THE
ABSENCE OF ONIONS
to
journey into oneself to view
one's own psyche and therein
render judgments upon which
the outward journey is thus assured
may lead to selfishness
and
this must be avoided as is
too much pepper in the pot.
for
it is a blind alley
a walled-off maze dead end to think
self is All self is Total.
self is one among all others and to be sure
to start at self is good and to be sure
to end at self is sad.
the
prickly searchlight bush sometimes scars
sometimes merely pricks
and one timid in her journeys
will later find the absence of onions
to be far more searing than any
thorny scratch.
for
the time is now to scream at the moon
for the time is now to nibble at mountains
for the time is now to dance arm in arm with giddy
for the time is now to journey into self
and
write in your diary
the glory of onions.
OLD
GIRLS
grey
feathered clouds mount in the distance
bumping into each other like tipsy old maids
at a church social, full of gossip and eager to spill it.
one
by one they fling their skirts
towards the waiting city, prancing unevenly
like children full to bursting
from too much soda pop.
some cannot wait and spray a fine mist on befuddled cows.
most hold their own in dignity until the appointed place is met
and the signal is given.
the
old girls pee and dissolve
and echoes of their laughter rumble over the houses below.
1970
If
tomorrow be but another day
and yesterday is past,
What is left for us to do
but make this morning last?
Graduation
The
sadness of the heart
as partings lay it bare,
can't equal all the love
our memories put there.
Friendship
knows no distance
no hurry, no space, no time.
Though far you'll be in miles,
ever close you'll be in mind.
Fences
I
will build no fences, I will tie no strings.
I will place our love among life's finer things.
I will outwait the longest storm, the weariest of weather.
I will build no fences, until we build them together.
Imagine
my surprise, imagine my defeat,
Imagine my unhappiness at your swift retreat.
Imagine my future journeys undertaken warily,
Knowing now how fences are built involuntarily.
ARBOR
flick
of yellow
was
it bird?
or was it only
yellow heard?
MAN
WITH GENTLE VOICE
Man
with gentle voice and style,
I'd love to love you all the while
Stars did shine and moon did fling
Beams to dance as we did sing
Our song of wonder, song of joy,
Look at you, with face of boy!
To see your eyes light up in love,
To feel your hands around, above,
Entwining me in sensuous touch,
Oh gentle man! I love thee much!
When you sing I feel I hear
An angel sighing in my ear,
So pure I could be quite content
To sleep for eons in your tent,
Wrapped in they arms, so sweet, so sweet,
My life, my love, would be complete!
RAIN
FELL IN GENTLE DROPLETS
Rain
fell in gentle droplets
and toppled from my cheeks.
Chilly wind blew teasingly
and roused up sleepy cheeks.
All
around the rain did rain
on every living thing.
Wind did jig and shout in joy
and tossed my hair with wild fling!
Pretty
rain I love fair well
alighting on my skin.
Fair wind tapped upon my heart,
I saw 'twas you and let you in.
COVER
ME WITH DAISIES
Cover
me with daisies, love,
Paint me head to toe, and don't
You let the people see
Don't you let them know, and won't
You keep my secret safe, dear,
far from strangers there, and should
You find that love is gone
Don't tell me...I scare..and would
You
would
you
would
you...
YOU
COULD
You
could make the sun shine at midnight
If you had it in your mind that's what you really wanted.
You could make the breeze blow backwards
In winter and bring Spring home forever.
And you,
You could make me love you.
TO
SAIL ABOUT
To
sail about in winged craft
reflecting sun to sun
on why this world is as it is
and just whose will is done.
That
is what I'd like to do,
just drift all day with thee.
To be as one with sea and sky
and dwell harbored in serenity.
RUSH
OF CREATIVITY
This
rush of creativity,
this blush of new found thought,
this hush of sensitivity
has all but come to naught.
All
that lingers past the bloom,
preserved in Windexed domes,
all that's left, all that's left,
a smattering of poems.
SWEET
BIRD
Sweet
bird imprisoned in thy cage,
Woulds't bend wires so and flee?
Content thy heart to dwell in peace
In bound security.
MORTAL
MAN
Mortal Man, answer me this:
Is there wine in your every kiss?
Are maidens overcome with bliss
When you their love do snare?
Cupid
alone suits the call
Of one who can be beloved by all.
His faults are nil; his failings small,
Think you that you compare?
SUNDAY
SEPTEMBER NOON
I
think of a Sunday September noon
With the sun, and the breeze, and you.
And I remember how it used to be,
When time was young and I was free,
With the pale sky as our testimony
To the love I once took for true.
It
ended quickly, I remember that.
You stole quietly away, leaving me
To mourn for the love I was denied,
To count the nights I wept and cried,
To resign to a fate I must abide,
To remember what used to be.
Come
again and see how things are now,
Come and see how my life is run
By memories of long ago,
Of my dear love-heart's sunny glow,
Overshadowed by the loneliness snow,
Our love refuses to be done,
my sweet,
We cannot, why should we, be done?
