In my craft or sullen art

By Dylan Thomas

In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.

Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.

Princes at War

A prince, but never to be a pauper.
Sold the family crown, and headed, California.

Our dear King Charlie had praised the fab four.
Now two princes gone to war.

The Queen is turning in her grave, surely Dianna in dismay.
The dog bowl prince, too much to say.

Can peace talks ever begin? Princes at war.
Or another broken necklace, and one more slap to the jaw.

Is There Really Now No You and Me

The sun burst from the river flowing, not love that caught my eye.
The days I cursed somehow inside did treasure,
Our love that made me cry.

I need you here, why are you there?
How can you not care?

Enable this void while I walk a highway of troubled souls.
Bring the light of life.
I long for you like the blood of Christ.

The mist now leaves the river like the love from my heart.
You go on, you listen to the flesh.
Turn your back on love, turn your back on me.
Leave me here on my knees, to pray, beg and cry.
Girl please, look at me once more.
Watch my lonely heart through these eyes die.

I love you, I beg you, please dont let this be.
Who will you share your life with now, if not me?

There's my heart, now take my eyes as you in their arms I cannot see.

How did this slide?

Is there really now no you and me?



https://www.amazon.co.uk/When-Soul-Cried-Out-Meaning/dp/B08ZB6CS8T

	


	









	

		
Real World
	


	
	

		

I'm struck still where I stand, as the low Autumn sun shines bright, in all Gods glory and wonder.
 As I take in such frightening beauty, on my future, I ponder.

On this hill like my life, I hit a blind summit. Feelings of the past are sad.
Though I trust there's increased beauty down the the road to be had.

No honest work is beneath me, but in coming this far I know I can go again.
They're no better than me. We all just men.

Underneath this tangerine sky I'm called into action. While my soul is caged. 
  My minds enraged.

I slashed my way through the underworld, but I will not wait for the afterlife for my liberty to be unfurled.
I trust in you, now show me the real world.



	


	





	

		
Her
	


	
	

		

The suns light beams through the branches of the tree tunnel
you entered.
Like her, beautiful! Like your lies you invented.

She smiled as the birds were singing.
Fantasied, as in the distance the same church bells as today, ringing.

Into her life you came.
Feeding and living from her pain.

Freedom, no longer waiting.
As you gloat in her death, we long for love, we can't let go of hating.