Across time and space
My love remained
I tried to replace
But I should have known
So much has changed
We both have grown
Yet so much still remains the same
Your smile, your laugh
The way you care
You try to seem
So unaware
Of all the things
That put you past
All the others who thought they'd last
You're so much more
Than you believe
And I'm so much more
Than I can see
And together
We can do Anything 

 

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand
singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning,
or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work,
or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day- at night the party of young
fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

 

I want to get up early one more morning,
before sunrise. Before the birds, even.
I want to throw cold water on my face
and be at my work table
when the sky lightens and smoke
begins to rise from the chimneys
of the other houses.
I want to see the waves break
on this rocky beach, not just hear them
break as I did all night in my sleep.
I want to see again the ships
that pass through the Strait from every
seafaring country in the world-
old, dirty freighters just barely moving along,
and the swift new cargo vessels
painted every color under the sun
that cut the water as they pass.
I want to keep an eye out for them.
And for the little boat that plies
the water between the ships
and the pilot station near the lighthouse.
I want to see them take a man off the ship
and put another up on board.
I want to spend the day watching this happen
and reach my own conclusions.
I hate to seem greedy-I have so much
to be thankful for already.
But I want to get up early one more morning, at least.
And go to my place with some coffee and wait.
Just wait, to see what's going to happen.

 

How many nights
have I lain in terror,
O Creator Spirit, Maker of night and day,

only to walk out
the next morning over the frozen world
hearing under the creaking of snow
faint, peaceful breaths...
snake,
bear, earthworm, ant...

and above me
a wild crow crying 'yaw yaw yaw'
from a branch nothing cried from ever in my life.

 

Can I hear you
Can I hear you sing a poem without value
other than to you
Can you sing to me another one of your poems pleas
for it doesn't seem like i can sing them for i have no voice
can you sing me a song which pervades into the depths of my soul
giving me one of the many things i desire to have
for i cannot sing for myself
perhaps you can write a poem without words
and write it for me
because a poem of such value
would be suiting for someone like me
who has no words of his own

 

Lord Whoever, thank you for this air
I'm about to in- and exhale, this hutch
in the woods, the wood for fire,
the light-both lamp and the natural stuff
of leaf-back, fern, and wing.
For the piano, the shovel
for ashes, the moth-gnawed
blankets, the stone-cold water
stone-cold: thank you.
Thank you, Lord, coming for
to carry me here-where I'll gnash
it out, Lord, where I'll calm
and work, Lord, thank you
for the goddamn birds singing!

 

She Walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

 

Torn between two lovers

Hearing her sweet voice on the line
brings out deep feelings so divine
In his minds he sees her radiant eyes
of emerald green clear as the skies
Her long blond hair, shiny and soft as silk
Smooth velvet skin an ivory shade, like milk
Her words make him feel special, so alive
And into the ocean of love and lust he dives
feeling guilty for the girl that lives with him
But being with her made his world grow dim
He is in love with the lady that captured his heart
who made him feel king of the world from the start

 

In some sense, it could be argued a category about Life is a vague, nebulous cop-out. Any poem ever penned by Man or Woman would surely gain ready admittance here. All poems, almost by definition, are about Life.

But don't, for a moment, think that makes this category any less important. On the contrary, if the poems and topics you are about to explore are about Life, then they are also about you.

No one person can ever experience all that life has to offer. It is only through sharing - experiences, feelings, insights - that we can hope to grow beyond our own meager lifetime. Are you ready to grow today?

Let the countdown begin.

A Kiss Poem

A peach is a peach
A plum is a plum
A kiss isn't a kiss without some tongue
So open your mouth,
close your eyes,
and give your tongue some exercise.