Poet's Corner

[Sky Dancer]

To Be In Love

by Gwendolyn Brooks


To be in love
Is to touch with a lighter hand.
In yourself you stretch, you are well.
You look at things
Through his eyes.
A cardinal is red.
A sky is blue.
Suddenly you know he knows too.
He is not there but
You know you are tasting together
The winter, or a light spring weather.
His hand to take your hand is overmuch.
Too much to bear.
You cannot look in his eyes
Because your pulse must not say
What must not be said.
When he
Shuts a door-
Is not there_
Your arms are water.
And you are free
With a ghastly freedom.
You are the beautiful half
Of a golden hurt.
You remember and covet his mouth
To touch, to whisper on.
Oh when to declare
Is certain Death!
Oh when to apprize
Is to mesmerize,
To see fall down, the Column of Gold,
Into the commonest ash.

 

[Sky Dancer]

Where beauty is, then there is ugliness;
where right is, also there is wrong.
Knowledge and ignorance are interdependent;
delusion and enlightenment condition each other.
Since olden times it has been so.
How could it be otherwise now?
Wanting to get rid of one and grab the other
is merely realizing a scene of stupidity.
Even if you speak of the wonder of it all,
how do you deal with each thing changing?

-Ryokan-

 

[Sky Dancer]

The Swan

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

~Mary Oliver~

 

[Sky Dancer]

Prison Pruno Recipe

by Jarvis Jay Masters

Take 10 peeled oranges,
Jarvis Masters, it is the judgment and sentence of this
Court
one 8-oz. can of fruit cocktail,
that the charged information was true,
squeeze the fruit into a small plastic bag,
and the jury having previously, on said date,
and put the juice along with the mash inside;
found that the penalty shall be death,
add 16 oz. of water and seal the bag tightly.
and this Court having, on August 20, 1991,
Place the bag into your sink,
denied your motion for a new trial,
and heat it with hot running water for 15 minutes.
it is the order of this Court that you suffer death,
Wrap towels around the bag to keep it warm for
fermentation.
said penalty to be inflicted within the walls of San
Quentin,
Stash the bag in your cell undisturbed for 48 hours.
at which place you shall be put to death,
When the time has elapsed,
in the manner prescribed by law,
add 40 to 60 cubes of white sugar,
the date later to be fixed by the Court in warrant of
execution.
6 teaspoons of ketchup,
You are remanded to the custody of the warden of San
Quentin,
then heat again for 30 minutes.
to be held by him pending final
Secure the bag as before,
determination of your appeal.
than stash it undisturbed again for 72 hours.
It is so ordered.
Reheat daily for 15 minutes.
In witness whereof,
After 72 hours,
I have hereon set my hand as Judge of this Superior
court,
with a spoon, skim off the mash;
and I have caused the seal of this Court to be affixed
thereto.
pour the remaining portion into two 16-oz. cups.
May God have mercy on your soul,
Guzzle down quickly!
Mr. Jarvis Masters.
Gulp Gulp Gulp!

 

[midcan5]

'Japanese-American Farmhouse, California, 1942'

"Everything has been taken that anyone
thought worth taking. The stairs are tilted,
scattered with sycamore leaves curled
like ammonites in inland rock.
Wood shows through the paint on the frame
and the door is open--an empty room,
sunlight on the floor. All that is left
on the porch is the hollow cylinder
of an Albert's Quick Oats cardboard box
and a sewing machine. Its extraterrestrial
head is bowed, its scrolled neck
glistens. I was born, that day, near there,
in wartime, of ignorant people."

Sharon Olds

 

[midcan5]

'All Quiet'

"How come nobody is being bombed today?
I want to know, being a citizen
of this country and a family man.
You can't take my fate in your hands,
without informing me.
I can blow up a bomb or crush a skull -
whoever started this peace
without advising me
through a news leak
at which I could have voiced a protest,
running my whole family off a cliff."

David Ignatow

Written at the start of one of our bombing pauses over North Vietnam.

 

[Sky Dancer]

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost

 

[midcan5]

worry

It wasn't supposed to be this way
we raised our children
we did our part.
a simple act of biology
brought forth a child
in a long multitude of children,
and yet the thoughts came back.
is she OK
eating right
healthy
what will she be like.
today she takes my finger,
we walk,
she talks and pokes at the earth
with a small branch
as if to check its solidity.
it wasn't supposed to be this way
it just is.

 

[midcan5]

'Halfies in Philadelphia and the Ritual of Desire'

"Twenty years later I find half a tennis ball
in the woods and return for a while
to that cramped geography at the other
end of my life, empty mills and El tracks
casting shadows we did not yet feel on our backs.
Our fingers curled around halfies‚ ruined edges,
mop handle bats twitched within the fists of friends
now gone to drugs or crime or some other darkness,
a shot to the first floor a single, to the second, a double,
the third, a triple, the roof an elusive home run,
no bases to trot around, home plate a chalked square.
Radio pounding, tire hiss, acrid smell of smoke
from coal cars clacking past our dead neighborhood
on the way to somewhere far from Perlstein Glass
and the rank back alley of our failures. Our fathers
worked hard for nothing wages, came home to beer,
a hot shower, a hot meal. They did not talk much,
nor did we those afternoons we tested each other
with trick pitches—flying saucers, German helmets—
tapping aside what we did not like until we strode
into one with a vicious uppercut, trying
to lift it above our little lives into the air
where no birds flew, where the wind could catch it
and pull it onto the roof, evanescent and free."

Daniel Donaghy


To this day I cannot pick up a rounded stick and not get a sense for how it would work in our summer school yard games. When the pimple ball lost too much air we cut it in half and played half ball. I wonder if any still rest on high roofs.

The Olympics for City kids « Political Pass

 

[midcan5]

'Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia'

the fear of long words

"On the first day of classes, I secretly beg
my students Don't be afraid of me. I know
my last name on your semester schedule

is chopped off or probably misspelled—
or both. I can't help it. I know the panic
of too many consonants rubbed up
against each other, no room for vowels

to fan some air into the room of a box
marked Instructor. You want something
to startle you? Try tapping the ball of roots

of a potted tomato plant into your cupped hand
one spring, only to find a small black toad
who kicks and blinks his cold eye at you,
the sun, a gnat. Be afraid of the X-rays

for your teeth or lung. Pray for no dark spots.
You may have pneumonoultromononucleosis—
coal lung. Be afraid of money spiders

tiptoeing across your face while you sleep
on a sweet, fat couch. But don't be afraid
of me, my last name, what language I speak
or what accent dulls itself on my molars.

I will tell jokes, help you see the gleam
of the beak of a mohawked cockatiel. I will
lecture on luminescent sweeps of ocean, full

of tiny dinoflagellates oozing green light
when disturbed. I promise dark gatherings
of toadfish and comical shrimp just when you think
you are alone, hoping to stay somehow afloat."

By Aimee Nezhukumatathil

http://img.slate.com/media/95/Hippopotomontroses_22kmono.wma

 

[Sky Dancer]

Let Me Die a Youngman's Death


Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death

When I'm 73
and in constant good humour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party

Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides

Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one

Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death

Roger McGough

 

[Peejay]

Wearing a frown
out on the front porch swing
this same old town
listening to the trains
time has come and gone and why
you don’t feel a thing
roots and wings
you can’t fly away

screen door slam
quitin time again
who’d give a damn
it’s all just worn so thin
across the floor boards out the back door
you try to feel the pain
roots and wings
you can’t fly away

Roots and wings
you can’t fly away
such useless things
only kept for goodness sake
underneath the velvet sky
but only in your dreams
roots and wings
you can’t fly away

streets at night
walking with the moon
wrapped up tight
the dawn is coming soon
thunder in the distance
the wind that speaks your name
roots and wings
you can’t fly away

Roots and wings
no you can’t fly away
such useless things
kept for goodness sake
underneath the velvet sky
only in your dreams
roots and wings
you can’t fly away

 

[midcan5]

Peejay, reads like a song, did you write it?

 

[Peejay]

Peejay, reads like a song, did you write it?

Yeah, that's the title track from my last CD. Let me dig up one that hasn't been arranged into a song yet.

 

[Peejay]

I think I've been hanging around the honky tonks too long.....



The crunch of the gravel
the smell of good pot
three to one pick ups
in the parking lot
a drunk girl on her ass
she won't make the show
someone propped her up
out side of the door

inside there's a juke box
thumping out rap
how can you expect
us to compete with that
it's just me and Dusty
we came pretty far
banjo and mando, six string guitar

boys dressed in camo
girls in tight jeans
rednecks and frat boys
everything in between
that's just how it is
down by the lake
there's a bathroom inside
for goodness sake

I said to the frat boy
taking a leak
under the lamp post
right out on the street
I know that his mama
tauhgt him much better
than to stand with his goodies
out in the weather

but we loaded all in
and checked all the gear
the folks in the back
said they could hear
that maybe so
but they didn't listen
not anymore
than the kid out there pissin'

But a couple old timers
and a few young and hip
came down to the front
and decided to sit
so we gave 'em our best
and had our own fun
screw all the rest
they can go clean their guns

so they will be ready
to shoot at Obama
or maybe at me
or that boy, for his mama
she don't want him killed
I'm real sure of that
but a few pellets of bird shot
stuck in his ass

Might teach him a lesson
or just a reminder
that ol' Smith and Wesson
could be right behind you
so keep yourself decent
mind all your manners
you don't get pass
because you got hammered

 

[dilloduck]

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

Rudyard Kipling

 

[Peejay]

Bicker and babble, drivel and curse
righties and lefties and which one is worse
I ought to be sleeping, in bed with the dog
but I'm up half the night on the boards and the blogs

Who's in the shithouse, who's gone to jail
hey, there's a cheap mower on Craigslist for sale
but maybe the grass will just dry up and die
like a VGA monitor burns up your eyes

But I've got this free time and nowhere to go
I twisted my brain and thought you should know
if keystokes were handjobs and mouse clicks were lube
you'd all be knee deep, at least, in the goo

In pillows and bedsheets is where I should be
but the web is like crack, except it's for geeks
which should beg the question why I'm not sawing logs
but I'm up half the night on the boards and the blogs

What's your collection, what's your favorite tune
do you believe that men walked on the moon
was Oswald alone, who was D.B. Cooper
what do you use for stains in the pooper

these questions that burn like a hole in the sun
it's amazing these days what passes for fun
trading off jabs with strangers and weirdos
I try not to listen, it keeps me awake though

so there's a coke in the fridge and shot of good whiskey
I'd go over to get it, but someone might miss me
so I'm stuck in the chair, in a dense cyber fog
up half the night on the boards and the blogs

 

[midcan5]

Saturday afternoon at the mall

My wife and I sit in a crossway at the mall
playing a game of guessing
the occupations of passersby.
we try not to point, items describe,
some are easy nerds and youth
chino pants neat haircut
business executive
former teacher retired
hippy professor programmer
works in a pet store
faces make it hard
families harder
sometimes we laugh
as I guess cook and she cop
clerk, no, teacher
then as we leave
we point at each other
others wonder why.

 

[Chris]

Goddess on the mountain top
Burning like a silver flame
The summit of beauty and love
And Venus was her name

She's got it
Yeah, baby, she's got it
I'm your Venus, I'm your fire
At your desire
Well, I'm your Venus, I'm your fire
At your desire

Her weapons were her crystal eyes
Making every man a man
Black as the dark night she was
Got what no-one else had
Wa!

She's got it
Yeah, baby, she's got it
I'm your Venus, I'm your fire
At your desire
Well, I'm your Venus, I'm your fire
At your desire

Goddess on the mountain top
Burning like a silver flame
The summit of beauty and love
And Venus was her name

She's got it
Yeah, baby, she's got it
I'm your Venus, I'm your fire
At your desire
Well, I'm your Venus, I'm your fire
At your desire

 

[midcan5]

Chris, Peejay, maybe we need a song lyrics thread. Please use quotes and author if it is not your writing.

Bananarama - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

'Bananarama had a hit with "Venus" in 1986 on their True Confessions album.'