POEMS BY MEMBERS
SONNET OF NECESSITY
When I remember how the brook so clear
ran rambling through the forest where we were,
I wander there again and hear the sound
and walk with wind and memories around.
A sycamore stood silent by the stream,
its golden girth more than my outstretched arms
could measure, smooth bark rippling in the gleam
of water running by. Old mellow farms
lay green beyond the forest's boundary
in sunlight on the path that beckoned me.
With all the twists and turns it led me through
this sonnet lost its sequence wandering too.
Now I look out on a tall ginko tree
as foreign here as my life seems to be.
MARK ANTONY AND
THE FALL FROM
is what one does
for heavenís sake,
then dyingís due
who knew her,
like one who studies ancient wonders,
who draws his finger
inch by inch
across a marbleís
rounded crests and folds,
across the flanks and ribs
of her hieroglyphic soul.
She was full,
as paradise was,
But no historyís ever
quite this true. For,
amidst even robust delights,
oneís face, her brow, yours,
a momentís wanting more than
this nubile queen, this noble you,
this Niled place,
the fall in her
the fall in all.
beyond the shadows.
Asphalt bubbles in July,
and cattle ponds
yield to sun.
As little water
becomes no water,
in search of deep.
I do not challenge summer
on days like this.
I stick to shade
and poise myself
for passing wings
that will give me breeze.
I wrap myself
wraps the sun.
Then, night allows me|
a shedding of the green.
To God be glory,
Honor in grace,
Trust in faith,
Holy in redemption,
The Deity in life,
Rejoice in His ways,
They are righteous
Justice for all men.
Merciful in grace,
His goodness is
Divine in holiness.
Receiving our praise,
Inspiring in worship,
Turning our words
Into sweet savory,
From His glory.
NOTE TO A POET
Five-foot tall octogenarian,
your eyes crinkle with age and laughter.
You're a true Victorian wonder,
a writer of sober sonnets,
inventor of the humorous Lil Ann.
You use your stove, never a microwave;
type poems on a typewriter, never a computer;
style your hair with gel, never a curling iron.
Though you'll try to teach us,
you know more about formal poetry forms
then we'll ever began to master.
October has arrived.
A few brown leaves mar the beauty
of her cloudless, azure skies.
Now, green summer leaves change,
revealing the vibrant colors
that have been hidden within.
Only in these final days
will they display the fire
and passion that sustained them
during the summer days,
as they nurtured, shaded, and protected
"their tree"--their connection
to "all that is."
Embracing the gusting winds,
they are released to indulge in
a graceful, gliding, dipping, diving dance
as they race toward rest and renewal . . .
fall's final, flamboyant celebration.
October leaves her gift.
ZEN AT NIGHT
We make a perfect yin-yang design
sleeping together like two spoons
Our cat is the black dot
curled up in the half-moon shape
by my chest
Our dog is the white dot
curled up in the other half-moon
by your legs
All we need is a round bed
MY BACKYARD TREE
A fall evening on the porch,
the temperature that twice a year's just right.
The back yard tree fills my field of vision
with ripe reds and outrageous oranges,
the colors so extreme I think
the tree must ache in its altered state.
Does it know nakedness lies just ahead?
Does it hoard its power
for the burst of green to come?
Our lives cycle onward at nature's mercy,
less under our control that we think.
AN AUTUMN MINUTE
The autumn beauty's everywhere--
in fragrant air,
bronzed wheat in sheaves,
sun-burnished pastures stubbled gold,
a visual banquet unsurpassed,
a rich repast.
All senses share
fall's love affair.
BETRAYAL IN PARADISE
how I fell in love with you
when we first met!
You seduced me with your fronded shadows,
dazzled me with your sultry sunlit joy,
caressed me with your salty breeze.
Northern gloom fell from my pale limbs,
slid to my sandaled feet,
when sloughed like snake-skin
Florida, when we met,
life danced anew
with your exotic tempo teasings
tapping at my heart.
My freshened spirit winged high
into your blue noon sky,
sailed through your flaming sunsets,
surfed your crashing waves.
Oh, but then . . .
your tempest raged!
I feel like a yo-yo on a short string,
One minute Iím high as a bird on the wing
But then someone gives this yo-yo a throw
And down on the bottom, Iím lower than low.
One minute Iím up, one minute Iím down,
Bobbing through life hardly touching the ground.
Spinning and spinning I go round the world
Redundantly like a pendulum twirled.
Elated Iím like a man on a trapeze
I reach for the moon, split the atom with ease
But double or nothing, a tidal waveís drumming
And over the falls, rock bottom is coming.
Ride round the corner and this sleeper awakes
On lifeís roller coaster without any brakes.
Loop the loop, breakaway, grab the yo-yo, then chuck it,
Once superman, now a drop in the bucket.
Iím sinking, Iím rising, I float up, I fall
Up and down on my string, never stopping at all.
And if you are wondering wherein my mood lies
Itís low to the ground or way up in the skies.
OL' COLLEGE TRY
I signed up
But just for a degree
Iím really not interested
In much educationally
Iíll attend a function or two
So long as you know
The reason I attend
Is only for show
I guess you probably think
Your work is a gift
But I is I
And Iím surely not missed
Since I just want an A
And your tasks are not fun
I think, Jesus, Iíll find
Another instructor for Life 101
Marie Smith of Anchorage, Alaska,
in an interview with the AP
said fifty to ninety percent of languages
will be dead at the end of the century.
It takes 100,000 speakers
to keep a language, noted Marie,
to keep it passing from generation
to generation effectively.
Think of it this way, Marie put it,
every two weeks a language dies,
and our world, linguistically speaking,
is much poorer for its demise.
Thousands of them have died already,
and half remaining are barely alive
with fewer than 2500 speakers--
some have only four or five.
Eyak, for example, has
one speaker, only one,
and with her dies her language--
no other person speaks it, none.
Marie gave this AP interview
not in English but Eyak instead,
and since no one could interpret it,
who knows what on earth she said?