Poems
MAY 22, 2016
These are some of my early poems. Most of those writings were gifts to family, friends, and love interests. I rarely kept copies. I will post more early works as they become available.
RwriterN : The writer inside
A poem of life after tragedy
In the garden of my dreams
***********************
You came to me through dappled sunlight
In the garden of my dreams.
You took my hand, you led me,
Walking slowly, silently, deeper still
Into the magic of those visions that once
Had been our home.
You sat with me.
You touched my face, a tender touch,
The way you had so many times before.
You smiled.
And when you kissed me, a tender kiss,
Not unlike the first time our lips had met,
I thought to desire you again.
You brushed the hair from my eyes.
A bird sang, a gentle song, both
Sweet and sad.
I looked into your eyes and saw
What had been, what is, what will never
Ever
Be again.
I thought to be sad, and then
You leaned forward,
Your forehead touching mine.
Our eyes, a giant cyclops vision and
We laughed, just as we once had done.
You whispered in my ear.
I heard the word and knew its meaning.
My eyes closed on their own.
When I awoke, the word again sounded
In the voice I’d known and loved.
I was able to release your hand.
I still wander into the garden of
My dreams.
The dappled sunlight falls upon the place
You once had been.
And I smile, remembering your word to me,
As I go forth to
Live
An early poem for a young love
Young Love
**************
No flower could ever hope to be as beautiful as you
No work of art could ever match your grace
And all my life I hope to be enraptured in your love
And every morning wake to see your face.
A poem written in the light of an early winter fireplace
Wolves In The Dark
*************************
Maiden dear, oh maiden dear, thy cherry lips and flaxen hair
they call to me and bring me near, true beauty's strong desire.
Oh sir, away, my day is taken, obligations, unforsaken
duty is my part today, my master is away.
Oh maiden dear, then thou art free, be loosed to seek my pleasuring
Come taste my lips and with you bring your passionate embrace.
Your lips so sweet, your touch so warm, my masters children --
no alarm, my love, I've sent them out to play, come taste me once again.
Oh maiden dear, away I'm bound, and with me take the joy I've found
within your maiden's whispered sounds of love and warmest touch.
Oh sir into the distance ride, now fading from a watchful eye,
the morning passed, unfettered by the cares of passing time.
Oh maiden dear, oh maiden dear, where be those left in thy care?
Gone from home and lost they are, pray that they return.
Oh maiden dear, go search the vale, search the forest and the hills,
those that though shouldst kept from ill, pray for their return..
Maiden dear, a wolf does lurk, soon the sky above turns dark,
find they charges, they are marked, pray that they return.
Maiden dear, the wolf is howling, to thy charges it is nearing,
yonder look in forest clearing, run you must be swift.
Maiden dear, thy time is late, charges thine in lupine fate,
interlopers, lupine rage, run you must be swift.
Maiden dear, your charges fallen, darkest angel will be calling,
now to you the wolf is turning, run you must be swift.
Maiden dear, thy loves embrace, too soon forgotten is his face,
shelter, safety, desperate race, the victor has its prize.
Maiden dear, oh maiden dear, gone are those left in thy care,
and now lost and gone you are, to never love again.
Sonnets 1, 2, and 3 are recent poems written on a whim one Saturday morning before breakfast. I enjoyed the form in my studies at UGA and like both the structure and the freedom it allows
Sonnet 1 : Petrarchan (Italian sonnet)
********
Oh simple man, go forth in innocence
To take thy place with others of thy ken
And wait the coming of the moment when
Coy maidens will abandon temperance
Or ‘til that coming day find sustenance
In knowledge freely giv’n by God to men
Small tastes of sweetness never are a sin
When sipped from founts that offer no offense
True virtue often comes from bolder hearts
Than any offered up by godly fools
Whose lips speak lies, whose thoughts do bind men’s hands
And disallow a touch that can impart
Great joy to those who seek the subtle jewel
Which offered freely comes without demands.
Sonnet 2 : Shakespearean (English sonnet)
********
The boy, he sits alone and wonders why
In all the world no other understands
Despite the strongest effort he can try
Alone he sits, alone he’ll always stand.
The girl, too shy to offer any words
The boy, she sees him sitting all alone
No rush to him to tell him thoughts unheard
No gift of tenderness ‘til now unshown
The clock, it dances in its steady course
The time, forgiving none a chance unseized
The two, a maker’s match, a love unforced
They part, their strongest longing unappeased.
Oh bless that coming day they’ll find their chance
And ne’er give any other love a glance.
Sonnet 3 : Mixed sonnet (Italian + English)
********
In fields of green beneath sun brightened skies
The maiden fair does never find her joy
For all her dreams are rested on the boy
Who smiling, saw her once through soft blue eyes.
Her lot in life will never be his own
His masters bidding fills his every day
This boy with eyes of blue must always stay
Within the shadows of the grinding stone.
Within his heart her visage burns and roils,
Her smile to him a maiden’s silent bond
The look he gave, his love on her bestowed.
Poor miller’s son, go forth to work and toil,
Thy maiden tastes her bread on tables donned
In majesty that you will never know.
A poem, written for my grandmother when I was fourteen, that helped me win class superlative for Creativity in Writing
For Grandma
*****************
Our lives are but a circle,
a never ending line,
and all the things that we once knew
we'll know again in time.
The friends that we have cherished,
The ones that we've held dear,
We may lose them all but deep within
Our memories bring them near.
Our lives may quickly pass us by,
our thoughts confused, unclear,
But quiet moments bring us
every instance, every year.
Yes, our lives are but a circle,
a never ending line,
and every happiness we've ever found
we'll know again, in time.
A poem written to honor two of my favorite writers of children's books: Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein
It Was Still Early
*****************
It was early in the day
The time of day when most girls of just three
were still fast asleep
holding pooh bear or teddy or
bounce the ball Betty
It was early.
It was early in the day
The time of day when most boys of just five
their dreams coming alive
would think it quite fun to just
run run run run
It was early
It was around noon
The sun overhead shining down on a girl
her hair all awhirl
with the boys looking on
in the bright mid-day sun.
It was noon.
It was around noon.
The sun overheard giving light to the lad
who looked at the girl
with her hair all awhirl
in the wind and the sun.
It was noon.
It was getting late.
The sun far in its course sees the woman, of course,
As she lies down, stands up, sits back, enjoys
despairs crying out, crying in
walking on toward the end.
It was late.
It was getting late.
The man tries to ignore the sun far in its course,
And he shouts to the sun "I still need to run,
my course is not done,
my prize is not won!"
It was late.
It was early in the day.
The time of a day when old women and men
take their final naps
when young girls and young boys,
holding bears running laps,
they all become one before breaking of sun
and dawning of day before watching and lying
and standing and shouting on high
Why? Why? Why did I miss, did I gain,
did I catch, did I fall,
did I really do any old thing at all...
...and the man and the woman, the boy and the girl
they look to each other, a sweet smile of knowing,
it isn't too late or too early for whirling
or watching or lying or standing or running
it isn't too late for pooh bears or ball bouncing,
it isn't too early for finding a prize.
They saw all of these things in each others eyes.
A poem written at a Halloween party after several glasses of punch and a dare
With Apologies To EAP
As I pondered weak and weary, In my chamber, very dreary,
Looking at a picture that I’d taken long before
I began to think about and wonder, “How could I have made this blunder?
Marrying a woman that her parents named Lenore?”
Only this and nothing more.
Sitting in my lazy rocker, thinking to myself “Well Fock her”
Knowing I could not throw curses at she whom I’d adored.
Staring at the picture over, twas Lenore sprawled out in clover
Gads what ugly features on her face did she adorn
Pugugliness and nothing more.
Then a rapping noise was sounding, twas my door that was resounding
Someone in the hall was pounding, pounding at my chamber door.
Lifting up the latch I ope’d it and my vision dashed all hope that
My dear love was still the one I’d married long before
Was indeed my wife Lenore, but what I saw was something more.
Twas Lenore and two young sailors and the pounding was but tailor’s
Buttons sewn upon the bustle of the dress that she had worn.
Looking at my face she stated, “Hello Ed, I know I’m late, but these
Two men were lonely and I couldn’t lead them on.”
And from her face my eyes were drawn.
Laughing I pulled out my pistol and dispatched their Seaman’s whistles
Watching them fall gingerly upon the hallway floor.
And to Lenore two words were wiser than the gold of fifty misers
Saying softly “Little whore” I quickly closed the door.
Oh, and yes, saying “Nevermore”.
A poem written after a mid-winter storm played havoc with nature and the home of an albino squirrel I'd nicknamed Rocky
A Winter Storm
****************
Narrow fingers clasped their lives,
Holding tightly, prayerful
Mother, Father, shivering close,
Wind was blowing, baleful
Storm approaching, winter cold,
Rain was falling, chilling
Could the lives within thin grasp
Keep a faithful waiting?
Terror filling beating hearts,
Fastly pacing, ever
Letting go of life a thought,
Ent'ring their minds, never
Tossed about their home became
Nature's plaything, helpless
Snuggling closer, holding tight,
Riding windstorm's largesse
Standing, watching, without words,
I am helpless, disarmed
Ne'er before I wanted more
Sciuridae nest, unharmed.
I Think About These Things
The way you look as you pass by,
You, and him, and her, and them.
I wonder what you ate
Where you slept
What you saw when you woke this morning.
I think about these things.
Does your leg hurt as you move past?
Do you see?
Do you know?
Do you care that I am hurting
As you pass by?
I think about these things.
If I could stand and run and jump
And play. I used to play.
I used to…
Do you even know I’m here
As you pass by?
I think about these things.
I’ve tried to smile as you pass by.
I’ve hoped and thought,
if I was better you’d look
And come to help me
As I hope and wish and cry inside.
I think about these things
As you pass by.