THE LONGING
If *“poetry keeps longing alive”
Then the art form will live forever
There are those who will always
Long for something more:
Than the tent in the desert
The humble chapel in the mountains
The manger in the cold
The dread of the day
Beyond the dawn
I am one
Of those
Longing for the
Sweet, semi-comatose
Of the forbidden dream
Where warmth
Prohibits reality
Of a world
Run amok, chaotic
Where the gifts of
The wise are dashed
Upon the altars of madness
Turned away
From a manger empty
Of hope
I long
For something
More
*Robert Bly
This World Is Not Conclusion (Honoring the Poetry of Others)
this world is not conclusion
a species stands beyond –
invisible, as music –
but positive as sound –
it beckons, and it baffles
philosophy – don’t know –
and through a riddle, at the last
sagacity must go –
to guess it, puzzles scholars –
to gain it, men have borne
contempt of generations
and crucifixion, shown –
faith slips – and laughs, and rallies –
blushes, if any see –
plucks at a twig of evidence –
and asks a vane, the way –
much gesture, from the pulpit –
strong hallelujahs roll –
narcotics cannot still the tooth
that nibbles at the soul –
This World Is Not Conclusion” by Emily Dickinson. (Public domain. )Not Quite the Goddess of Blog
Sorry to all
as I navigate the vicissitudes of wordpress.
Forgive the mass mistake mailings 😦
Gwen
My Son: In His Own Sweet Way
~ I wonder what my son will think
When he is old and gray
Will he remember fiends from night
Or the sunshine from his days
~ I did what every parent wants
To raise strong and healthy kids
I am so afraid my labor’s lost
When I see him on the skids
~ Silly now, or so it seems
That imaginary age
When child puts away childish things
To turn the adult-like page
~ But there are days I get a peek
And see the son I wrought
He takes this life as serious lesson
That magically can be taught
~ Now most days I get a peek
Of the smile I used to coax
I know there’s sunshine in his heart
As it issues from his throat
~ It remains a joy to relax and bask
In these times I want to hold
But I should know as well as another
Nothing stays that’s gold
~ So I wonder what he will think
When I am old and gray
Will he remember terrorist nights
Or his sunny fields of play
~ I wonder too if he will see
The chimera, remora-like pain
Riding his parents’ loving hearts
In that symbiotic train
Your Sister Mine
So you have a sister
Works at Wal-Mart –
The oft-ridiculed ‘greeter’
Makes people smile
Forgetting their troubles
Walking in
But not out –
When the yellow smiley
Icon becomes a badge
Empowering her
To check receipts
Against purchases
She complains to you
Of her knees
As she dines on
KFC in the few moments
She has left before sleep
The cuter sister
Who wanted so much
Much more from life
So much – as long as
Much didn’t include
You or your like
“I don’t want to be like anybody else”
And so she isn’t – at all costs
She is unique –
Within the family anyway
She is able to hide from her disdain
For you
When she complains of her life
Compared to the abundance of love
She says she has
For you
And the abundance
Of things yours
This has been her lash
Skillfully applied
No pain
As you whip out your
Checkbook
You consider the amount
As her “miss goody, goody”
Taunt rings in your head
You were never close
Resentment then guilt
Ties you to the mast
Of a chromosomal
Sharedness and
The fear that neither
Of you is different
How could that be?
Her world is bought
And paid for
With her greetings
Her gray smile that wanted more
Her hands that
Replace the ‘go-backs’
The same fingers that tremble
Around the rigid paycheck
That won’t stretch through
The one bedroom apartment
Off the strip
To next month’s untenable rent
You find the line
Enter the amount
That allows the roof
That covers her grief
Gwen's World 