Poet's Corner

[Dhara]

Why I Am Obsessed with Horses

Michael McGriff

Because when I saw a horse
cross a river
separating two countries
and named it Ghost Rubble
it said No my name is 1935
because it also spoke in tongues
as it crossed the black tongue
of the water
because it still arcs through me
with its zodiac
of shrapnel-bright stars
because the river’s teeth
still gnash
against its flank
and its eyes
still have the luster
of black china
glowing black-bright
in the glass hutch of memory
because a horse’s skull
is a ditch of wildflowers
because a horse’s skull
is a box of numbers
a slop bucket
resting upside down
under barn eaves
wind in an empty stockyard
orange clay that breaks
shovel handles with a shrug
because a horse is the underwriter
of all motion
because a horse is the first
and last item
on every list
of every season
and because that night the air
smelled green as copper
and lath dust
and that night as it scrambled
up the bank and stamped past me
it said Unlike you
I am the source of all echoes.

 

[Dhara]

I am the wall at the lip of the water
I am the rock that refused to be battered
I am the dyke in the matter, the other
I am the wall with the womanly swagger
And I have been many a wicked grandmother
and I shall be many a wicked daughter.

Judy Grahn

 

[Dhara]

Another great one by Judy Grahn


Here, the sea strains to climb up on the land
and the wind blows dust in a single direction.
The trees bend themselves all one way
and volcanoes explode often
Why is this? Many years back
a woman of strong purpose
passed through this section
and everything else tried to follow

 

[Impenitent]

It makes me really happy to see this thread so active. I started it with a friend in 2008. So many, many poems. All kinds of poems.

Here's another....

Mercury in Retrograde
BY SHERYL LUNA
The day ended badly with a broken ankle,
a jinxed printer, and a dead car. The dry yellow grass
against the sunset saved me. Roosters

pranced across a lawn of shit, proudly plumed
in black feathers, bobbing before the gray goats.
It was the first day I saw god in the quiet,

and found a mustard seed was very small.
There I had been for years cursing “why?”
and all the gold in the sun fell upon me.

There was a white mare in the midst
of brown smog, majestic in the refinery
clouds. Even the radio wouldn’t work!

My mother limps and her hair falls out.
The faithful drive white Chevy trucks
or yellow Camrys, and I’m here golden

on the smoking shock-less bus.
I lost language in this want, each poem
dust, Spanish fluttered

as music across the desert, even weeds
tumbled unloved. The police sirens seared
the coming night, dogs howled helplessly
sad.

Lo I walk the valley of death, love
lingers in my hard eyes. Mañana never
comes just right. I mend myself in the folds

of paper songs, ring my paper bells
for empty success. Quiero Nada,
if I sing long enough, I’ll grow dreamlike
and find a flock of pigeons, white under
wings lifting awkward bodies like doves
across the silky blue-white sky.

I didn't realize you were the OP.

Nice thread!

 

[Impenitent]

Roses are red
Violets are blue
She never said
I love you

But what unsaid
Things she'd do
Straight to my head
My heart knew

Roses now dead
Wilted, it's true
Baby has fled
We are through



Our love was sweeter than candy
Intoxicating like brandy
Red/blue merely clothes we wore
We always left them at the door

She loved sailing around the world
We'd dock at every bay
Until eve engaged in playful repartee
When to my arms she came and whirled

I loved her flavor, unknown before
Anticipating, trembling to touch her
My precious queen - my voracious whore
I would part with neither, nor dream of another

But love can be fickle and fleeting
A betrayer she was secretly meeting
Laughing at love letters, planning a coup
Who in the long run she betrayed, too

 

[Dhara]

Sticks

Thomas Sayers Ellis

My father was an enormous man
Who believed kindness and lack of size
Were nothing more than sissified
Signs of weakness. Narrow-minded,

His eyes were the worst kind
Of jury — deliberate, distant, hard.
No one could out-shout him
Or make bigger fists. The few

Who tried got taken for bad,
Beat down, their bodies slammed.
I wanted to be just like him:
Big man, man of the house, king.

A plagiarist, hitting the things he hit,
I learned to use my hands watching him
Use his, pretending to slap mother
When he slapped mother.

He was sick. A diabetic slept
Like a silent vowel inside his well-built,
Muscular, dark body. Hard as all that
With similar weaknesses

— I discovered writing,
How words are parts of speech
With beats and breaths of their own.
Interjections like flams. Wham! Bam!

An heir to the rhythm
And tension beneath the beatings,
My first attempts were filled with noise,
Wild solos, violent uncontrollable blows.

The page tightened like a drum
Resisting the clockwise twisting
Of a handheld chrome key,
The noisy banging and tuning of growth.

 

[Dhara]

The Secret

Denise Levertov

Two girls discover
the secret of life
in a sudden line of
poetry.

I who don't know the
secret wrote
the line. They
told me

(through a third person)
they had found it
but not what it was
not even

what line it was. No doubt
by now, more than a week
later, they have forgotten
the secret,

the line, the name of
the poem. I love them
for finding what
I can't find,

and for loving me
for the line I wrote,
and for forgetting it
so that

a thousand times, till death
finds them, they may
discover it again, in other
lines

in other
happenings. And for
wanting to know it,
for

assuming there is
such a secret, yes,
for that
most of all.

 

[Impenitent]

"Money for Nothing"
(Dire Straits)

Now look at them yo-yo's that's the way you do it
You play the analyst on Fox TV
That ain't ' workin' that's the way you do it
Corporations ain't people
And money ain't speech

Now that ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Lemme tell ya them guys ain't dumb
Maybe get a diamond for your little finger
Maybe get stupid donors under your thumb

We gotta shake hands and knock on doors
50 state strategy
We gotta register new voters
We gotta get them picture ID's

See the bigot with the comb over and the makeup
Yeah buddy that's his own hair
That loudmouth bigot got his own jet airplane
That loudmouth bigot he's a billionaire

We gotta shake hands and knock on doors
50 state strategy
We gotta register new voters
We gotta get them picture ID's

I shoulda learned to play the con
I shoulda learned to play them marks
Look at that mama, She got it stickin' in the camera
Man we could have some fun
And he's up there, what's that?
Obamacare and free stuff?
Bangin' on Benghazi like a set of bongos
That ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Corporations ain't people
And money ain't speech

We gotta shake hands and knock on doors
50 state strategy
We gotta register new voters
We gotta get them picture ID's,
Lord

Now that ain't workin' that's the way you do it
You play the analyst on Fox TV
That ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Corporations ain't people
And money ain't speech
Corporations ain't people
And money ain't speech

I want my
I want my
I want my Fox TV

I want my
I want my
I want my Fox TV

 

[Dhara]

The debt is paid,
The verdict said,
The Furies laid,
The plague is stayed,
All fortunes made;
Turn the key and bolt the door,
Sweet is death forevermore.
Nor haughty hope, nor swart chagrin,
Nor murdering hate, can enter in.
All is now secure and fast;
Not the gods can shake the Past;
Flies-to the adamantine door
Bolted down forevermore.
None can reenter there, -
No thief so politic,
No Satan with a royal trick
Steal in by window, chink or hole,
To bind or unbind, add what lacked
Insert a leaf, or forge a name,
New-face or finish what is packed,
Alter or mend eternal Fact.


The Past By Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

[Dhara]

And a youth said, "Speak to us of Friendship."

Your friend is your needs answered.

He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.

And he is your board and your fireside.

For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.

When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."

And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;

For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.

When you part from your friend, you grieve not;

For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.

And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.

For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

And let your best be for your friend.

If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.

For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?

Seek him always with hours to live.

For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.

And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.

For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

Khalil Gibran

 

[Dhara]

Peace, my heart, let the time for
the parting be sweet.
Let it not be a death but completeness.
Let love melt into memory and pain
into songs.
Let the flight through the sky end
in the folding of the wings over the
nest.
Let the last touch of your hands be
gentle like the flower of the night.
Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a
moment, and say your last words in
silence.
I bow to you and hold up my lamp
to light you on your way.

Peace, My Heart By Rabindranath Tagore

 

[Dhara]

When you look for peace
then the peace lies within you
When you search for peace
then it is not hard to find
When you want to keep peace alive
then you allow white doves to fly over you
When you make peace with others
then the whole world live in your heart
When you let peace be in the world
then you live in wonderful world
When you allow peace flow around the world
then your hateness will go and love will flow
When you open the door for peace
then peace welcome to your lives.
Let the peace prevail in our wonderful world


Ravi Sathasivam

 

[Impenitent]

I was channeling Edgar Allen Poe
Lookin' for reason and a bit of rhyme
When Ed busted in - he was good to go
"Really' I implored. 'You don't mind the mime?"
"No' he underscored. 'As long as you make a good show"

 

[Dhara]

The Storm

Now through the white orchard my little dog
romps, breaking the new snow
with wild feet.
Running here running there, excited,
hardly able to stop, he leaps, he spins
until the white snow is written upon
in large, exuberant letters,
a long sentence, expressing
the pleasures of the body in this world.
Oh, I could not have said it better

- Mary Oliver

 

[Dhara]

Black Oaks

Okay, not one can write a symphony, or a dictionary,

or even a letter to an old friend, full of remembrance
and comfort.

Not one can manage a single sound though the blue jays
carp and whistle all day in the branches, without
the push of the wind.

But to tell the truth after a while I’m pale with longing
for their thick bodies ruckled with lichen

and you can’t keep me from the woods, from the tonnage

of their shoulders, and their shining green hair.

Today is a day like any other: twenty-four hours, a
little sunshine, a little rain.

Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from
one boot to another — why don’t you get going?

For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees.

And to tell the truth I don’t want to let go of the wrists
of idleness, I don’t want to sell my life for money,

I don’t even want to come in out of the rain.

- Mary Oliver

 

[Impenitent]

"Ode to Cynthia Ann Parker"

She and her only daughter
Her precious Prairie Flower
Wrested from Elysium so ardently
Only to be imprisoned for all eternity




Denied their return to the wanderers
Away from these heartless conquerors
Back to the husband and loving father
And to Quanah, Prairie Flower's noble brother

Dreaming of escape from walls that surround her
And cursing the searchers who unwittingly found her
Nadua resolute as Indian, body and soul
While white man's greed and disease takes its toll

From the Rio Grande to the Cimarron is a land of splendor
Comanches defend it, having no word for surrender
Adding up to a fight to the death against the invasion
And death would be the final sum of Nadua's equation

Nothing she fears, but no weapon to hide
Nadua seeks retribution for the Comanche genocide
Unknowingly becoming a martyr for an Indian nation
Cynthia Ann Parker chooses death by starvation

Honor the woman who endured lifetime travails
Honor the woman who in death yet prevails
Honor the woman who was a sacrificed pawn
Honor the woman of an Indian life long ago gone


Cynthia Ann Parker - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

 

[Dhara]

25 THINGS MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME

1. My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE.
'If you're going to kill each other, do it outside.
I just finished cleaning.'

2. My mother taught me RELIGION.
'You better pray that will come out of the carpet.'

3. My mother taught me about TIME TRAVEL.
'If you don't straighten up,
I'm going to knock you into the middle of next week! '

4. My mother taught me LOGIC.
“Because I said so, that's why.'

5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC.
'If you fall out of that swing and break your neck,
you're not going to the store with me.'

6. My mother taught me FORESIGHT.
'Make sure you wear clean underwear,
in case you're in an accident.'

7. My mother taught me IRONY.
'Keep crying and I'll give you something to cry about.'

8. My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS.
'Shut your mouth and eat your supper.'

9. My mother taught me about being a CONTORTIONIST.
'Will you look at that dirt on the back of your neck'

10. My mother taught me about STAMINA.
'You'll sit there until all that spinach is gone.'

11. My mother taught me about WEATHER.
'This room of yours looks as if a tornado went through it.'

12. My mother taught me about HYPOCRISY.
'If I told you once, I've told you a million times.
Don't exaggerate! '

13. My mother taught me the CIRCLE OF LIFE.
'I brought you into this world, and I can take you out.'

14. My mother taught me about BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION.
'Stop acting like your father! '

15. My mother taught me about ENVY.
'There are millions of less fortunate children in the world who
don’t have wonderful parents like you do.'

16. My mother taught me about ANTICIPATION.
'Just wait until we get home.'

17. My mother taught me about RECEIVING.
'You are going to get it when you get home! '

18. My mother taught me MEDICAL SCIENCE.
'If you don't stop crossing your eyes,
they are going to get stuck that way.'

19. My mother taught me about ESP.
'Put your sweater on; don't you think I know when you are cold? '

20. My mother taught me HUMOR.
'When that lawn mower cuts off your toes,
don't come running to me.'

21. My mother taught me HOW TO BECOME AN ADULT.
'If you don't eat your vegetables, you'll never grow up.'

22. My mother taught me GENETICS.
'You're just like your father.'

23. My mother taught me about my ROOTS.
'Shut that door behind you.
Do you think you were born in a barn? '

24. My mother taught me WISDOM.
'When you get to be my age, you'll understand.'

And my favorite:

25. My mother taught me about JUSTICE.
'One day you'll have kids,
and I hope they turn out ten times worse than you'

Howard Kern

 

[Dhara]

Be With Those Who Help Your Being

Be with those who help your being.
Don’t sit with indifferent people, whose breath
comes cold out of their mouths.
Not these visible forms, your work is deeper.

A chunk of dirt thrown in the air breaks to pieces.
If you don’t try to fly,
and so break yourself apart,
you will be broken open by death,
when it’s too late for all you could become.

Leaves get yellow. The tree puts out fresh roots
and makes them green.
Why are you so content with a love that turns you yellow?

Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

 

[Dhara]

If you are not to become a monster,
you must care what they think.
If you care what they think,

how will you not hate them,
and so become a monster
of the opposite kind? From where then

is love to come—love for your enemy
that is the way of liberty?
From forgiveness. Forgiven, they go

free of you, and you of them;
they are to you as sunlight
on a green branch. You must not

think of them again, except
as monsters like yourself,
pitiable because unforgiving.

Wendell Berry

 

[Dhara]

I have no parents:

I make the heavens and the earth my parents.

I have no home:

I make awareness my home.

I have no life or death:

I make the tides of breathing my life and death.

I have no divine power:

I make honesty my divine power:

I have no means:

I make understanding my means.

I have no magic secrets:

I make character my magic secret.

I have no body:

I make endurance my body.

I have no eyes:

I make the flash of lightning my eyes.

I have no ears:

I make sensibility my ears.

I have no limbs:

I make promptness my limbs.

I have no strategy:

I make “unshadowed by thought” my strategy.

I have no designs:

I make seizing opportunity by the forelock my design.

I have no miracles:

I make right action my miracles.

I have no principles:

I make adaptability to all circumstances my principles.

I have no tactics:

I make emptiness and fullness my tactics.

I have no talents:

I make ready with my talent.

I have no friends:

I make my mind my friend.

I have no enemy:

I make carelessness my enemy.

I have no armour:

I make benevolence and righteousness my armour.

I have no castle:

I make immovable mind my castle.

I have no sword:

I make absence of self my sword.



Anonymous Samurai

14th Century