside job
     By a thoughtless, greedy mob
     Of men who rob the poor to sleep on silk.

Smoking candles, fallen flowers
Foreclosed homes and broken hours -
This is the aftermath of what you've done,
Games ill played and  ill begun.

And the rich keep getting richer
Though they've painted us the picture
Of what happenswhen you set the weasels free.
They've no concern for you or me
Or the discrepancies we see;
Should be enough for us that they should always be.
No one's punished ,no one pays,
And they remain, complacent in their ways.

     It was all an inside job
     Staged by the untouched mob
     Of bankers, lawyers and their ilk.
     It was all an inside job
     Perpetrated by the mob
     Of men who rob the poor to sleep on silk.

And now this evil season
Has descended without reason
And the sheep will stand and wait
To receive their unearned fate.

I hope you're proud, you sleep at night
While masses live by candlelight
May your riches find you lone and cold
When you at last are frail and old
And no one mourns your passing days
And none thought loyal will stay
To watch with you all through the coming gloom
That pushes you, now helpless, to your tomb.

Castle building in the air
Gold and diamonds everywhere;
The brightest stars will dim away
Replaced by others, other days.

     And so it goes, the inside job
     Brought off by the blacksuited mob
     The bankers, lawyers and their ilk.
     The framers of the inside job
     That heartless, faithless, grasping mob
     Will one day drown, beneath a sea of silk.


Details | William Masonis Poem

Bravery Is All There Is

When darkness falls and finds us all alone,
When the heart becomes a small grey stone ...
     Bravery is all there is.

When thunder shakes the windowpanes,
When those we love lie wracked with pain ...
     Bravery is all there is.

Bravery concedes its fear;
Does not attempt to hide its tears.
Bravery is born of holding calm,
In quietly, doggedly, carrying on.

When reason fails to light the dark,
When the answer is a question mark ...
     Bravery is all there is.

When justice seeks to rule in vain,
When sorrow sweeps the roiling brain ...
     Bravery is all there is.

Bravery trembles while it stands,
Accepts what it cannot command.
Bravery bears its burdens well,
Looks not to see if others tell.

     Be brave then, Mystery asks of us;
     Face the unknown with silent trust -
     For at the End, there is only this:
     Bravery is all there is.
     Bravery is all there is.


Details | William Masonis Poem

My Father's Face

From somewhere far beneath,
My father's face is rising to replace my own.
Each year the brightly silvered surface of my mirror
Reveals some other common feature
Pushing its way to the fore.

The silver of the years finds its way
Into the hair retreating at the same rate;
Years marching forward as the hairline marches back
In lockstep time. What's left shines
With the wintry distinction of age.

Whose eyes are these that now look out
From beneath my brow? Are these the eyes that watched my child in sleep,
Or now those elder eyes that watched over me so long ago?
And what self is that at rest behind my silvered temples,
That rests its thoughts so heavy on these things?

Photos of the two of us together
Show the kinship of expression
The matching etchings of experience
That leave no doubt
As to the common blood by which we're bound.

I can no longer view myself
Without his prescence being there as well;
Moreover, the image of his father
Shows the like upwellings in him.

The visage of the man who came before
The three of us I've never seen;
But I deem it probable there was little difference,
And so back this face we share may go, ad infinitum.

Every face is a story
Of the life and its ways that shaped it.
This being so, I cannot help but feel ennobled
By the lines and lessons which have been passed to me.
This is the face I shall carry
From now to the end of my days.

My I tend it, and wear it, well.


Details | William Masonis Poem

Paying For Lies With Lives

"Sing to me, Muse, of the wrath of Achilles." - Iliad, Line 1

Western dreams were born in wrath,
Overmastering all the noble aims of reason.
The bloom of youth, cut from its proper path,
Fallen wasted in full season
Torn and silent upon fields of fire,
Betrayed by elder men's desire
To force their goals on one another,
Stolen from each grieving Mother
Against the tides of pain each strives
His misery to quench, his hate to smother
As they pay for lies with lives.

Home and hearth abandoned for ambition,
The promise of tomorrow dies on foreign shores
For shadows' sake they are cast to perdition,
To drown in the shifting seas of wars.
The Enemy as confused as they,
Affrighted and divided by the fray,
Consumed by fear in the battle's heat
The dead lie dead, come victory or defeat.
The living, stung by memories' knives,
Against which they in vain entreat,
Go on to pay for lies with lives.

The world turns on as the game is played,
Each dawn finds men so much the same.
The debts accrue, are bourne and paid
Each seeking honor for his name,
And a home secure in peace.
Yet men move other men, and will not cease
To bind them to some formless claim or cause,
To bid them die to right the flaws
Perceived in others of like kind; their wives
Bide in fear and live by tyrants'  laws
As they pay for lies with lives.

Noctambulate, the pawns of powers fight,
For cause of country weakly understood;
They move from day to death's eternal night
Directed by the wills of men of wood.
When all has ended, what has been acheived?
What meaning comforts myriads bereived?
The world will turn, and others rise
To fill the void, the numb surprise
Of lives unlived, of weeping eyes,
Of silence heavy with unanswered sighs
For those who paid for lies with lives.

Must so many lines of history
Be so far writ in blood,
So tainted with tragic mystery
Trammeled by iron stained with mud,
Its pages overrun with acts untamed,
Acts of slaughter by the vast unnamed?
So many deeds set down in red
Give cause to rest uneasy in our beds.
Though the past recedes, the present shall reprise
The accusatory march of the silent dead,
Parading those who paid for lies with lives.

Who dares leave our collective guilt unclaimed?
Were not our many wars for subtle reasons framed
By minds fit for much finer uses,
By hearts that might have scorned such abuses
Leading to this madness - who denies
Those self-delusions that should leave us shamed,
That make us pay for lies with lives?


Details | William Masonis Poem

As Raindrops Fall

Walk with me my Love
Beneath the summer sun
And talk with me my Love
Until the evening's done.

Stay with me my Love
Though all my youth be fled
Stay with me my Love
Please come and share my bed.

     With you alone I chose to spend my life
     Through all its many years.
      'Tis you alone I'd have for wife
     To share its joys and tears.

Let's call a spade a spade
All cards upon the table.
Live by the rules we made
The best that we are able.

     Tomorrow's sun may bring Anything
      Or perhaps nothing at all.
      Listen close enough and angels sing
      As summer raindrops fall.

Laugh with me my Love
Stars shining on your face.
Dance with me my Love
Within the night's embrace.

     A raven sits in yon withered tree
     Shall we stop to hear him croak?
     What of him to you or me
     Tomorrow is yet smoke.

Dream with me my Love
In the fading morning's dark.
Scheme with me my Love
In time we'll make our mark.

         The bells within the chapel ring
         Read words writ on a wall.
         Snowgeese gather on the wing
         As the winter raindrops fall.


Play with me my Love
Singing in the rain.
Smile with me my Love
Begone all present pain.

Live with me my Love
Until we both grow old.
Sleep with me my Love
My shelter from the cold.

     I'm all right now what I might be
     With your love in my defense.
     We face a thousand mysteries
     This life makes little sense.

      We face what ere the future brings
       As we heed the Siren's call.
      Touch the clouds and angels sing
      As summer raindrops fall.


Details | William Masonis Poem

That Slow Green Burn

Fire at the edge of the world.
Eyes deep within the shoreless forest sea,
Witnesses of the most ancient ways
Watch smoke rising from the approaching front
Of treeless, naked land
Stripped bare by blind ambition,
Quietly await the end.

Five thousand acres a day
The last great garden drifts into the skies
To join the circling storms that once nourished it.

The fires lick and crawl their way
Into its green heart.

Fire is eating the soul of the world
Reducing the face of its childhood to ash;
- Behold here the sorrow of Eden's last relic
Becoming the charnel-house of Creation.


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