Monday, November 26, 2012

To The Young Anglerfish By Kay Ryan

google.com



For now and for the next 400-plus generations,
the hornlike symptom on your brow
will itch and be subject to irritation.
At that point it will begin to resemble a modification,
useful for tricking food. It will at last begin
to do some good.
Meanwhile, the problems of life enhance:
an awkwardness attends the mating dance
and an inexplicable thoughtfulness
at the wrong moments.
That part of you that is pledged to the future
abstracts you in some way from nature
with the small n. You feel a
comical budding power, and
then you don't again.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Music Rains As Hungry Minds Perform on Strings....



Musicians are birds,
but the stage is not taxed,
Players practice to get ready,
The conductors are leaders,
Cheerful notes burst
out of strings
or drum surfaces
under the waves of hands,
Tightened chests relax,
The sound of togetherness flies,
The sky rains
with audiences feeling pleased,
Thunder loud claps of joy...
The passionate squeeze
of the bows,
The shared joy
of messages,
in forests
and in classrooms
that everyone has imagined,
love connects
and magic impresses
under the singing breeze:
Jeremy Woolstenhulme,
Gene Moon,
John Schimek,
and Scott Adam Wojciech...

Image Credit: Google.com, Stillwater News Press, and NCHO program sheet, plus Bill William Raun's website....

Monday, November 12, 2012

Alone


 (苍蝇 =Fly =Cang ' Ying)

I can be
left alone
by myself,
I was
lonely alone,
Now I'm lonely
with you.
something is wrong,
There are Flies
everywhere
I go...
they make me
feel like vomiting...

Monday, November 5, 2012

Sea Canes (Inspired By Derek Wallcott)





google.com



Some of my childhood friends are dead.
Besides memories and stories,
Nothing more can be done to that.
.
at times, I may snatch their words
from the vague surf's drone
through the canes, yet it's impossible
.
to undo everything,
Walking on the dark leaves of ocean
down the colorless road alone
.
The sea canes by the cliff appear green and silver,
They were the seraph lances of my faith.
out of what's missing grows something stronger.
.
I would have learned to love black days,
The black rain, the white hills, while once
I loved only my own happiness, and you.


Hyde Park Thursday Poets Rally Week 76: October 31-November 7, 2012