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excerpt from "the country of marriage"
II Corinthians
noah
White Magic
Dream Maker
from The Second Coming
Before Dawn in October
a borrowed poem
from LOTR
from "Age is Better"
safe harbor
Idol
the journey
jami - dragon tamer - 2001
An Ode to Ms. Young
the writer
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EXCERPT FROM "THE COUNTRY OF MARRIAGE"
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“...our life reminds me of a forest
in which there is a graceful clearing
and in that opening a house,
an orchard and garden,
comfortable shades, and flowers,
red and yellow in the sun,
a pattern made in the light
for the light to return to.
The forest is mostly dark,
its ways to be made a new
day after day,
the dark richer than the light
and more blessed,
provided we stay brave
enough to keep on going in.”
-- Wendell Berry
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II Corinthians
4:16-18
Therefore we do not lose heart.
Though outwardly we are wasting
away, yet inwardly we are being
renewed day by day. For our light
and momentary troubles are
achieving for us an eternal glory that
far outweighs them all. So we fix our
eyes not on what is seen, but on
what is unseen. For what is seen is
temporary, but what is unseen is
eternal
II Corinthians 4:16-18
noah
Take your light
from the moon instead; accept it
as a loan, repay it in another life.
All things were made to catch illumination,
all shadows made to clarify, all days
and nights to give a shifting balance
to an earth made for your senses -
even in a starless night, the other side
of it still breathes for you, the twilight
is still laughing, still waiting,
holding the joy of you in its hands.
-- noah grey
(for more of Noah just go check him out!)
White Magic
August 1972
Under a late sun, with a wry smile,
Christ-like, bare arms straight out,
She calls silently to white butterflies
Who one by one jitter to her warm brown skin.
August 2002
Flowing freely, the same smile
Greets God’s tiny messengers.
The young woman suddenly stops
As one flits and flirts around her.
"Hello, old protector,” she whispers.
“I thank you for what I see
When I look you in the eye…
God’s love …yes, God’s love for me!”
-- Dad, August 12, 2002
Dream Maker
Dream Maker
A new late night romance
Entered my wayward dream
And stole my heart away!
All past loves now asleep,
This new lover took me
Completely by surprise.
His soft voice called my name
And Midas-like his touch
Turned my dream to gold.
He called my name again
And spread his arms for mine;
Then my arms reached for his.
With early dawn my eyes
Flew open with a start.
I lay with pounding heart.
Then I called out to him:
"Jesus, I know you're there
To share your perfect love."
"Thank God for dreams at night
That bring this truth to me:
His love can make me free."
-- Dad, july 20, 2002
from The Second Coming
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
-- excerpt from The Second Coming by W.B. Yeats
Before Dawn in October
The window frame catches a draft
that smells of dead leaves and wet street,
and I wrap my arms around my knees,
look down on these small breasts,
so my spine forms a curve as perfect
as the rim of the moon. I want to tell
the man sleeping curled as a child beside me
that this futon is a raft. The moon
and tiny star we call sun are the parents
who at last approve of us. For once,
we haven’t borrowed more than we can return.
Stars above our cement backyard are as sharp
as those that shine far from Brooklyn,
and we are not bound for anything worse
than we can imagine, as long as we turn
on the kitchen lamp and light a flame
under the pot, as long as we sip coffee
from beautiful China-blue cups and love
the steam of the shower and thrusting
our feet into trousers. As long as we walk
down our street in sun that ignites
red leaves on the maple, we will see
faces on the subway and know we may take
our places somewhere among them.
-- Julie Kasdorf
a borrowed poem...
I'm past the point of going
quietly insane.
I'm getting quite
noisy about it.
The neighbors must think
I'm mad.
The neighbors, for once,
think right.
-- Peter McWilliams
from The Lord of the Rings
I sit beside the fire and think
of all that I have seen,
of meadow-flowers and butterflies
in summers that have been;
Of yellow leaves and gossamer
in autumns that there were,
with morning mist and silver sun
and wind upon my hair.
I sit beside the fire and think
of how the world will be
when winter comes without a spring
that I shall never see.
For still there are so many things
that I have never seen;
in every wood in every spring
there is a different green.
I sit beside the fire and think
of people long ago,
and people who will see a world
that I shall never know.
But all the while I sit and think
of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
and voices at the door.
---- Bilbo Baggins, The Lord of the Rings
from "Age is Better"
I have been young,
A fresh faced sprout,
With agile legs, a muscled arm and smile
To charm the world I went through
In a rush to get a little older, sooner.
Catching my reflection while passing past
A looking glass, not long ago
I discovered I was older, even old. There was
No sudden melancholy or regret, and yet
Some sadness in the wonder that it happened
While I wasn't watching...
-- Rod McKuen
safe harbor
Oh, the comfort - the
inexpressible
comfort of feeling safe
with a person - having
neither to weigh
thoughts nor measure
words, but pouring
them all right out, just as
they are, chaff and
grain together; certain
that a faithful hand
will take and sift them,
keep what is worth
keeping, and then with
the breath of kindness
blow the rest away.
Idol
Looking up to your warm hearted smile
thinking nothing but you are my idol.
I want to be able to be you,
I want to do the things you do.
You cheer me up when I'm down.
You make me smile and take my frown.
Before I'd mope around in fear,
but now I know that you are here,
To make me happy when I'm sad.
To cheer me up when I'm mad.
--- Lisa K, 1995
the journey
one day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice -
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
but you didn't stop
you knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with it's stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancoly
was terrible.
it was already late
enough, and a wild night.
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
but little by little
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the streets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
the only thing you could do -
determined to save
the only life that you could save.
----- Mary Oliver
jami - dragon tamer - 2001
Although my daughter Jami has fought her share of demons,
Winning some major battles with them, I should add!),
I have discovered something about her that I have never known;
She can tame non-lethal small dragons with a loving gentle touch.
When we were walking from the rose garden toward our car,
The discovery unfolded before my eyes in the cold Florida sun.
Spotting the little guy (?) unmoving as tho dead on the sidewalk
She smiled, knelt, and magically caressed him back to life!
--- van young, 2001
An Ode to Ms. Young
i thought i was going to get a "B",
imagine how thrilled i was with an "A",
wouldn't it be nice if joe got a "D"?
jim's famous quote is "how are ya today?"
ms. young is sad because she won't be back,
wherever she goes i wish her success.
her algebra knowledge will never slack,
after she leaves there will be a big mess.
chris and jess were the coolest of the bunch,
when you come back you'll see all our progress.
someday we will have to meet you for lunch,
we wish you one thing and that is this bless...
good luck Ms. Young in every endeavor,
you are so cool, we'll miss ya forever!
-- chris and jess, payton - 2001
the writer
In her room at the prow of the house
Where light breaks, and the windows are tossed with linden,
My daughter is writing a story.
I pause in the stairwell, hearing
From her shut door a commotion of typewriter-keys
Like a chain hauled over a gunwale.
Young as she is, the stuff
Of her life is a great cargo, and some of it heavy:
I wish her a lucky passage.
But now it is she who pauses,
As if to reject my thought and its easy figure.
A stillness greatens, in which
The whole house seems to be thinking,
And then she is at it again with a bunched clamor
Of strokes, and again is silent.
I remember the dazed starling
Which was trapped in that very room, two years ago;
How we stole in, lifted a sash
And retreated, not to affright it;
And how for a helpless hour, through the crack of the door,
We watched the sleek, wild, dark
And iridescent creature
Batter against the brilliance, drop like a glove
To the hard floor, or the desk-top,
And wait then, humped and bloody,
For the wits to try it again; and how our spirits
Rose when, suddenly sure,
It lifted off from a chair-back,
Beating a smooth course for the right window
And clearing the sill of the world.
It is always a matter, my darling,
Of life or death, as I had forgotten. I wish
What I wished you before, but harder.
--- Richard Wilber, The Writer
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