Babylon, Mistress of Greed
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 11.03.19Weep not for Babylon,
Mistress of greed;
Weep for her people,
Who took no heed.
The plight of the poor,
The cry of the orphan,
The fear of the foreigner,
Exploiting anyone.
Weep not for Babylon,
Mistress of greed;
Weep for her people,
Who took no heed.
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For Jealousy
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 23.11.11Recommended reading: Proverbs 14:30, 27:4, Colossians 2:2-3,
Ephesians 1:18, and for good measure, so many more.
For jealousy I tossed away the crown,
And trampled it ‘neath the feet.
For jealousy I ripped the cloak apart,
And tatters blow down the street.
For jealousy I bitterly wept and gnashed and screamed,
And mourned and loathed and cried.
For jealousy I cursed the empty skies,
And knew, “I should have died.”
For jealously my gaze would follow,
My terrible destruction,
A fellow all my equal,
But for my mind’s dysfunction.
For jealousy I lost my clothes,
My gold, my joy, my self.
For jealousy I lost my soul…
Because I forgot my wealth.
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Strength Fails
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 7.06.11Strength, fails as conduit to,
the furious sun inside.
Trapped, temporal body form,
no time is left to bide.
Swiftly, though the tempest spins,
and deep within it boils.
Thick, the skin of earthy jail,
escape still cruelly foils.
Filled, with all of life and love,
exuberant feelings tole.
Hearts, will only burst,
the aneurism of our soul.
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A Grandfather's Dirge (continued)
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 16.05.11Started in 2008 after dreaming of my grandfather, the poem remained unfinished at just two stanzas until his death on May 12th, 2011. After writing two more stanzas, it was recorded late the night before the funeral and played during the service. Forgive the roughness, I’m not the greatest musician! Instruments include neck-style dulcimer and irish whistle.
Hello my weeping daughter,
hello my bright eyed sons…
Fear not for I am just travelling,
to see beyond the sun.
Long have I walked these pastures,
to work and weathered hands…
And now to go before you,
to tread the golden lands.
Torn back, the sky has faded,
but light has only grown…
All shadows run and flee,
before the fire-ry throne.
Though mourning me, my lass,
and time is slow to pass…
Spring rain has washed the land,
and I, by the blood of the Lamb.
Hello my weeping daughter,
hello my bright eyed sons…
Fear not for I am just travelling,
to see beyond the sun.
Thank you. I came here for code, but found your music and thoughts touching my heart.
Music needs instruments and tones, but is so much more than just that.
A thought needs words and sentences but is so much more than just that.
What a bonus, what a blessing.
Best,
<< Herbert
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Don't let me be too late
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 13.01.09You were standing in the market,
when your old life came a-calling,
a debt you couldn’t pay,
and yourself for the selling
Do not let me be,
too late by your side,
running past the shoes,
you hastily cast aside.
Stuttering on the cobblestones,
stumbling through the naked streets,
mind entangled like your legs,
frantic thoughts in feverish heats.
Do not let me be,
too late by your side,
slipping on the blood,
as stone and feet collide.
And there along a cliff I see,
your soul all worn, and deathly wet.
the wind drops silent, like the birds,
as time falters, broken, unset.
Do not let me be,
too late by your side,
to hold and caress,
and hope that you see…
I take no account,
of a long, sordid past,
when I call in the street,
to a far humbler caste.
You were standing in the market,
when you heard someone calling,
an account you couldn’t settle,
and the awful darkness swelling.
(and so you ran)
Do not let me be,
too late by your side,
to hold and caress,
and hope to provide…
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A Grandfather's Dirge
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 13.09.08Hello my weeping daughter,
hello my bright eyed son…
Fear not for I am travelling,
to see beyond the sun.
Long have I walked these pastures,
to work and weathered hands…
And now to go before you,
to tread the golden lands.
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I miss...
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 3.11.07I miss not holding your hand,
as the trees change colour and the wind chills the bone…
I miss being huddled together in the park,
an afternoon walk cut short by quiet whispers in lovers code…
I miss never having tea with you,
sitting cross legged on a porch and sipping something sweet.
And the artifice is gone, and nothing is all that’s left…
I miss not having gone to church with you,
and an afternoon nap where we didn’t have to say a word…
I miss seeing your sleeping form,
as I stay up late polishing a project and smiling to myself…
I miss never knowing the closeness,
that you and I have needed so much…
And being alone now makes it clear, that being surrounded isn’t the same, as being near you…
I miss listening to music,
and dancing to a song that makes me want to cry…
I miss the things we might have done,
the places we could have gone, the food we would have eaten…
I miss you, and wonder…
will you ever miss me?
Really like this poem, it has a really nice flow to it. Keep up the good work mate 
Mat (UK)
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When I loved you
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 12.05.07When I loved you, and you loved him,
and none of us could know,
the times to come, the waves to crash,
the stormy winds to blow…
When I loved you, and you loved him,
the world so sweetly calm,
the pain just starting, slowly building,
tuning for the dirge and psalm…
When I loved you, and you loved him,
and nothing could go on,
I had to resign, to thoughtless grief,
and find another song…
When you loved him, and I loved naught,
the quaking, beating drowned,
silent heart and muddled tears, and there I was,
laying dead upon the ground.
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Painful
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 12.05.07An easy question,
simple,
soft,
and stinging.
They ask me,
interfere,
intrude,
and wonder.
Painful to remember,
recall,
relive,
and rekindle.
A single face,
loved,
lost,
and hated.
Yet it’s there,
still,
stubborn,
and silent.
Waiting for me,
waned,
withdrawn,
and remembered.
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Time and Change
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 3.03.07Time has passed and things have changed,
water under the bridge, or so some say,
words unshared and thoughts unchained,
and paths more separate by the day.
Long since late nights, and cups of tea,
and memories of tears, but we let them be.
Perhaps content in mere retrace,
of cashmere lines and casualness,
but never recall the damp disgrace,
or listen for signs of tenderness.
We’ve left the ocean, the endless sea,
to forget the ever dredged debris.
Long time since we were both together,
hunkered down and snug as friends.
Must we now discuss the weather,
idle gossip, and our coffee blends?
Though time has passed and things have changed,
we should not leave things be.
If stars can die and have no pain,
together, neither shall we.
mediaboxAdvanced
thank you