What's in a name?

What makes a stone a stone, a tree a tree?
An accident of nature, blinding chance,
A tapestry and one majestic dance,
Or can the human tongue create the sea?
A rose by other names might smell as sweet,
But it, like other roses, sparks romance,
We know it is a rose at every glance,
Yet we might change it by our mind’s decree.
Were we to name the rose an apple tree,
Perhaps we’d see a greener shade of red,
But it is still a rose, however said,
No matter how we see it differently.
We see the rosiness in roses red,
The universe is woven with such thread.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 21, 2009

The Law of Entropy

Majestic pillars, monuments of stone,
Arise beneath the masters of the earth,
As justice, balance, strength and wisdom birth
A wonder of the gods, for men a throne.
Yet time does not leave miracles alone,
With rushing water, drowning living’s worth,
Eroding human grandeur on the earth,
‘Tis Fate, a master hated and unknown.
He casts eternal souls to wail and groan,
Lamenting wonders broken and deceased,
With frenzied parties and a famine feast,
They dance amid the ruins of a throne.
The Master in the Heavens mocks the beast,
Reviving those who listen to the Priest.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 20, 2009

To Cure the Soul…

The blazing flame of passion burns the heart,
The cold despair of mourning chills the soul,
The icy pang of guilt burns like a coal,
And none escapes the blaze of Cupid’s dart.
Yet brilliant color soothes the spirit’s art,
And music is a refuge for the soul,
It seems the senses dull and yet console,
To soothe the pain, force memories apart.
Yet soon the senses too begin to smart,
As cooling water chills you to the bone,
And warming fire burns the icy stone,
All suffering refuses to depart.
This circle’s very climax is a groan,
The answer is a cross before a throne.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 19, 2009

The Majesty of Words

Creation is a melody of sound,
A song where tree and forest harmonize,
As music gives imagination eyes,
The Word created sky and sea and ground.
Yet poetry has ever been renowned,
The music cloaked in conversation’s guise,
Erupts in song, though hidden in disguise,
Revealing truth and beauty, ‘tis profound.
Yet laymen also speak a certain sound,
That readily relates to human eyes,
Bereft of music’s pull, and muses’ prize,
It fails to rise to majesty renowned.
Each breath majestic in its proper place,
Our hearts prefer the sounds that speak of grace.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 18, 2009

The Conquest of Nature

Majestic mountain peaks pierce blue and white,
The ocean of the air breathes thunder clouds,
The pistons of the deep break earthen mounds,
And ocean breezes bury mountain’s might.
Poor human hands blast caverns left and right,
They fear the thunder, silencing the sounds,
They flee collapsing tempests, rolling mounds,
And run from water mountains at their height.
What man has conquered nature like a king?
What general of math has cowed the storm?
Nay, humans flee to houses safe and warm,
And claim to conquer nature’s mighty sting.
One man alone has bested nature’s might,
He gave the tempest calm, the blind their sight.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 17, 2009

The Storm of Ignorance

The tempest blasts the edges of the earth,
The sky itself disturbs all nature’s might,
The oceans burn and close all paths in sight,
And human plans shed their tremendous worth.
Advisors kill careers with scornful mirth,
They praise autonomy, the guiding light,
While I do not possess the perfect sight,
To see potential plans and judge their worth.
Yet God prepares my spirit for the fight,
And pride has long imprisoned my desire,
My future plans are not the secret fire,
But He will lead me to eternal light.
Careers are stolen, and are known to rust,
I seek a higher work, in God I trust.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 15, 2009

True Glory

Napoleon survives within the grave,
Inscribed in glory, monuments of stone,
Inspiring young Frenchmen to be brave,
Remembered from old Clio’s noble throne.
Yet some do not survive from ages past,
And yet they strive for virtue all the same,
Some brave misfortune with a valor vast,
To love and serve, and earn a silent fame.
Yet glory does not live in halls of stone,
It reigns in majesty from far above,
For ‘tis not money, fame, or battles won,
But sanctity and virtue, holy love.
True glory rests not in the halls of men,
Beatitude exceeds their fallen ken.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 14, 2009

The Fire Pyramid

As flames ignite the driest wood and grass,
Enchanting it with nature’s passioned blaze,
So man must dry himself, throughout his days,
Preparing for a love that none surpass.
As heat may kindle embers in the grass,
Awakening the strength of passion’s rays,
So she must touch his eyes, a foreign gaze,
He burns not for himself, but for the lass.
As oxygen feeds fire, as a gas,
Providing an environment ablaze,
So fate or providence must weave its maze,
To fuse the souls like powder into glass.
As firestorms fail never to amaze,
The three combine, and triumph in the blaze!
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 13, 2009

Ascetic Hedonism

The Buddha sees a world of ugly joys,
A satisfaction never reaching need,
And so, forsaking pleasure in his creed,
He turns within to find an inner poise.
The Hedonists see beauty in the noise,
A satisfaction greater than their need,
Embracing sin, they do an evil deed,
But seek beyond the self for higher joys.
Yet both confront a problem ever new,
The goods of pleasure cannot be denied,
And yet they sweep their lover in the tide,
Divorcing him from pleasures good and true.
We seek true pleasure not in lust or pride
For blessed joy we trust The Holy Guide.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 12, 2009

Love is Calminian

Did Paolo put Francesca in a sack?
Or Romeo imprison Juliet?
Or did they sing of what we ever lack,
A joy untasted, passion’s silhouette?
Tis true, a wooer must awake the wooed,
And breathe a newer life into her bones,
Yet when she lives, we must not then conclude,
That he will take her even when she groans.
No, he will value her decision yet,
And give his rapt attention to her call,
As Romeo to silent Juliet,
He cannot dance if she deserts the ball.
So God awakens us and woos us still,
Until we live anew, or have our will.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 3, 2009