An Adonis-like youth
Your son’s age
Runs past you in the sun
You are not even tempted to lust
About any part of him
But find yourself wishing you had
His perfect
Knees
His enviable
BMI.
A metaphysical mugging narrowly averted
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Category Archives: Poetry
The Servant King
Isaiah 42:1-4 (NIV)
“Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
my chosen one in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit on him, and he will bring justice to the nations. [2] He will not shout or cry out, or raise his voice in the streets. [3] A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness he will bring forth justice; [4] he will not falter or be discouraged till he establishes justice on earth. In his teaching the islands will put their hope.”
Stop all the clocks (funeral blues)
First of all, I have to confess, I love Auden but disliked Four Weddings and a Funeral. Until tonight I thought this was an autobiographical poem, not a song piece written for a larger work.
I love all the words. I love the heart and passion of this poem which is so integrally Auden. And it seems so essential that it is he being mourned, not she.
Again, the truth we have to face: the sentiment Auden expresses here is so lovely and profound, how can it be dismissed out of hand?
It can’t. We have to acknowledge that this is a heartbreaking poem of irrevocable love and loss.
I know plenty of straight guys who could learn a few things from Auden.
Normally this is the point in my writing where I would head for a wrap up–state an opinion, back it up with something and then conclusion–voila!
But I won’t today.
Today I just want to say out loud how lovely this anthem of love and grief is. It means something to me–floats in my geriatric repository of words lovely in their truth.
How about you?
What do you think of this complex genius? His body of work and life? And love? He says some amazing things about love…
The Hell of Words
Once
When you were still a boy
I walked with you
Into cool water in a dying light
No deeper than your waist
Although the gulf itself
Stretched for miles
Out forever
When I draw words for hell
I get them from Sartre
Not Jesus
Or Dante
Like lighting a match
To draw fire
This room is airless enough
The faces of it’s inhabitants
Never vary/a rictus of pain
I wonder…
Are you as afraid as I am
Of the little things
That last
Forever?
And the possibility
That there will be
No way out.
After the Dry Season
Used to
Take it for granted–
Rain come down
But now I don’t.
When the sky darkens
I hold still
Lightning snakes
Across the sky
I rejoice
Thunder calls out
The name of God
Alive still in the world
Rain falls
And I take nothing for granted
Splendor falls in a million pieces
Of refracted light
Makes gray avenues live
Each drop happy patter
From impossible clouds
Trees solemn in waiting
Doze above this parched earth
Gathering in it’s hands
Luminous pools
Of water
Covering
Isaiah 28:20 (NIV)
The bed is too short to stretch out on, the blanket too narrow to wrap around you.
I maintain
That poetry
Is what prophets write
When ordinary warnings
Fail
Prophesy
How you will be
Good
Preach to me
About tomorrow
Whether it will rain
And we will all
Be swept away
By all the things we never said
Before the invention
Of the rain
-bow.
Isaiah 25
Isaiah 25:8,11 (NIV)
he will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove the disgrace of his people from all the earth. The Lord has spoken. [11] They will spread out their hands in it, as a swimmer spreads out his hands to swim. God will bring down their pride despite the cleverness of their hands.
Kept having the same dream
The water be gone
I look for it
Missing
Watch it pour down
Look to the clouds for rain
Plead to the Lord
Rain.
Rain come down
Wash my sin away
Give me the hands
To spread through
The water
The pool
Source of the
Girl I once was
Fireflies
John 19:1-3 (NIV)
Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged. [2] The soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head. They clothed him in a purple robe [3] and went up to him again and again, saying, “Hail, king of the Jews!” And they struck him in the face.
Fireflies in the dark
Defined our early years together
Not the constant noise
Or social ostracism.
No.
Fireflies
More beautiful than
The man-made fireworks
We craned our necks to see
When you were that pesky
Little girl
He was already ahead of you
Closer to prison
Farther from the boy
I must find to love him.
Sometimes, I promise you
The only poetry here
Is in
every careless word
Missing
From our story.
I once
I once lived in a country with high
Beautiful walls
Stone/mud/concrete
But most of all
Jagged glass
Broken/beautiful
Like a crown of pain
Stained glass warnings
Don’t come any closer
Danger.
Beware of dogs?
How do you say “Doberman”
In this other language
I knew a dead man who taught me this
And a boy I always loved
And feared
Who knew the future…
There Is more than one way
To die/to maim/to rape
A country/a people/a family/a man-woman-child
But one way for sure
Is to look the other way
When it is happening to them
And hope their blood appeases
Men trained like dogs for war.
Rain Song
Once
There was the statue
Of a girl
Standing arms outstretched
Poised/face lifted
To reach the rain
Receiving Grace
I looked for her again
Years ago
They had taken her away
I am crying/she is missing
And all I can do is call to her
Come back
My heartbreaking daughter
Come back to the Garden
Of stones alive and flowers
Blooming now
The rain has come
Carrying Light 