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POEMS

by J.A.Bosworth

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ORPHAN -

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            ANIMA POETICA


          What use has poetry? Some people say
         It  is  a  means  to transcendental Truth,
         Through inspirational experience;
         Its insights into pleasure and dismay
         Are keys to unlock life's lost relevance.

          Others aver its purpose is TO BE,
         No more; no message, no significance,
         No form, no meaning, nothing but itself.
         Such say it owns no useful influence
         On ethics, blurs the logic of clear minds.

          These latter right, how poor futurity;
         Devoid of consolation, without hope
         That present cares may play preparatory rôles
         For those who dare to say: "We humans DO have souls!"

                       ATLAS and HERAKLES


           Atlas, who on his brawny shoulders bore
         The Old World of supreme mythology,
         Waited impatiently for Herakles
           To take his burden, as the gods decreed.

           Those gods looked down from their Olympian height
         To mock the puny Hero's hopeless task;
         No mortal could sustain, for long, that sphere
           Built as bright bauble for divine delight!

           When Herakles, obsessed, came as foretold
         To lift the onus of his destiny,
         That World was his to hold and his to use
           How he would choose!
                                       Too late the startled gods,
           Alarmed at human wit and ingenuity,
           Attempted to restore the status quo ante!

                                       J.A.Bosworth
 
  

                             NO NEED


         To those who would maintain: "There is no God",
       I'm strongly tempted to exclaim: "You sod
       Off!" But I bite my tongue in deference
       To mighty reason and, with temperence,
         Advise them to proceed with circumspection.

         If I am wrong, and there's no resurrection,
       I'll rot in pious ignorance, once dead,
       But free from any retribution's dread:
         If they should err, and God does live to rule
       Some post-material existence, who'll
       Be able to affirm they weren't so told
         By one religion or another?
                                     Bold
       The atheist, arraigned on Judgement Day, to plead:
       "My logic can't be blamed; for God there was no need!"

                                    J.A.Bosworth

   

                  QUANTIC SUPERSTRINGS

     Now, Superstrings are incredible things
       That cannot be measured or weighed:
     They came to exist for those theorists
       Whose calculus-methods betrayed
     Their sums would not fit -- through mass-deficit --
       The observable Universe!
     Which loss so disclosed, (some genius proposed),
       Was merely a problem whose curse
     Would be without force if they would endorse
       Some articles, (yet without name),
     To fill up each space they could not erase:
       "String-particles" offered the same!

     But "strings" of a kind which only the mind
       Of a desperate man might devise;
     Their mass, volume, shape all inter-relate
       Through flexible weight, form and size --
     Elastic enough to replace the stuff,
       (Whatever its true nature was!),
     Which must be implied when logic untied
       The muddles past errors had caused.
     These invisible things, called "Superstrings",
       Would remedy factual defect:
     For sums would agree in every degree
       Without need for "Cause and Effect".

     These "Superstrings" -- although marvellous things --
       Seem no new invention; instead
     They just re-present, (despite their intent!),
       That quantum once worshipped as "God"!

                                  J.A.Bosworth


           Chaos

      Chaos, (some say), is not what it has seemed
        For generations immemorial!
      Caos has structure, (so such people say),
        As regular and as predictable
      As any concept science has yet dreamed.

      Appearances deceive perception's eye,
        (They say): beneath its superficial signs
      Chaos is organised in detailed schemes --
        Rich, intricate arrangements of designs --
      Which look discordant yet are harmony!

      If it be true that Chaos is the primal source
        Of formal order, still its strange residuum
      Conspires to contradict those scientific laws
        Which poise the Universal equilibrium!

(After "Chaos" by James GLIEK)

  
J.A.Bosworth



           AUTUMNAL

       I feel Autumnal hints
        Colour the air:
       Chameleonic tints,
        Scale-hued and spare.
       Bird-clouds traverse the rain
        Washed, wind-blown skies
       As Summer heats decline
        To Winter's ice.
       Through failing mortal powers
        I, too, migrate
       Across those unknown hours
        Which are my fate.

       To timeless Paradise
        Amongst the stars
       Is where my Spirit flies,
        When this life's past,
       So I believe; and so
        I steer my course,
       Though contrary may blow 
        Dead logic's force.

       My faith may prove to be
        A misplaced trust,
       And all eternity
        A cosmic dust;
       But you will never know
        (Who still survive),
       Until your time to go
        If souls do thrive!

       Although the heart recoils
        From Death's embrace,
       Faith can't deny my Soul's
        Immortal grace.
       Flesh fears the fateful route
        Down through the grave;
       Mind knows it can't refute
        Time's passing wave;
       Yet, though Autumnal tones
        Cool my warm breath
       I feel, beyond my bones,
        Life transcends death.

               
J.A.Bosworth


                         ORPHAN

            Have you known the loneliness
                Of a child, forlorn?
            Have you felt the helplessness
                Of a child rough-torn
            From the careful love of mother -
            From the shelter of  father -
                Friendless and alone?

            Some have known that hopelessness
                From their early youth;
            Some have felt that lovelessness,
                And have borne the ruth
            Of an orphan's constant anguish;
            They've learned how lost hearts can languish:
                Torments hard to soothe.

            If you have an innocent - 
                Be it girl or boy -
            Do not let that life be spent
                Other than in joy.
            Each cruel load of needless sorrow
            Will but worsen black tomorrow:
                Or a life destroy.

            If you know of any child
                Needing tender care,
            Will you not neglect to shield
                But, with loving cheer,
            Lure hurt from that young heart's rubble?
            One kind thought would make dire trouble
                Easier to bear.

J.A.Bosworth



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All poems on this page are Copyright 1997 J.A.Bosworth