The Giving of Thanks

What profit the meek that they gain the earth
Without the wherewithal to plough
And sow the seeds of distant mirth
So jollity may bloom and grow

To render fruitful gifted sod
Takes time that none so meek may hold
Unless in changing nature’s clod
He steels himself to make so bold

And doing thusly, loses all
The bounty he had earned in deep
Humility and careful crawl
To build the empires he did seek

With these two hands undo the deeds
Upon which founder grew so tall
All loftiness and blessed greed
No longer fearful at the call

When other men have stood and shook
From head to toe to hear such voice
Proclaiming what had been forsook
By liberty and foolish choice

What meek men did, they do no more
As others shuffle in their place
And turn their cheek and fear the poor
Whose habits keep them clothed in lace

Where now is earth? What saltiness
Has dripped upon the failing crops
From little more than cowardice
The planet from mean axis, stops

No longer crouching ‘cross the sky
But stalling in such attitude
With what was learned from you and I
When treated harshly, men are rude

Mechanicals at best and worst
Who may not see their actions’ swell
But recognise their face is cursed
And know the reason all too well

The Balancing Act

We cram them in
All sorts and types
And show them ‘sin’
Dressed up in tights

A high wire tale
Of bird and bee
The truth is veiled
For all to see

She tiptoes out
Along the line
With parasol
Come rain or shine

And does her pretty
Pantomime
To show the world
She’s doing fine

The rose she throws
To rows of seats
A thorny trick
For kids whose sweets

Still stain the hands
The cheek, the lip
That pales to see
This vision slip

As feathers flutter
To the floor
The wire dips
The girl no more

Is perched upon
Her roosting place
But safe below
And in disgrace