Dan's Poetry Corner II


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Jim MartinProject donor
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Message 1309579 - Posted: 24 Nov 2012, 3:24:36 UTC - in response to Message 1308152.

A beautiful poem by LadyL, Mike.

Thanks, for entering it.

jm

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Message 1309584 - Posted: 24 Nov 2012, 3:37:13 UTC

. . . plus one, by Mary Oliver. This time, it's one that was
included in "The Discovery of Poetry", by Frances Mayes.


Poppies

(Mary Oliver, 1935-)


The poppies send up their
orange flares; swaying
in the wind, their congregations
are a levitation

of bright dust, of thin
and lacy leaves.
There isn't a place
in this world that doesn't

sooner or later drown
in the indigos of darkness,
but now, for a while,
the roughage

shines like a miracle
as it floats above everything
with its yellow hair.
Of course nothing stops the cold,

black, curved blade
from hooking forward --
of course
loss is the great lesson.

But, also I say this: that light
is an invitation
to happiness,
and that happiness,

when it's done right,
is a kind of holiness,
palpable and redemptive.
Inside the bright fields,

touched by their rough and spongy gold,
I am washed and washed
in the river
of earthly delight --

and what are you going to do --
what can you do
about it --
deep, blue night?


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Message 1309731 - Posted: 24 Nov 2012, 11:54:23 UTC
Last modified: 24 Nov 2012, 11:54:47 UTC

Being there


Being there...
Legs pulled up, arms around your knees.
Looking down tho where ocean and sky meet.
Where ships come and go,
crossing worlds where they meet.
Looking up to the western heavens
where moon and stars fade.
At the coming of dawn,
they wait for the earth to turn.
By the timetable she follows
to be seen again at sundown.

Looking at this scenery in space,
universe extravaganza,
thoughts come to mind,
question marks,
the ones you carry since ancient times.

What on earth are we doing here?
What will the future be?
Is there a way out back to the stars?

Well, the answers are
within,
within you.
The spirit
of play.
It will show when you play
the games of life.
Guaranteed, the future will be,
as bright as you'll be.
As it will be.
Come on and play.
Team up!
You'll be on your way...


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1310268 - Posted: 25 Nov 2012, 19:28:01 UTC

Searching (for ET...)


I will stare at the moon
for as long as it takes.
I will find it...and soon,
I won't make mistakes.

I will look at the stars,
even when the sun comes up.
I will look behind bars
and take a glimpse of every raindrop.

I will search here and there,
even if it seems impossible.
I will fight with the ones who care
for a life maybe o so fragile.


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1310561 - Posted: 26 Nov 2012, 19:16:51 UTC

The best days


Time is changing everything.
It's changing you and me.
It's moving all around us,
keeps moving endlessly
but nothing will ever change
the way I feel inside.
The memory will
always be alive.

When I remember you,
I remember love.
I remember how you always
gave it all you got.
I remember all the good
and bad times
and also the sad times
and how you taught me
to remember those were
the best days of our lives.


Julie Detavernier (2012)


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Message 1310804 - Posted: 27 Nov 2012, 19:57:43 UTC

Smile


Smile when you're happy
and smile when you're sad.
Smile when you're in love
and smile when you're feeling bad.

Smile your whole life
and everything will be alright.
A smile is the key to every answer.
With a smile, you win every fight.

But even when it hurts,
smile and laugh and do it whole.
Just smile and show your feelings
'cause a smile is a mirror to your soul.


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1312270 - Posted: 7 Dec 2012, 19:51:03 UTC
Last modified: 7 Dec 2012, 19:52:46 UTC

Sisters


There is much
to be said
about sisters.
Richness of living.
Measures of giving
to each other,
as sisters.


My face
in the mirror,
on their eyes,
reflecting.
Everything falls
back in place.

I've got all
my sisters
around me.
No hiding,
nor colliding.

With love
to my sisters.


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1312384 - Posted: 8 Dec 2012, 4:18:21 UTC
Last modified: 8 Dec 2012, 4:19:15 UTC

The Wheel

(Wendell Berry, 1934-)


At the first strokes of the fiddle bow
the dancers rise from their seats.
The dance begins to shape itself
in the crowd, as couples join,
and couples join couples, their movement
together lightening their feet.
They move in the ancient circle
of the dance. The dance and the song
call each other into being. Soon
they are one--rapt in a single
rapture, so that even the night
has its clarity, and time
is the wheel that brings it round.
In this rapture the dead return.
Sorrow is gone from them.
They are light. They step
into the steps of the living
and turn with them in the dance
in the sweet enclosure
of the song, and timeless
is the wheel that brings it round.

from "The Discovery of Poetry",
by Frances Mayes
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Message 1312392 - Posted: 8 Dec 2012, 4:38:58 UTC
Last modified: 8 Dec 2012, 4:39:46 UTC

He Dances with Kitties


He dances with kitties, to where he doth not know.
But where the kitties lead, this man he shall go.

They sometimes run off, as kitties will do.
And then this man, he who dances with kitties,
soon shall be running off too.

They take him away from this world and it's strife.
It's troubles they all go away.
When the man, he who dances with kitties,
let's his felines direct him on the way.

So there now you have it, a story so grand and so true.
And some day, perhaps you shall be dancing and laughing.....
Dancing with kitties too.

msattler 12/7/12
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*********************************************
Embrace your inner kitty...ya know ya wanna!

I have met a few friends in my life.
Most were cats.

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Message 1312885 - Posted: 9 Dec 2012, 3:51:22 UTC

Kindly permit a more personal poem from a stoic, of sorts. :o)


Polyphony


A wave crests, breaks,
and rushes across the sand --
and, does it again,
and, again.

And, so does my life --
it crests, breaks,
and rushes across the sands of the years --
again, and again.

What is added?
For every year,
a voice is added to
my life's musical score.

A polyphony of voices,
striving to achieve
a Renaissance
of beauty.

But,
not quite able
to reach the height --
to wipe the shore clean.

Waves of polyphony.
Resonances of today,
of yesterday,
intimations of tomorrow.

* * *

j. r. martin
8 Dec. 2012

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Message 1313229 - Posted: 9 Dec 2012, 19:24:07 UTC
Last modified: 9 Dec 2012, 19:26:21 UTC

The Fool, The Emperor


These days we've got sciences
that describe our narrow mindedness

Yet we're quite occupied,
while chaotic crystals
make my head ignite.

Holding the molten gold of the sun,
enjoying it slipping through my fingers,
futile to try holding infinity.
Only the mystery can
and thus it carries me


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1314375 - Posted: 12 Dec 2012, 19:27:52 UTC

Demon


He walks into a playground,
a demon diguised as man.
His face is blank, his feelings numb.
He knows how this will end.

He doesn't use candy,
nor toys or pain.
He uses their gullibility,
just to win his game.

He follows them on the street,
yearning, full of lust.
Should we tell little children
it's not ok to trust?


Julie Detavernier(2012)

Wrote it after a nightmare I had...


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Message 1314808 - Posted: 13 Dec 2012, 19:25:04 UTC

About existence


If you question your existence.
If you really have no clue
what you're doing in this world,
not knowing if they really need you.

If you need an explanation.
If you need a reason why.
Go and search your destination.
Go and search yourself, please try.

If you think you're not able.
If you think you might be wrong.
Take the chance to do so,
take the chance to be strong.

If you succeed in giving meaning,
if you succeed to make things work,
it will bring you satisfaction,
it will bring you back on earth.


Julie Detavernier (2012)


For a friend...
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Message 1316660 - Posted: 18 Dec 2012, 2:03:39 UTC
Last modified: 18 Dec 2012, 2:06:01 UTC

Puns


Some, pun on verbs.
Some, pun on nouns.
Some, drop their H's,
to give different sounds.

Some, frequent pubs,
and order their ale.
Others, at sports-bars,
are found, without fail.

Goals are the same,
for those seeking sport:
"Double them over,
don't let them retort!

Cracking a pun,
is jolly-good sport."

* * *

j. r. martin
17 December 2012

*

Ref. "Puns O Fun 24", James Sotherden, for inspiration for this poem.
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Message 1317290 - Posted: 19 Dec 2012, 19:42:21 UTC

Ice cold Whisky


Summer was the season
when he took the ride.
Women were the reason,
whisky was the slide.

Living for the action,
till it took him down.
Crawled into his bottle
and let us watch him drown.

Sometimes in the evening,
before the moon goes down,
before the dark is leaving,
I see him hanging round.

So I watch the shadows
and I stop and think
until he wades into the shallows
and gets himself another drink.

Certain things we can't explain,
we all have our attraction
and then the man became insane,
whisky was his crime of passion.



Julie Detavernier (2012)


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Message 1318857 - Posted: 22 Dec 2012, 16:53:01 UTC

Hopefully, this is a first-time submission:


Veritas


Do you know how people die,
When they have lost a precious soul?
Do you see the rainbow's end,
midst distant hills and darkened sky?

Do you hear the sparrow's song,
And wish your life had not gone wrong?
Have you ever wished for sleep,
amidst the rushing winds, at night?

Pots of gold, at rainbow's end
are unattainable for men.
Sparrows' songs sung cheerfully,
are based not on eternity.

Yet, they sound of hope, at last,
when sleep does come . . .
we breath our last.

* * *

j. r. martin
14 December 2006

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Message 1318984 - Posted: 22 Dec 2012, 22:10:22 UTC

Beautiful poem, Jim:)
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Message 1319160 - Posted: 23 Dec 2012, 3:57:31 UTC - in response to Message 1318984.

Thanks, friend. :o)

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Message 1319386 - Posted: 23 Dec 2012, 19:22:53 UTC

When it rains


When it rains like this,
I start to think through,
how life would be
if you were here too.

When it rains like this,
and I hear the thunder,
are you ever here with me?
It just makes me wonder...

Then a rainbow appears,
breaking through the rain.
And I realize that
Life is worth the pain.


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1319633 - Posted: 24 Dec 2012, 15:27:18 UTC

A Bouquet of Rememberances


I cannot tell you how it feels
to gather flowers from a field,
Arranging them quite lovingly --
Each one, a person, who's love me.

Each one, unique, with destiny
now realized; it's up to me
to hope a loved one is of mnd
to add my blossom, when it's time.

I hope it gives as much delight
as my arrangement pleased my sight.
Each gave me reason to believe
that unity was destiny.

A myriad of destinies --
of life, and death, eternity.

* * *

j. r. martin
12 January 2005

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