' Live-Poets Society ' – A Corner For Poetry

[northie]

Tried something else new over the summer and am now revisiting the form - a sevenling. I've posted my two original attempts here:   https://gayauthors.org/story/northie/re-verse/9 

[AC Benus]

I ran into someone new to me this afternoon. I think you'll agree his poetry is pretty amazing.

"I know peace

when I let go."

Spoon Jackson

http://realnessnetwork.blogspot.com/p/home.html

[Black Paper]

Plans II

 

These plans are in your hands.

You hold the ability to mold,

Your future into one that is pure.

You may, any day, even today display,

Your work that you have done,

And, show how you have won.

You are the one.

You don't have none.

You have many.

You have plenty.

You are a star.

You are and can go far.

Never look back at what was black.

Hold your plans and laugh how it expands.

Forget the dark.

Remember the light.

Get delighted and excited for what can go right

Why do you think I write?

I know what it feels like.

To be surrounded by what you dislike.

I was there, too.

That is why I gave this book to you.

It is yours.

It is ours.

At all hours, we will share this book because I care.

Hold it during your warfare.

May this binder be a reminder that you can succeed.

Faith is all you need.

Don't stop going.

Don't stop climbing.

And, it will all be showing.

While this book is always rhyming...

[Mikiesboy]

On 12/18/2019 at 3:36 PM, AC Benus said:

I ran into someone new to me this afternoon. I think you'll agree his poetry is pretty amazing.

"I know peace

when I let go."

Spoon Jackson

http://realnessnetwork.blogspot.com/p/home.html

quite amazing  xoxo

[Parker Owens]

I posted three new poems for early January. If you're interested, you can find them here... https://gayauthors.org/story/parker-owens/disasters-delights-and-other-detours/62#comment-410314

[Mikiesboy]

Though i am struggling at the moment ... i hope some poets decide to write for the Spring Anthology!   All are welcome. Please consider it as it would be great to see more poetry offered.

To read more about the Spring Anthology, please visit here.

[northie]

42 minutes ago, Mikiesboy said:

it would be great to see more poetry offered.

Yes, indeed. It's eye-opening what can be produced from the themes. @Parker Owens Voyageur was amazing, for one. 

[Mikiesboy]

I have been reading @AC Benus' book, The Thousandth Regiment. 

These are AC's translations of Hans Ehrenbaum-Degele's war poems, and is wonderful!

Thanks for it AC! I know a lot went into this labour of love. These are beautiful, soulful translations. 

Edited January 18, 2020 by Mikiesboy

[AC Benus]

On 5/20/2017 at 7:23 AM, AC Benus said:

...picture it.... 6:38 this morning.... my brain still half-asleep....

Handles of Convention

I should work the levers of invention,

Twist those knobs of wordplay, and pull the flange,

To solve the great riddle of convention

That no one can find a rhyme for 'or-range.'   

 

in a similar light...

 

Crimes in Rhymes –

 

You’ll find a dearth of words that

Rhyme with ‘Earth,’

And an achy phalange in your hand seeking

A match for ‘Or-Range.’

 

Because you’ll need to tail the feathers of

A dove if you wish to rhyme with ‘Love,’

And be prepared to find none-th

If you aim to end your line

on the day of a ‘Month!’

 

 

 

 

   

Edited January 21, 2020 by AC Benus

[Mikiesboy]

2 hours ago, AC Benus said:

in a similar light...

 

Crimes in Rhymes –

 

You’ll find a dearth of words that

Rhyme with ‘Earth,’

And an achy phalange in your hand seeking

A match for ‘Or-Range.’

 

Because you’ll need to tail the feathers of

A dove if you wish to rhyme with ‘Love,’

And be prepared to find none-th

If you aim to end your line

on the day of a ‘Month!’

 

 

 

 

   

I love-th this!

[AC Benus]

I jotted (most) of this down yesterday, and organized it a bit this morning. I'm not sure my message is coming through though...

 

Every thought I have appears to revolve

Through the mire of emptiness back to this:

Whatever issue big or small I solve,

Mood and mind are beyond analysis.

There are times I chance to wake and see

My dog dreaming peacefully at my feet,

And wish his brand of naturalness for me

When his sleep-tail wags for all he might meet.

But in my head, concepts swirl most confused,

Not trusting those who love or hate in kind,

Shutting down former parts of me amused

To glibly fool emotion undefined.

As Shakespeare said, to wake perhaps to dream,

For in truth, we must be more than we seem.

 

     

 

[MichaelS36]

33 minutes ago, AC Benus said:

I jotted (most) of this down yesterday, and organized it a bit this morning. I'm not sure my message is coming through though...

I admit I am not all that good at finding meanings .. but I feel there is a message here. You speak of your dog.. they are honest, live for today and do not mourn the past or worry about the future. They love nearly everyone, but you can trust them, they will are good judges of character.  We don't always do such a good job at reading people as dogs do. 

So, are you feeling there are those you do not trust, or cannot trust as you wish you could?  Perhaps, you wish for a simpler life, a simpler way of being, with people who are open books?

I am sure I'm most likely completely wrong. 

[AC Benus]

7 hours ago, MichaelS36 said:

I admit I am not all that good at finding meanings .. but I feel there is a message here. You speak of your dog.. they are honest, live for today and do not mourn the past or worry about the future. They love nearly everyone, but you can trust them, they will are good judges of character.  We don't always do such a good job at reading people as dogs do. 

So, are you feeling there are those you do not trust, or cannot trust as you wish you could?  Perhaps, you wish for a simpler life, a simpler way of being, with people who are open books?

I am sure I'm most likely completely wrong. 

Thank you, Mike. In poetry and other writing I've learned there is no right or wrong when it comes to interpreting meaning. Each reader's experience with the piece is valid. With this poem, I have a couple more motivators for writing it than you suggested, but all the points you mentioned are part of it too. You're right about dogs living in the moment and being excellent judges of character. People can live too much in the past or future, and I'm guilty of that.

Anyway, there are no wrongs, so I truly appreciate you sharing your thoughts on the poem Thanks again  

[MichaelS36]

1 hour ago, AC Benus said:

Thank you, Mike. In poetry and other writing I've learned there is no right or wrong when it comes to interpreting meaning. Each reader's experience with the piece is valid. With this poem, I have a couple more motivators for writing it than you suggested, but all the points you mentioned are part of it too. You're right about dogs living in the moment and being excellent judges of character. People can live too much in the past or future, and I'm guilty of that.

Anyway, there are no wrongs, so I truly appreciate you sharing your thoughts on the poem Thanks again  

I guess we all stray to the past or future sometimes … sometimes we go back and wish things had been different. The important thing, I guess is not to stay in either place too long. 

[AC Benus]

 

Heaven

 

Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June,

Dawdling away their wat'ry noon)

Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear,

Each secret fishy hope or fear.

Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond;

But is there anything Beyond?

This life cannot be All, they swear,

For how unpleasant, if it were!

One may not doubt that, somehow, Good

Shall come of Water and of Mud;

And, sure, the reverent eye must see

A Purpose in Liquidity.

We darkly know, by Faith we cry,

The future is not Wholly Dry.

Mud unto mud! -- Death eddies near --

Not here the appointed End, not here!

But somewhere, beyond Space and Time.

Is wetter water, slimier slime!

And there (they trust) there swimmeth One

Who swam ere rivers were begun,

Immense, of fishy form and mind,

Squamous, omnipotent, and kind;

And under that Almighty Fin,

The littlest fish may enter in.

Oh! never fly conceals a hook,

Fish say, in the Eternal Brook,

But more than mundane weeds are there,

And mud, celestially fair;

Fat caterpillars drift around,

And Paradisal grubs are found;

Unfading moths, immortal flies,

And the worm that never dies.

And in that Heaven of all their wish,

There shall be no more land, say fish.

                                               Rupert Brooke

 

 

 

 

 

Edited February 24, 2020 by AC Benus

[Parker Owens]

@AC Benus I loved this poem. It reminds me of something my family might recite. 

[Mikiesboy]

16 minutes ago, AC Benus said:

There shall be no more land, say fish.

                                               

Loved it. Made me smile. Thanks, AC!

[Wayne Gray]

This one made me smile, in spite of his unknowing ... I particularly like the last line.

Edited February 25, 2020 by Wayne Gray

[Mikiesboy]

16 minutes ago, Wayne Gray said:

This one made me smile, in spite of his unknowing ... I particularly like the last line.

Interesting poem. I like it. Thanks for posting here for us.

[Parker Owens]

1 hour ago, Wayne Gray said:

This one made me smile, in spite of his unknowing ... I particularly like the last line.

I enjoyed reading this one. I have felt this sometimes. 

[northie]

A radio current affairs programme I listen to regularly has started giving a spot to something completely unconnected to the news. (It did so at the latter end of last year as well.) Here's today's choice:

To My Sister
by William Wordsworth

It is the first mild day of March:
Each minute sweeter than before
The redbreast sings from the tall larch
That stands beside our door.

There is a blessing in the air,
Which seems a sense of joy to yield
To the bare trees, and mountains bare,
And grass in the green field.

My sister! ('tis a wish of mine)
Now that our morning meal is done,
Make haste, your morning task resign;
Come forth and feel the sun.

Edward will come with you, -- and, pray,
Put on with speed your woodland dress;
And bring no book: for this one day
We 'll give to idleness.

No joyless forms shall regulate
Our living calendar:
We from to-day, my Friend, will date
The opening of the year.

Love, now an universal birth,
From heart to heart is stealing,
From earth to man, from man to earth:
--It is the hour of feeling.

One moment now may give us more
Than years of toiling reason:
Our minds shall drink at every pore
The spirit of the season.

Some silent laws our hearts will make,
Which they shall long obey:
We for the year to come may take
Our temper from to-day.

No sun hereabouts, and any countryside is like a quagmire, but the poem's lovely. 

[AC Benus]

.

This is a haunted world. It hath no breeze

But is the echo of some voice beloved:

Its pines have human tones; its billows wear

The color and the sparkle of dear eyes.

Its flowers are sweet with touch of tender hands

That once clasped ours. All things are beautiful

Because of something lovelier than themselves

Which breathes within them, and will never die —

Haunted — but not with any spectral gloom;

Earth is suffused, inhabited by heaven.

Lucy Larcom

 

[Lyssa]

1 hour ago, AC Benus said:

.

This is a haunted world. It hath no breeze

But is the echo of some voice beloved:

Its pines have human tones; its billows wear

The color and the sparkle of dear eyes.

Its flowers are sweet with touch of tender hands

That once clasped ours. All things are beautiful

Because of something lovelier than themselves

Which breathes within them, and will never die —

Haunted — but not with any spectral gloom;

Earth is suffused, inhabited by heaven.

Lucy Larcom

 

That is wonderful. Thank you for sharing.

It's time for poetry, because it makes us all feel more human. In our errors, in our fears but also in the ability to create beauty and communication of love. Muha 🙂

[Mikiesboy]

5 hours ago, AC Benus said:

.

This is a haunted world. It hath no breeze

But is the echo of some voice beloved:

Its pines have human tones; its billows wear

The color and the sparkle of dear eyes.

Its flowers are sweet with touch of tender hands

That once clasped ours. All things are beautiful

Because of something lovelier than themselves

Which breathes within them, and will never die —

Haunted — but not with any spectral gloom;

Earth is suffused, inhabited by heaven.

Lucy Larcom

 

this is lovely ... like fresh air blowing through the house in spring ...  it brings calm and beauty to a fevered and restless mind.   thank you ... the last few days, i've had need of poetry... thank you, AC xoxo

[Parker Owens]

16 hours ago, AC Benus said:

.

This is a haunted world. It hath no breeze

But is the echo of some voice beloved:

Its pines have human tones; its billows wear

The color and the sparkle of dear eyes.

Its flowers are sweet with touch of tender hands

That once clasped ours. All things are beautiful

Because of something lovelier than themselves

Which breathes within them, and will never die —

Haunted — but not with any spectral gloom;

Earth is suffused, inhabited by heaven.

Lucy Larcom

 

This is such a welcome poem. It evoked for me the sense of these deserted days and hours when so much of our human world is in retreat. It’s now that we can sense the haunting the poet speaks of.