My Poems

All poems by Maurice Tuck

Ebb Tide

Sorrow has its tides.
When loss has risen full
No current deeply hides
From lunar sway and pull,

But grows and flows and streams
From up the ocean shelf,
To flood the living dreams
Of continental self.

In waves it crushes down
With chills that lap the mind,
And victims swim or drown
According to their kind.

Endure the bitter wet.
Endure, await and bide
Until the moon has set,
And time has cured the tide.

10-11-79  Writing as Gabriel Alighieri


 In the planes and the curves

In the planes and the curves of your face
Both the lights and the shades leave their trace
Both the low of your chin and the high of your brow
Show the morn of your past and the noon of your now.


Spring is coming

Spring is coming,
Blood is drumming,
Youth is basking,
Life is asking
us to play.

Youth is fleeting,
Wings are beating,
Leaves are falling,
Death is calling
us away.

May 8, 1976


The Fountainhead

Ragged ranges break across the friendless plain.
Rippled, troubled, rugged earth convulsed in pain,
Ascends the skies; sharp bends arise from endless main.
Glad to be again at rest, embrace my land of birth
Glad to see again my fountainhead of joy and mirth,
Mountain bred, my boy (his eyes say welcome), home and hearth.


Arcanest commonplace

Arcanest commonplace,
He said, “Good-bye” – goodbye.
The last farewell embrace,
His lips upon my face
A fleeting butterfly.

Thanksgiving Day, 1978



Copyright 2012, Maurice Tuck

Use only with permission.