Miscellaneous Archive~~Page 4This particular archive just grows and grows (like a river flows). I've been having to go out on my own to hunt up poetry because you, the reader, aren't. That's all right though. Just remember, if you want to see a poem I haven't put up in the Corner, just email me the poem or the URL where it can be found. Thanks!
~~KatBack to Page 1
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Index
"slavery"
slavery is not about suffering ...
... slavery is about service.
slavery is not about humiliation ...
... slavery is about humility.
slavery is not about pain ...
... slavery is about being present.
slavery is not about being used ...
... slavery is about being of use.
slavery is not about control ...
... slavery is about letting go.
slavery is not about your desires ...
... slavery is about giving to others.
slavery is not about abuse ...
... slavery is about acceptance.
slavery is not about proving anything ...
... slavery is about being real.
slavery is not about contempt ...
... slavery is about respect.
slavery is not about how you look ...
... slavery is about how you care.
slavery is not about denying yourself ...
... slavery is about being open.
slavery is not about punishment ...
... slavery is about discipline.
slavery is not about being unable to escape ...
... slavery is about being committed.
slavery is not about submission ...
... slavery is about obedience.
slavery is not about fear ...
... slavery is about trust.
slavery is not about sex ...
... slavery is about love.
slavery is not about pleasure ...
... slavery is about happiness.
~~david stein
Top
"No Coward Soul of Mine"
No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere :
I see Heaven's glories shine,
And Faith shines equal, arming me from Fear.
O God within my breast,
Almighty, ever-present Deity !
Life, that in me has rest,
As I, undying Life, have power in Thee !
Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men's hearts : unutterably vain ;
Worthless as withered weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,
To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by Thy infinity,
So surely anchored on
The steadfast rock of Immortality.
With wide-embracing love
Thy Spirit animates eternal years,
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.
Though earth and moon were gone,
And suns and universes ceased to be,
And Thou wert left alone,
Every existence would exist in Thee.
There is not room for Death,
Nor atom that his might could render void :
Thou -- THOU art Being and Breath,
And what THOU art may never be destroyed.
~~Emily Bronte
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"The Lady's Yes"
" Yes !" I answered you last night;
" No !" this morning, Sir, I say !
Colours, seen by candle-light,
Will not look the same by day.
When the tabors played their best,
Lamps above, and laughs below --
Love me sounded like a jest,
Fit for Yes or fit for No !
Call me false, or call me free --
Vow, whatever light may shine,
No man on your face shall see
Any grief for change on mine.
Yet the sin is on us both --
Time to dance is not to woo --
Wooer light makes fickle troth --
Scorn of me recoils on you !
Learn to win a lady's faith
Nobly, as the thing is high ;
Bravely, as for life and death --
With a loyal gravity.
Lead her from the festive boards,
Point her to the starry skies,
Guard her, by your truthful words,
Pure from courtship's flatteries.
By your truth she shall be true --
Ever true, as wives of yore --
And her Yes, once said to you,
SHALL be Yes for evermore.
~~Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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"Fire and Ice"
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
~~Robert Frost
Top
"Dulcinea"
dulcinea: [Female]
The Poet
He stayed to himself
Everyday
Quiet
In the back of the coffee shop...
He ordered his espresso
And would concentrait on it
Deep
And dark
As was his personality...
A somewhat
Melancholy aurora
Surrounded his undescrible
Shadowy
Beauty...
Expressing himself
Without verbal explainations
dulcinea: [Female]
He could do so
By the way he carried himself~
But he went beyond
Into the world of words
Formed together
In a sometimes slow
Thoughtful process
At other times
Rapid and ragged...
His thoughts and feelings
Scribbled across a dirty napkin...
The underneath of his arm...
Whatever he found first
dulcinea: [Female]
The one in the back of the coffee shop
With dark hair and deep eyes
As was his espresso...
Searching for an explanation
Not of the world around him
But of the world
Smoke rings floated across the room
Throughout the gloom
Whispers followed
I professed my love to him
He pretended not to care
[end]
~~(no clue)
Top
"the lesson of the moth"
i was talking to a moth
the other evening
he was trying to break into
an electric light bulb
and fry himself on the wires
why do you fellows
pull this stunt i asked him
because it is the conventional
thing for moths or why
if that had been an uncovered
candle instead of an electric
light bulb you would
now be a small unsightly cinder
have you no sense
plenty of it he answered
but at times we get tired
of using it
we get bored with the routine
and crave beauty
and excitement
fire is beautiful
and we know that if we get
too close it will kill us
but what does that matter
it is better to be happy
for a moment
and be burned up with beauty
than to live a long time
and be bored all the while
so we wad all our life up
into one little roll
and then we shoot the roll
that is what life is for
it is better to be a part of beauty
for one instant and then cease to
exist than to exist forever
and never be a part of beauty
our attitude toward life
is come easy go easy
we are like human beings
used to be before they became
too civilized to enjoy themselves
and before i could argue him
out of his philosophy
he went and immolated himself
on a patent cigar lighter
i do not agree with him
myself i would rather have
half the happiness and twice
the longevity
but at the same time i wish
there was something i wanted
as badly as he wanted to fry himself
~~archy
Top
"Importance of One"
One song can spark a moment,
One flower can wake the dream.
One tree can start a forest,
One bird can herald spring.
One smile begins a friendship,
One handclasp lifts a soul.
One star can guide a ship at sea,
One word can frame a goal.
One vote can change a nation,
One sunbeam lights a room.
One candle wipes out darkness,
One laugh will conquer gloom.
One step must start a journey,
One word must start each prayer.
One hope will raise our spirits,
One touch can show you care.
One voice can speak with wisdom,
One heart can know what's true,
One life can make the difference,
You see, its up to you!
Top
"The Dream"
In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed--
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.
Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?
That holy dream--that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.
What though that light, thro' storm and night,
So trembled from afar--
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth's day-star?
~~Edgar Allan Poe
Top
"Confide in a Friend"
When you're tired and worn at the close of the day
And things just don't seem to be going your way,
When even your patience has come to an end,
Try taking time out and confide in a friend.
Perhaps they too may have walked the same road,
With a much troubled heart and burdensom load,
To find peace and comfort somewhere near the end,
When they stopped long enough to confide in a friend.
For then are most welcome a few words of cheer,
for someone who willingly lends you an ear.
No troubles exist that time cannot mend,
But to get quick relief just confide in a friend.
~~(Author Unknown)
Top
Pardon the load time, but this was important. A friend's mother passed away, and this was written in the last two hours of her life. I feel that this poem/outpouring of heart deserves to be seen in its original format.
~~Brian Kerr, for his mother
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"Twenty-Three Years Old"
Dubno, my cherished home, my life
today I leave you, not by choice, but by force
never to return to your serenity, your familiar nooks
to wander the day's passing through the streets
feeling the embrace of the sun's warmth
the quaintness of the open market
witnessing the spring, the imminent blossoming greenery
the fragrances of the fields
the altering canvas of leaves in autumn
sketching on the frosted windows of my home in winter.
Winter, winter has come and unconcerned itself with
it's hold over the birth of spring
winter has come in the form of a cold steel hardened
behemoth with no heart or conscious
it has crushed the old Europe of legends
and craves for the fresh blood of my Ukraine
like a wolfpack tracking it's prey
wearing it's victim down by the hunt
then cornering it, pouncing upon the trodden beast
tearing it to minced shreds, and then devouring it.
The synagogue has been charred and cindered
the people I knew and grew with, all of them, are taken away
hurried away to oblivion
never returning, never finishing what they began
never to see the full fruits of their labor
for all their toiling, nothing accomplished, nothing remains
like fine clockwork the behemoth systematically
prods us to our demise, the end of life
"Dear God, pull us from this torturous grind,
indeed, better not to have been born at all."
In the not to far distance, I hear the murderous sound
of a single gunman, taking life without provocation
We are compelled to remove our raiment
as if this will keep us from being harmed, we comply
in neatly laid piles we place them
resembling fresh laundry, to be tucked in drawers
our jewelry taken and collected
assorted according to it's value and content
any memory, script, tangible piece of evidence
showing we were here is taken and lost, purposely.
In small groups we are led away to the pits
where the resonant noise of automation, drains life from us
we are dead, but do not yet know it
a meager sliver of hope still clings to us
we are closer now and I can see the pits
dug hastily, and brimming with freshly laid corpses
some still grasping to life, by a thin worn thread
only to be extinguished by a suffocating earthen cover
This is where I will fall, this is my passing
no marker, no memory, no tomorrow, no second chance, no escape.
I will fall before God's eyes like the dead leaves of a tree
of no or little value, except that of mulch
without a trace of my existence, without any remembrance
"Dear God if we cannot be saved from this horror,
then give us some sort of perpetuation"
quietly, unseen, immortality sits at a junction
that only I can see, unpronounced and hidden
hidden from the behemoth, blinded with his rage
how sweetly fate has come to me
offering this macabre chance to alter the scene set before me.
A sole being, unattached to the mayhem
not serving as fodder or fuel
he holds no weapon, bears no sign of slavery
his face is wrought with confusion
as he peers at this hellish scene
a witness to the onslaught of flesh
he is here, only by chance
guided by unforeseen time and circumstance
a man, not of hate, but of necessity
necessity for his work, and my continuance.
Soon I will pass in full view
I will come close to him, not to beg for help
for help is beyond his means, and mine
but close enough for him to see
to see me, and to hear me
to remember, to burn an image in his mind
to last a lifetime, to evoke this horror
into his psyche, for him to recall
so that I may continue
not as the flesh, but as the spirit.
The behemoth sends us onward
and now the dazed figure's eyes see mine
I stare him down, but keep his sight fixed upon me
his face pales from the realization
that I do not run from this hopelessness
closer still, even now he can see the clear outlines
of my nakedness, without shirking away
I create infinity to his gaze
and choose the words to instill myself
that will fetter to his brain.
I speak..."Twenty-three years old."
I do not stammer, as I point to my self
and I see his faces struck with awe
he has been endowed with my memory
not by choice, but by force
never to forget the quiet dignity
that which I walked passed him
as if it had been merely a spring day
and we exchanged social greetings
forced to see the ravaged dead and dying
and those yet to die, this is his legacy.
Hung like a master's painting in a museum
preserved for his lifetime, yet always nagging
tearing at the fabric of himself
and the damn wretched society that dares
to call itself righteous, and just
always to conflict with what he thought good
and distort his mind with the myriad
of souls swallowed by the behemoth's pit
driving him from normalcy
to madness, and speak, compellingly of this tragic finale.
Because of this, the mighty behemoth
has failed, and failed miserably
for jagged barb will never touch my flesh
harsh labor will not wear my body down
camp guards will lose the chance to rape me
hunger pains cannot enter my stomach
mental anguish will not posses my thought
Mengele's 'SS' shall never see me tortured for morbid delight
intimidation has failed to affect me
slow degradation of life in a camp, has been denied.
The death camps reach are gone
I have won a small victory over the behemoth
because of the memory I leave with this man
I walk to Gehenna without loss of stride
for today I will die, with my family
my father, mother, brother and sisters
in a twinkling of an eye, we will fall
fall deep into death, asleep from this insane place
"Dear God, let him remember!"
"Dear God, make him remember!"
Father talks to my brother
about something in the sky
mother holds us close
with tear swelled eyes
and I stand looking where the man is now
soon it will be over
we will exist no more
our lives destroyed by a vacant being
with no truth or moral just raw blind hate
soon now, soon, very soon.
Soon now...we stand at the edge
Soon now...(Achtung!)
Soon now...I hear the machine pistol's bolt
Soon now...I, my family, our village
Soon now...will be dead
Soon now...(Richten!)
Soon now...he will remember
Soon now...he will remember
Soon now... he will remember
Soon now...(Feuer!!)...
"Dear God in heaven, she was just twenty-three years old!"
~~James Badinger - 02/13/1999
Top
"My Special List"
I have a list of folks I know...
all written in a book,
And every now and then..
I go and take a look.
That is when I realize
these names... they are a part,
not of the book they're written in...
but taken from the heart.
For each Name stands for someone...
who has crossed my path sometime,
and in that meeting they have become...
the reason and the rhyme.
Although it sounds fantastic...
for me to make this claim,
I really am composed...
of each remembered name.
Although you're not aware...
of any special link,
just knowing you has shaped my life...
more than you could think.
So please don't think my greeting...
as just a mere routine,
your name was not...
forgotten in between.
For when I send a greeting...
that is addressed to you,
it is because you're on the list...
of folks I'm indebted to.
So whether I have known you...
for many days or few,
in some ways you have a part...
in shaping things I do.
I am but a total...
of many folks I've met,
you are a friend I would prefer...
never to forget.
Thank you for being my friend.
~~unknown
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"Looking Through the Eyes of the Elderly"
(conveniently submitted in large type)
COULD YOU TELL ME WHERE I AM
AND WHAT DAY IT IS?
MY MIND SEEMS TO BE FAILING ME
AND HAVE YOU SEEN MY KIDS?
WHERE EXACTLY AM I?
THIS IS NOT MY HOME!
EVERYTHING IS STRANGE AROUND ME,
AND I FEEL SO ALL ALONE.
JUST TALK TO ME A MINUTE,
HELP ME CATCH UP WITH MY LIFE.
LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY KIDS,
AND MOST OF ALL MY WIFE
IT SEEMS AS THOUGH I HAD IT ALL,
AND TIME HAS SLIPPED AWAY.
NOW I CAN HARDLY WALK,
AND MY MIND,WELL ITS HARD TO SAY.
GETTING OLD IS NOT MUCH FUN,
I FEEL I'VE LOST MY DIGNITY.
AND I DEPEND ON TOTAL STRANGERS,
TO BE TAKING CARE OF ME!
I GUESS I'LL JUST KEEP PRAYING,
BECAUSE THE LORD IS ON MY SIDE.
IF YOU CAN'T GROW OLD GRACEFULLY,
TRY TO AT LEAST KEEP YOUR PRIDE.
ONE DAY I'LL BE WITH MY WIFE,
AND THE ALMIGHTY UP ABOVE.
BUT FOR NOW, IF YOU HAVE THE TIME
COULD I PLEASE JUST HAVE A HUG?
~~Melissa Moyer
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"Women's Rights"
You cannot rob us of the rights we cherish,
Nor turn our thoughts away
From the bright picture of a "Woman's Mission"
Our hearts portray.
We claim to dwell, in quiet and seclusion,
Beneath the household roof,--
From the great world's harsh strife, and jarring voices,
To stand aloof;--
Not in a dreamy and inane abstraction
To sleep our life away,
But, gathering up the brightness of home sunshine,
To deck our way.
As humble plants by country hedgerows growing,
That treasure up the rain,
And yield in odours, ere the day's declining,
The gift again;
So let us, unobtrusive and unnoticed,
But happy none the less,
Be privileged to fill the air around us
With happiness;
To live, unknown beyond the cherished circle,
Which we can bless and aid;
To die, and not a heart that does not love us
Know where we're laid.
~~Annie Louise Walker
Top
"relief"
relief...
filled with such pain
an ending
even as i'd already
begun
again
to love again
to realize
the revelations
before my eyes
and relief it floods
tears my heart
and tears of blood
from wounds do pour
but now
my soul
relieved
again can soar
yet turning still
seek your eyes
only to find
deceipt and lies
yet none were truer
than your words
it's my own ears
twisted
what heard
and now i reach
again my hand
again to hold
and understand
but together shall we walk
as friends
and put away
the dreams that end
open up
again our hearts
and find the dreams
that life will start
take this hand
my love so deep
and know that as
our dreams do sleep
no matter where
our paths may lie
you're in my heart
each breath and sigh
and when i sleep
your dreams still come
and memories
won't be undone
~~Jennifer Floyd
More?
Top
"A Passage Through"
Staring out farmhouse windows,
waiting for that plane to land,
you read the flight board,
but didn't see your destination.
Funny, I was there, and you trembled
like an eighteen year old sent away
to college, barely aware of what
was to come. Hat and gloves clung ready
to face winter and the cold that would rush
across the fields. The walls shook.
You knew why. I knew why.
Imagine bottling that air for safe
keeping; I guess you tried.
But the mountains were too expensive
to buy, the plains
outside the city, cheaper,
affordable. You really should have left that day
and flown and flown. I was ready to go,
but we just looked out the window.
Neither of us stepped on the plane.
~~Bill Trudo
Top
"All the Things Before the Pictures that I, not the Camera, Saw"
The moon is a big, jolly fellow,
blushing low to the right,
streaking cool silver highlights
for the parking lot, empty.
The stores are closed at 4:00 A.M.
I walk south down Ashland
to the subway stop at Division,
holding my rosary of memory
as I pray to silent-speaking beauty,
the broken glass along the sidewalk.
There's a place that sells only Marlboro,
and the Currency Exchange boasts
in neon "We're always open."
Yes, you are. I walk by, down stairs,
past gang signs and a fading mural
to the rattling Blue Line that ushers me
to downtown, the soon-to-begin sunrise.
The mostly empty streets click together
below lit skyscrapers, inspiring polka-dot
gazes in the absence of rushing people.
The sky melts from black
to purple clouds tiptoeing above the city.
I buy a cup of coffee and wander
towards the lake, watching birds rise
from the night's slumber,
in flocks circling trees. Lake Shore
stretches headlight-busy, as I cross,
hear the boats bob in the water,
and I wait for the sun, with my camera,
to snap pictures.
~~Bill Trudo
Top
"Rabbit of the..."
The wind is blowing, blowing over the grass.
It shakes the willow catkins; the leaves shine silver.
Where are you going, wind? Far, far away
Over the hills, over the edge of the world.
Take me with you, wind, high over the sky.
I will go with you, I will be rabbit-of-the-wind,
Into the sky, the feathery sky and the rabbit.
The stream is running, running over the gravel,
Through the brooklime, the kingcups, the blue and gold of spring.
Where are you going, stream? Far, far away
Beyond the heather, sliding away all night.
Take me with you, stream, away in the starlight.
I will go with you, I will be rabbit-of-the-stream,
Down through the water, the green water and the rabbit.
In autumn the leaves come blowing, yellow and brown.
They rustle in the ditches, they tug and hang on the hedge.
Where are you going, leaves? Far, far away
Into the earth we go, with the rain and the berries.
Take me, leaves, O take me on your dark journey.
I will go with you, I will be rabbit-of-the-leaves,
In the deep places of the earth, the earth and the rabbit.
Frith lies in the evening sky. The clouds are red about him.
I am here, Lord Frith, I am running through the long grass.
O take me with you, dropping behind the woods,
Far away, to the heart of light, the silence.
For I am ready to give you my breath, my life,
The shining circle of the sun, the sun and the rabbit.
~~Silverweed
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