~ Poem of The Day ~

I thought I would choose a poem to post here daily.
It might be one that I have written or maybe even one
written by another Ageless member.
I invite all of you to comment on these poems and
let us know how the poem made you feel.

If you have a poem that you would like to have in
this thread- just send it to me and I will add it.
It can be one you have written or one written by someone else.

Here is my choice for the first poem in this thread.
I have always liked this one a lot.


<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">But a Short Time to Live

<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">Our little hour, how swift it flies
When poppies flare and lilies smile;
How soon the fleeting minute dies,
Leaving us but a little while
To dream our dream, to sing our song,
To pick the fruit, to pluck the flower,
The Gods -- They do not give us long,
One little hour.

Our little hour, how short it is
When Love with dew-eyed loveliness
Raises her lips for ours to kiss
And dies within our first caress.
Youth flickers out like wind-blown flame,
Sweets of to-day to-morrow sour,
For Time and Death, relentless, claim
Our little hour.

Our little hour, how short a time
To wage our wars, to fan our hates,
To take our fill of armoured crime,
To troop our banners, storm the gates.
Blood on the sword, our eyes blood-red,
Blind in our puny reign of power,
Do we forget how soon is sped
Our little hour?

Our little hour, how soon it dies:
How short a time to tell our beads,
To chant our feeble Litanies,
To think sweet thoughts, to do good deeds.
The altar lights grow pale and dim,
The bells hang silent in the tower
So passes with the dying hymn
Our little hour.

By
Leslie Coulson</FONT>

<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">The Humming-Bird

<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">A route of evanescence
With a revolving wheel;
A resonance of emerald;
A rush of cochineal.
And every blossom on the bush
Adjusts its tumbled head;
The mail from Tunis, probably,
An easy moring's ride.

By
Emily Dickinson
</FONT>

I decided to reach back into one of our poetry threads
and retrieve a poem written by one of our very talented
Ageless members.
I really loved this poem the first time I read it
and felt it deserves to be highighted as our
"Poem of the Day".


<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">I Write Poetry

Perhaps an easier life
than Van Gogh, Serrat, Cassat,
mortgaging house and home
sublimating hunger
for canvas, wooden palettes,
colours squeezed from tubes.

Dependent on morning, noon,
or evening light to
dictate brush-strokes.

I paint poetry
(only pen in hand)
piled-up sentences,
letters heaped
across a page,
solitary self-portraits
made from words.

By
Gillian </FONT>

At the very top of my "Favorite Poems" list-
is this one.



<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">And My Heart Soars

The beauty of the trees,
the softness of the air,
the fragrance of the grass,
speaks to me.


The summit of the mountain,
the thunder of the sky,
the rhythm of the sea,
speaks to me.


The faintness of the stars,
the freshness of the morning,
the dew drop on the flower,
speaks to me.


The strength of fire,
the taste of salmon,
the trail of the sun,
and the life that never goes away.
they speak to me.

And my heart soars.

By
Chief Dan George </FONT>

I have always loved the beauty of this poem.
I hope you like it too....


<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">THE SLIGHTEST MOVEMENT

Sunlight browning slices of apples
The porch paint peeling
Maple syrup oozing from a healthy tree
Branches bending
under the weight of squirrels
Shadows breaking the fall of leaves.

An owl's gaze following
a lesser bird
The dripping consonants of rain
The sex of two flowers creating
The tight blue sheet of the sky
wrinkling after sleep
The slightest movement of my soul
coming to rest at the edge of my body.

Darkness pivoting behind the moon
The fragrance of perennials
seeping through the door
Spring grass with its eager roots--
I too am considering resurrection.
The slightest movement in my mind
preserves me.

By
David Bissonette </FONT>

Wow - thanks Sage for picking one of mine for this thread. I'm honoured.

Gillian

Here is another very nice poem written
by an Ageless member.


<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">Yeux Enchante

Liquid pools of azure sky
flood the windows of the soul.
Mon ame erupts flushed
and fluttered, languishing
each glance, each sigh.


Stored reflections appear and
begin to delicately lace
their fingers through my heart,
assuring me that promises
be kept, that secrets ne’er
will be revealed.


I have seen them gentle, tame,
and meek, seeking the essence
of gentil ciel. Yet, drooping lashes
shadow the dark and distant
clouds perpetually rolling
within the ravished viscera.


I am intoxicated by the masquerade.
Flickering devilkin, behind the seraphic
smile, delight in the duplicity. Still,
the stillness of twilight summons
forgiveness, and alas my heart surrenders.


By
~Guinavere~ </FONT>

Along with poetry, I also love many lyrics to songs.
To me, they are poetry.
Here is one of my favorites.


<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">One Rainy Wish

Golden rose, the color of the dream I had
Not too long ago
A misty blue and the lillac too
A never to grow old.

A there you were under the tree of song
Sleeping so peacefully
In your hand a flower played
A waiting there for me.

I have never
Laid eyes on you
Not before
This timeless day
But you woke and whoa
Smiled my name
And you stole
My heart away
A stole my heart away little girl, yeah
All right !

Golden rose, the color of the dream I had
Not too long ago
Misty blue and lillac too
A never to grow old.

Golden rose, the color of the dream I had
Misty blue and lillac too
Golden rose, the color of the dream I had
Misty blue and lillac too
Gold and rose, gold are rose, gold and rose.

It’s only a dream
I’d love to tell somebody about this dream
The sky was filled with a thousand stars
While the sun kissed the mountains blue
And eleven moons played across rainbows
Above me and you.
Gold and rose the color of the velvet walls surround us.


By
Jimi Hendrix </FONT>

** Lilac is misspelled, but that is how Jimi originally wrote it -
so I like to leave it that way

Some of the most profound poems-
are of little word.

This is one of those......

<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">THE NET

I made you many and many a song,
Yet never one told all you are --
It was as though a net of words
Were flung to catch a star;

It was as though I curved my hand
And dipped sea-water eagerly,
Only to find it lost the blue
Dark splendor of the sea.

By
Sara Teasdale </FONT>

I'd like to dedicate this fine poem to
all the beautiful women of Ageless.


<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.

I say,
It's in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.

I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me


I walk into a room
just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down to their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.

I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.

I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
that's me.


Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.

I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.

I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenol woman,
That's me.


By
Maya Angelou </FONT>

This poem never fails to make me smile....


<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">POST HUMUS

Scatter my ashes in my garden
so I can be near my loves.
Say a few honest words, sing a gentle song,
join hands in a cirle of flesh.
Please tell some stories about me
making you laugh.
I love to make you laugh.
When I've had time to settle, and green
gathers into buds, remember I love blossoms
bursting in spring.
As the season ripens
remember my persistent passion.
And if you come in my garden
on an August afternoon
pluck a bright red globe,
let juice run down your chin and the seeds
stick to your cheek.
When I'm dead
I want folks to smile and say...
"That Patti,
she sure is some tomato!"

By Patti Tana </FONT>

In honor of Memorial Day, I thought this was a
nice poem to showcase...

<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">When I'm Gone

When I come to the end of my journey
And I travel my last weary mile
Just forget if you can, that I ever frowned
And remember only the smile

Forget unkind words I have spoken
Remember some good I have done
Forget that I ever had heartache
And remember I've had loads of fun

Forget that I've stumbled and blundered
And sometimes fell by the way
Remember I have fought some hard battles
And won, ere the close of the day

Then forget to grieve for my going
I would not have you sad for a day
But in summer just gather some flowers
And remember the place where I lay

And come in the shade of evening
When the sun paints the sky in the west
Stand for a few moments beside me
And remember only my best

By
Lyman Han**** </FONT>

*Sorry, the censoring here has messed up the
author's last name.
Just use your imagination I guess.....

<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">THE OPENING OF THE TRUNK

Moment of inner freedom
when the mind is opened and the
infinite universe revealed
& the soul is left to wander
dazed & confus'd searching
here & there for teachers & friends.

By
Jim Morrison </FONT>

Sorry that I missed posting a couple poems.
My computer pooped out on me for a little bit.
All is well now.

Here is a poem that I have always liked.
I hope you do too...

<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">What My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why

What my lips have kissed, and where, and why
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone, I
Only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.

By
Edna St. Vincent Millay </FONT>

This poem is rather long-
but it is beautiful and I hope you find it as
special as I do.


<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">Burning Drift-Wood

Before my drift-wood fire I sit,
And see, with every waif I burn,
Old dreams and fancies coloring it,
And folly's unlaid ghosts return.

O ships of mine, whose swift keels cleft
The enchanted sea on which they sailed,
Are these poor fragments only left
Of vain desires and hopes that failed?

Did I not watch from them the light
Of sunset on my towers in Spain,
And see, far off, uploom in sight
The Fortunate Isles I might not gain?

Did sudden lift of fog reveal
Arcadia's vales of song and spring,
And did I pass, with grazing keel,
The rocks whereon the sirens sing?

Have I not drifted hard upon
The unmapped regions lost to man,
The cloud-pitched tents of Prester John,
The palace domes of Kubla Khan?

Did land winds blow from jasmine flowers,
Where Youth the ageless Fountain fills?
Did Love make sign from rose blown bowers,
And gold from Eldorado's hills?

Alas! the gallant ships, that sailed
On blind Adventure's errand sent,
Howe'er they laid their courses, failed
To reach the haven of Content.

And of my ventures, those alone
Which Love had freighted, safely sped,
Seeking a good beyond my own,
By clear-eyed Duty piloted.

O mariners, hoping still to meet
The luck Arabian voyagers met,
And find in Bagdad's moonlit street,
Haroun al Raschid walking yet,

Take with you, on your Sea of Dreams,
The fair, fond fancies dear to youth.
I turn from all that only seems,
And seek the sober grounds of truth.

What matter that it is not May,
That birds have flown, and trees are bare,
That darker grows the shortening day,
And colder blows the wintry air!

The wrecks of passion and desire,
The castles I no more rebuild,
May fitly feed my drift-wood fire,
And warm the hands that age has chilled.

Whatever perished with my ships,
I only know the best remains;
A song of praise is on my lips
For losses which are now my gains.

Heap high my hearth! No worth is lost;
No wisdom with the folly dies.
Burn on, poor shreds, your holocaust
Shall be my evening sacrifice!

Far more than all I dared to dream,
Unsought before my door I see;
On wings of fire and steeds of steam
The world's great wonders come to me,

And holier signs, unmarked before,
Of Love to seek and Power to save, —
The righting of the wronged and poor,
The man evolving from the slave;

And life, no longer chance or fate,
Safe in the gracious Fatherhood.
I fold o'er-wearied hands and wait,
In full assurance of the good.

And well the waiting time must be,
Though brief or long its granted days,
If Faith and Hope and Charity
Sit by my evening hearth-fire's blaze.

And with them, friends whom Heaven has spared,
Whose love my heart has comforted,
And, sharing all my joys, has shared
My tender memories of the dead, —

Dear souls who left us lonely here,
Bound on their last, long voyage, to whom
We, day by day, are drawing near,
Where every bark has sailing room.

I know the solemn monotone
Of waters calling unto me;
I know from whence the airs have blown
That whisper of the Eternal Sea.

As low my fires of drift-wood burn,
I hear that sea's deep sounds increase,
And, fair in sunset light, discern
Its mirage-lifted Isles of Peace.


By
John Greenleaf Whittier </FONT>

Once again, I am choosing the lyrics of a song
to place here.
This one is written by one of my very favorite
female singers.

Hope you don't mind,
but I will probably add her writing here often.

<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">Unforgivable

I'm never told that I am pretty
I'm never told that I am kind
And my soul burns now with fire
Deep inside

I want to become brave and courageous
Not buried in self-pity of my own
Ashamed and alone from all
That's been done to me
It's not my fault I remind myself

You say you don't be afraid
But I feel afraid
You say you don't laugh or cry
But I show emotion
You say food will be on the table
And birds in the sky
But I'm hungry
So hungry
And it's cloudy outside

You never loved me like a daughter
You never even loved yourself
And now you treat me like a burden
Just another object on your shelf

I want you to know that I love you
And this pain that I carry's not my own
Ashamed and alone
From all that's been done to you
It's not your fault
I remind myself

No matter what I've done
Or is done to me
Nothing unforgivable
Or unable to be set free

By
Plumb </FONT>

This is a "Love Poem " classic.....


<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">Her Voice

The wild bee reels from bough to bough
With his furry coat and his gauzy wing,
Now in a lily-cup, and now
Setting a jacinth bell a-swing,
In his wandering;
Sit closer love: it was here I trow
I made that vow,
Swore that two lives should be like one
As long as the sea-gull loved the sea,
As long as the sunflower sought the sun,-
It shall be, I said, for eternity
'Twixt you and me!
Dear friend, those times are over and done;
Love's web is spun.
Look upward where the poplar trees
Sway and sway in the summer air,
Here in the valley never a breeze
Scatters the thistledown, but there
Great winds blow fair
From the mighty murmuring mystical seas,
And the wave-lashed leas.
Look upward where the white gull screams,
What does it see that we do not see?
Is that a star? or the lamp that gleams
On some outward voyaging argosy,
Ah! can it be
We have lived our lives in a land of dreams!
How sad it seems.
Sweet, there is nothing left to say
But this, that love is never lost,
Keen winter stabs the breasts of May
Whose crimson roses burst his frost,
Ships tempest-tossed
Will find a harbour in some bay,
And so we may.

And there is nothing left to do
But to kiss once again, and part,
Nay, there is nothing we should rue,
I have my beauty,-you your Art,
Nay, do not start,
One world was not enough for two
Like me and you.

By
Oscar Wilde </FONT>

I thought I would showcase another poem
written by an Ageless member.
This one is written by member SnowPrincess

<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">Life Idea

Things only get better
not many get worse,
The life that you live
is not deemed a curse.
We take what we need
and reap what we sow,
when things turn out bad
we already know, That.....
We need to do good
and get rid of the past,
for a lifetime of goodness
is the thing that will last.

By
Copyright ©2003 Tammy Mitchell </FONT>

I probably won't do this too often,
but here is a poem of mine.

<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">Sketch

Sketched out,
scattered scraps,
dried up pens
the old dreams endlessly rotating
like forgotten tired windmills

Broken thoughts,
fragmented ideas
unclaimed and without copyright.
I scribble,
idle dribblings from me.
I scan the dismal sky,
align the logic
then edit out the reasons why.

The careful footing
of my life
has kept me safe
on my passive edge
Love dangling
from my lofty dramatic ledge.
Reams of paper
and promises
litter.
only to clutter up the truth

I inhale,
exhale
the breath of my dreams
banished
swept away
sight unseen

Commitment sketched out
shaded silhouettes
tangled up
not quite knowing
how to love,
the mime and the marionette
that we have become

Drawn to the edge
contemplating
the depth of one's good intentions.
Curse or cry
Waves swell and break
Desire lights
eager to flee
so hungry to fly.

By
Sage</FONT>
<img src="http://ChasingDownTheBlue.homestead.com/files/femme.gif">

This is poem that I have always liked very much...


<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

By
e. e. cummings</FONT>

Here is a poem that my children always enjoyed
having read to them.


<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">The Rock and The Bubble

Oh! a bare, brown rock
Stood up in the sea,
The waves at its feet
Dancing merrily.

A little bubble
Once came sailing by,
And thus to the rock
Did it gayly cry,

Ho! clumsy brown stone,
Quick, make way for me:
I'm the fairest thing
That floats on the sea.

See my rainbow-robe,
See my crown of light,
My glittering form,
So airy and bright.

O'er the waters blue,
I'm floating away,
To dance by the shore
With the foam and spray.

Now, make way, make way;
For the waves are strong,
And their rippling feet
Bear me fast along."

But the great rock stood
Straight up in the sea:
It looked gravely down,
And said pleasantly

Little friend, you must
Go some other way;
For I have not stirred
this many a long day.

Great billows have dashed,
And angry winds blown;
But my sturdy form
Is not overthrown.

Nothing can stir me
In the air or sea;
Then, how can I move,
Little friend, for thee?

Then the waves all laughed
In their voices sweet;
And the sea-birds looked,
From their rocky seat,

At the bubble gay,
Who angrily cried,
While its round cheek glowed
With a foolish pride

You shall move for me;
And you shall not mock
At the words I say,
You ugly, rough rock.

Be silent, wild birds!
While stare you so?
Stop laughing, rude waves,
And help me to go!

"For I am the queen
Of the ocean here,
And this cruel stone
Cannot make me fear.

Dashing fiercely up,
With a scornful word,
Foolish Bubble broke;
But Rock never stirred.

Then said the sea-birds,
Sitting in their nests
To the little ones
Leaning on their breasts,

Be not like Bubble,
Headstrong, rude, and vain,
Seeking by violence
Your object to gain;

"But be like the rock,
Steadfast, true, and strong,
Yet cheerful and kind,
And firm against wrong.

Heed, little birdlings,
And wiser you'll be
For the lesson learned
To-day by the sea.

By
Louisa May Alcott </FONT>

This poem has always moved me...

<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">Venetian Glass

As one who sails upon a wide, blue sea
Far out of sight of land, his mind intent
Upon the sailing of his little boat,
On tightening ropes and shaping fair his course,
Hears suddenly, across the restless sea,
The rhythmic striking of some towered clock,
And wakes from thoughtless idleness to time:
Time, the slow pulse which beats eternity!
So through the vacancy of busy life
At intervals you cross my path and bring
The deep solemnity of passing years.
For you I have shed bitter tears, for you
I have relinquished that for which my heart
Cried out in selfish longing. And to-night
Having just left you, I can say:
"T is well.
Thank God that I have known a soul so true,
So nobly just, so worthy to be loved!"

By
Amy Lowell</FONT>

I thought I would add some lyrics this evening-
these lyrics move me and I have loved this song for
many years...

<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">Suite: Judy Blue Eyes

It's getting to the point where
I'm no fun any more
I am sorry
Sometimes it hurts so badly
I must cry out loud
I am lonely I am yours, you are mine,
you are what you are
You make it hard

Remember what we've said,
and done
And felt about each other
Oh, babe, have mercy
Don't let the past remind us
of what we are not now
I am not dreaming

I am yours,
you are mine, you are what you are
You make it hard

Tearing yourself away from me now,
you are free
And I am crying
This does not mean I don't love you,
I do,
that's forever
Yes,
and for always

I am yours,
you are mine,
you are what you are
You make it hard

Something inside is telling me
that I've got your secret
Are you still listening?
Fear is the lock,
and laughter the key to your heart
And I love you

I am yours, you are mine,
you are what you are
And you make it hard

Friday evening
Sunday in the afternoon
What have you got to lose?
Tuesday morning
Please be gone, I'm tired of you
What have you got to lose?

Can I tell it like it is?
Help me I'm suffering
Listen to me baby
It's my heart that's suffering
Help me,
I'm crying to you
It's dyin'
and that's what I have to lose

I've got an answer
I'm going to fly away
What have I got to lose?
Will you come see me
Thursdays and Saturdays
What have you got to lose?

Chestnut brown canary
Ruby throated sparrow
Sing a song, don't be long
Thrill me to the marrow

Voices of the angels
Ring around the moonlight
Asking me, said she so free
How can you catch the sparrow?

Lacy lilting lady
Losing love lamenting
Change my life, make it right
Be my lady

Que linda me la traiga Cuba
La reina de la Mar Caribe
Cielo sol no tiene sangreahi
Y que triste que no puedo vaya
Oh va, oh va, va!

By
Crosby Stills and Nash</FONT>

I'm sorry that I fell behind in posting poems here.
Work has been a bear lately and by the time I get
home, I just fall into bed.

I thought I would leave another one of my poems-
it represents my crazy work agenda lately...

<FONT SIZE=2 COLOR=Black FACE="Comic Sans MS">
9 to 5

My timeline
rolls like on overloaded freight train

So much cramming
scrambling
Eating life on the run like this
can't be healthy

Consumed by duty
and data
the time clocks and deadlines
reprimand and remind me
I thirst and hunger
for just a little taste of
naughty procrastination

There is a beach waiting
with clear turquoise water
and a banana band
lit up by tiki torches
I need to rumba
and linger in the breezes

The afternoon sun finds it's way
to shed warm ribbons across my hardwood floor
I'm a lazy cat
I stretch
and sprawl
allowing idle thoughts
and the sun
to wash over me

Shall I allow the seduction of this
lazy afternoon mood
swoon me?
A delicious notion taps me on the shoulder
and I crawl back into bed to play


Written
By
Sage
Copyright © 2002SAGE </FONT>

I love this poem, I know it was in 'Four Weddings and a Funeral' but I like it (sorry it's a bit sad):

Funeral Blues (1st Verse) by W H Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

How Do We Forgive Our Fathers?
By Dick Lourie

How do we forgive our Fathers?
Maybe in a dream
Do we forgive our Fathers for leaving us too often or forever
when we were little?

Maybe for scaring us with unexpected rage
or making us nervous
because there never seemed to be any rage there at all.

Do we forgive our Fathers for marrying or not marrying our Mothers?
For Divorcing or not divorcing our Mothers?

And shall we forgive them for their excesses of warmth or coldness?
Shall we forgive them for pushing or leaning
for shutting doors
for speaking through walls
or never speaking
or never being silent?

Do we forgive our Fathers in our age or in theirs
or their deaths
saying it to them or not saying it?

If we forgive our Fathers what is left?



* This poem is read during the last scene in Smoke Signals. It was originally published in a longer version titled "Forgiving Our Fathers" in a book of poems titled Ghost Radio published by Hanging Loose Press in 1998

I saw the movie Smoke Signals in the theater with my two sisters. The oddest thing happened. In the final scene when Victor tosses his father's ashes into the river, this poem is read and the song "Forgive Our Fathers Suite" is played with the voices of Native singers. No one in the theater spoke, and no one left the theater till the very last credit rolled and the lights came up. Silence. Not kidding. It was a powerful moment. We were all touched by these words, the music and the film. Seems as though quite a few of us have our own "father" issues.

As a teenager I loved to write poetry. My favorite poet was Langston Hughes. This was a hard to find poem. In High School, I took this poem, and wrote a parody of it called "Too Tired". If I can dig it up, I'll post it here!

“Too Blue” by Langston Hughes

I got those sad old weary blues.
I don’t know where to turn.
I don’t know where to go.
Nobody cares about you
When you sink so low.
What shall I do?

What shall I say?
Shall I take a gun and
Put myself away?

I wonder if
One bullet would do?
Hard as my head is,
It would probably take two.

But I ain’t got
Neither bullet nor gun—
And I’m too blue
To look for one.

He calls to me across the miles
Night winds carry his whispers
They float on the breeze and through my windows
Falling gently upon my ears
- Hush -
I hear him now.

He calls to me from the heavens
Glittering stars cannot compare to the sparkle of his eyes
When he looks at me, I am consumed by the fire
I see him now.

He calls to me through my dreams
Dancing together in the shadows of my sleep
Where we laugh and love once again
I am in his arms
I feel him now.

He calls to me
Every moment of every day
Distance couldn't keep us apart
When destiny drew us together
I'll hold him for eternity
As long as he keeps calling.

by Tara Simms

Was sent this poem today and it struck a chord, what with all the confusion when a relationship ends.


Lets Go Over It All Again

Some people are like that
They split up and then they think:
Hey, maybe we haven't hurt each other to the uttermost.
Let's meet up and have a drink.

Let's go over it all again
Let's rake over the dirt.
Let me pick that scab of yours
Does it hurt?

Let's go over what went wrong -
How and why and when.
Let's go over what went wrong
Again and again.

We hurt each other badly once.
We said a lot of nasty stuff
But lately I've been thinking how
I didn't hurt you enough.

Maybe there's more where that came from,
Something more malign.
Let me damage you again
For the sake of auld lang syne.

Yes, let me see you bleed again
For the sake of auld lang syne.

Originally posted by Gillian
Wow - thanks Sage for picking one of mine for this thread. I'm honoured.

Gillian

That's a terrific poem. Where can we find more?

Originally posted by Geminivenus
That's a terrific poem. Where can we find more?

Unfortunately, this is an old thread. Sage is no longer on Ageless, and Gillian hasn't posted since October of last year.

I kept this thread up when I recently became moderator of this forum with the idea that I'd restart posting Poems of the Day. Thanks for the reminder. :cool: