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Best Poems Written by Gray Maxwell

Below are the all-time best Gray Maxwell poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Gray Maxwell Poem

The Wastelands

The sun reached down
Almost as if to the ground
Bleaching the skulls and the bones

Wind rustled, rustled the ash
Gently kissing the faces of the dead
Parting with a sorrow it should be said

Nevermore would the faces rise
It was the end of earth
What touched the sky

Dauntless I set ‘cross the land
A grim determination set
Fractious in its demands

A final disposition partook me of my trust
As the bleached white skull
Transcended into dust

With malicious eye I watched it
Weary of such tricks fickle to my mind
Yet remaining vigilant for such a fix

Even as the sun fell
I watched it with vigil till the end
Even then I knew I had entered The Wastelands

The rain fell from the clouds 
Vapid as it flew against the sky
Wondering what art disposed it to take me by

And as the sun did rise
Bleating dauntless in the sky
I set ever onward

Doubtless ever onward
Dauntless ever onward
Staring vexed with oblivious eye

As a traveler I lay waste
Mournful for the wretched soul
Which had withered fair

Though I doubted 
At that forsaken stare
As I stood and watched it there

That bonded soul
Did the sun reach down upon
Bleached forever on the down

Did forever it sit upon lost ground
And as I passed
I could swear for stare

Swear I saw it watch me there

Details | Gray Maxwell Poem

Swan Song

I was sixteen when the finch stopped singing.
The sweet melody suddenly transformed 
as if it was cracked like a broken bell.
I couldn’t hear the sweet song anymore.

My father bottled my ink in dirty jars.
He locked my pens in the darkest corner
of the birch box cut from a tree outside.
Maybe it was where the bird sang to me

He told me to go outside like other boys.

But I didn’t seem to listen.
I could still hear a finch singing.

Details | Gray Maxwell Poem

The Traveler

I
Two paths diverged,
Or so they say
In a land to the east,
Far, far, away. 

Where children they laugh,
They dance and they shout
To welcome the traveler,
That has been about.

His boots are worn,
And his clothes are done
And on his left hip,
He carries a gun.

But what of the man, 
What does he say?
Do we know his pretenses,
Know of any his ways?

But no!
We do not,
How should one ask?
A worrisome thing. 
Would now come to pass. 

He is dirty and cold, 
Broken alone
And the rain has chilled him,
Right to the bone. 

He is more than a man,
For a man has a home
And the burden of hate,
For sin he hath grown. 

Nay, his burden is simpler,
Perhaps with a voice,
For all he must do,
Is make a choice.




        II
I spake at last ,
And asked his best,
To tell me perhaps,
How he came in this mess. 

He turned to me then,
With furrowing brows,
A dull in his eyes
And a cumbersome frown 

It was right then and there,
That I learned of his plans,
Of the choice in the roads 
At the cross of the land.

“Four roads twist before me,
He said, “four awry.
And all them I knew
They’d carry me by.

One broken, dishearted,
Which led to my love,
And another, in itself,
To the God that’s above.

The third was golden,
As some roads, they are
And led to a city
With riches afar.

And the last, well the last,
Well that one you know
That one led here
And it too I know.”


          III
I looked at him then
At his soft weathered eyes
And wondered what evil
Had taken him by

No sin that I knew
Could make a man so
And I couldn’t help ask him
How he was so.

“What is it my friend?
Let of off your load.
Is it such a bad thing
That you chose’ the wrong road?

He sat himself down
And began with a frown
That to which 
Was followed by a sound.

A sound that would form,
Form into words,
Words of great meaning,
That could not be curved.

“I know now.” He said. 
“That which prize I have won.
I have to be going
Before it is done.”

“But what do you mean?
What do you say?
Are you leaving my friend?
Gone on your way?”

“What I have wrought,
I justly deserve.
My choices they make me.
And my sentence is served.”

“But which road will you choose?
Where will you go?
Is it God that you seek?
Or maybe rich gold.

Or better yet,
 Could it be your love.
Your hearts great desire,
Sent from above.”

He turned to me quickly,
As he walked out the door.
He whispered gravely.

“My friend,
Your choices are yours.”

Details | Gray Maxwell Poem

The Final Disposition

I see the fields of ash
browned by the sun
the bodies laying in the field
but the war has not been won
my last gasp of air

I have clung to you
my salvation
for years and years
the darkness cannot spread I reason
it is almost here

I hear them calling now
“the war has just been won!” they say
a raw victory for my heart
the battle has just begun
on the horizon

The drumming of my heart
I call out in the rain
only one can hear
amidst the sounds of marching
the gates have opened…

Details | Gray Maxwell Poem

I Do Believe

I do believe. In everything you say
When times are better,
We’ll be together again.
After the war.

But until then:
You’d better run to me
Come to me,
I’m here with open arms

Waiting in darkness
 Till’ you come and set me free
Help me to just believe
In love.

Well, I do believe. In everything you say
When times are better 
We’ll be together again,
After the war.

But until then:
You’d better run to me
Come to me,
I’m here with open arms

Waiting in darkness
 Till’ you come and set me free
Help me to just believe

Help me to just believe
Oh I do believe.
Do believe,
In your love.

Details | Gray Maxwell Poem

Raw

It is a terrible thing, the reaper
Ugly, terrible, shapeless, and dumb
Smell the sweat and blood
On the ground thousands of graves
Feel a torrent of tears and taste the salt
All I feel is dread

It drinks the spirit and eats lives
Always take and never give
Scar the Earth
Leaders and politicians always have
The best intentions

What are we to do
Sit back and wait
Everyone must choose a side 
In the game, anyone can win
Everyone loses