If You Speak

If you speak for hope and laughter,

Random acts of love,

If you speak for kindness

And the radiance thereof,

If you speak for beauty 

In each person that you see,

If you speak for all these things,

Why, then, you speak for me. 

If you speak for those without,

Or those who've lost their way,

If you speak for making something

Better every day,

If you speak for mercy

Even to the smallest flea,

If you speak for charity,

Why, then, you speak for me. 

And if you should have troubles

Or be battered by the storm,

Or if the hearth of fellowship

Should fail to keep you warm,

If the darkness closes in

With everything you do,

And if your voice is small and weak,

Then, friend, I'll speak for you. 

Ode to an Ode

O Ode, thou perfectest of all expression,

Thy words well-chosen and thy structure sound

Enable the most intimate confession

Of thoughts which otherwise would soon be drowned

Beneath the sea of fortune, still and black

Against whose shores my heart would run aground.

Thou ruminateth like the chewing yak

On any object which hast thou inspired—

An objet d’art or — ah — a fresh Big Mac.

And O, the truth and beauty thou hast sired

Would render wisdom to the lunatic. 

O Ode! O Form! O Poem most admired!

Yet still, for just a naughty little kick,

Thou matchest not the dirty limerick.

The Pains of Love: A Sonnet

Oh love, how I do suffer to be thine,

With sharp afflictions tormenting my form.

Without thy love, the shivers rush my spine

Like biting frozen cake I thought was warm.

The longing of my heart, it pulls at me

Much like my sock doth tug my hanging nail.

Thou knowest not how I have burned for thee,

Like chili pepper scorching my entrail.

The pain I feel, how reminiscent of

My neck’s mild pang from sleeping on it funny.

If thou shalt not consent to share my love,

I’ll melt with sorrow like a nose that’s runny.

I hope my meaning thou canst soon unriddle—

I dieth for thy love, but just a little.