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Weekly Poems from Poems for Free: A Retirement Poem and More

admin — Sun, 20 Mar 2011 06:34:19 +0000

Weekly Poems from Poems for Free: A Retirement Poem and More

NO ONE JUGGLED TIME AS WELL AS YOU

No one juggled time as well as you,
Interweaving literature and law,
Nor served as long and well, nor rendered to
Our students so much life as in your store.
Favors were your pleasure; ease, your grace.
Although you did much, much of what you did
Lay unobserved, so leisurely your pace,
Careful to keep agita well hid.
Over forty years you taught of beauty,
No less for love than conscientious duty,
Embracing with a zest your time and place.

TOUGH AND LOVELY

Tough and lovely, to see my child gain
What personality she will assume,
Each bit and gesture worked on year by year,
No stopping till the character is clear.
Tough and lovely, to see the child remain
Yet underneath the mask that is her doom.

Only slowly does the child disappear,
Not needing me to kiss away all pain,
Entering alone the darkened room.

IN MANY WAYS, IT’S AS IF I LAST SAW YOU

In many ways, it’s as if I last saw you
Recently, the image is so clear –
Even your eyes, hidden behind sunglasses on the pier;
Nor does it take much to restore you
Exactly, as if once again you were here.

A WEDDING IS A PARTY

A wedding is a party with,
Of course, a wedding cake.
But sometimes by the time it comes,
It’s hard to stay awake.

People need to talk a lot,
And laugh and joke and kiss,
And cry – why do they cry? – and mention
God and love and bliss.

Two people have decided that
They’ll share one house for life,
And call themselves, instead of friends,
A husband and a wife.

And so we have to get dressed up,
And eat a lot, and wait
For hours till they finally serve
The great big wedding cake.

TO THE FOUNDING FATHERS

Your light still lingers in our distant morning,
A star that we perceive across the void.
We chart our passage by your words, still burning
Long after your bright core has been destroyed.
No longer do we speak of “natural” rights,
Nor can we think that Reason guides our will.
We’ve been through far too many gruesome nights
To hope we have reduced our lust to kill.
Yet hope remains the engine of our fire,
Hope that someday all of us will be
Happy in the least that we require:
Well-fed, well-housed, safe, secure, and free.
This dream we still pursue. Though darkness come,
Your wisdom, hope, and courage through us run.

HAPPINESS COMES FROM CHOOSING HAPPINESS

Happiness comes from choosing happiness,
As love’s the consequence of choosing love.
Perhaps all angels shall the weaker prove,
Pinned by those whose fortunes they must bless.
Yet some must make their choice under duress,
Salvaging the unspent sweetness of
Each moment that across their sea might move,
Vivid in the wake of its caress.
Endurance is no name for an embrace,
Nor is one’s joy much kindled by one’s fury.
There is but death and illness in the offing;
Eventually, all life ends in pain.
Even so, love touches life with grace,
Not vested in the verdict of the jury,
Transforming what would else have little meaning,
Happily engaged again, again.

A CHILD IS THE GREATEST GIFT

A child is the greatest gift
That our lives can bestow.
It brings the most exquisite joy
That we will ever know.

Some days deliver happiness,
Far more than we can touch.
We need the help of all our friends
To comprehend how much.

And so we thank you for the gifts,
Both those you brought and are,
That celebrate this rich, full life
And its rising star!

Nicholas Gordon is a poet and the webmaster of the popular poetry site, Poems for Free at http://www.poemsforfree.com. He holds a Ph.D. in English and American Literature from Stanford University. For most of his working life, he taught English at New Jersey City University, in Jersey City, NJ.

Article from articlesbase.com

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Weekly Poems: A Poem About Death and More

admin — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 07:57:14 +0000

Weekly Poems: A Poem About Death and More

YEARS TURN THE PAGES; THE BOOK REMAINS

Years turn the pages; the book remains.
No one can see the life it contains.
The story is over; it sits on a shelf
Outside of time, complete in itself.
Ah! Could we know! But never we will.
Now it is sealed, silent and still.

CHRISTMAS REALLY ISN’T ABOUT TOYS

Christmas really isn’t about toys,
However much we love them, young and old.
Reductions in the fat of Christmas day
In time restore its vigor and its health.
So let us not display our absent wealth,
Though children should have ample chance to play.
More sweet and joyous music must be sung,
And thoughts of peace and mercy make their way
Silent and uncluttered through the noise.

CHRIS AND I WENT OUT AWHILE BACK

Chris and I went out awhile back.
It didn’t work–I really don’t know why.
Some unacknowledged dream was out of whack,
Went spinning off, and so we let it die.
Sometimes we attribute things to fate
When it’s us, though we won’t notice it.
Chris and I are back again–it’s great!
We’ve both changed, and now we seem to fit.
I can’t explain the happiness I find:
Chris smiles at me and something makes me glow.
Mysteries on mysteries unwind;
The deeper in we see, the less we know.
For now I think I’ll just enjoy the ride;
Love Chris to bits, but still keep watch inside.

HAPPINESS DEPENDS ON LIGHTING LIGHTS

Happiness depends on lighting lights,
As what one does without reflects within.
People plead the poignance of their plights,
Pleased to play the hapless harlequin.
Yet one must purify the sacred temple,
Haul the lamps up, clean them, set them out,
Acting to await the miracle,
Neither seized by fear nor free of doubt.
Underneath all miracles is faith,
Knowing not, but hoping what might be,
Kindled by the will, though pain and death
Assault with darkness all that one can see
Here, where all is here miraculously.

HAPPINESS IS RARELY MELODY

Happiness is rarely melody
As other voices jockey for the lead.
Perhaps it is most comfortable with bass,
Pleased to underline the others’ grace,
Yielding to intensity and need,
Holding up a fragile harmony.
On holidays, however, it becomes
Less self-effacing, stepping forth to sing,
In moments filled with labor, love, and longing,
Deep descants on the beauty of belonging;
After which, again retiring,
Yet not before the harried heart takes wing,
Softly it blends into what strain comes.

SHOW ME ALL THE BOUNTY OF YOUR GIVING

Show me all the bounty of your giving:
Each cornucopia spills out in vain
As some of the sweet happiness of living
Sinks deep into a dry and dusty plain.
Of labor and of love there is no ending,
Nor can we ever pocket our reward.
Some tender that we’re tempted into spending
Goes for gifts that others can’t afford.
Remember that the Earth’s a single sea,
Equable in what one takes and gives.
Each act redeems its value naturally,
Taking grace from everything that lives.
In giving there is rich and varied treasure,
Nor more nor less than taking’s vivid pleasure,
Granting ample joy to those who care,
Subject to what pain they choose to share.

HAPPY NEW YEAR! TO THOSE WHO WILL HAVE NONE

Happy New Year! To those who will have none,
A wish that knows too well it cannot be.
Perhaps one ought not wish so futilely;
Perhaps one ought, that such not be alone.
Yearning is the price one pays for hope,
Nor can one hope unless one would endure.
Each futile wish makes paradise more sure,
Widening the world’s supernal scope.
Yet there are those who find such wishes cheap,
Easy substitutes for sacrifice.
A wish for good is more than merely nice,
Restoring winds that stir the unguent deep.

I am a poet and webmaster of the popular poetry site, Poems for Free, at http://www.poemsforfree.com.

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Weekly Poems from Poems for Free: A Retirement Poem and More

Weekly Poems: A Poem About Death and More

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