The Bugle Call
It is a melancholy,
yet a comforting sound,
a sobering Call
that announces the fall
of a gentle warrior:
a brave soul,
perhaps too young,
to know how finite,
the summons will be.
I hear that song again
repeating an inquisitive lyric
“War, what is good for?”
My response is always the same.
I wonder about him
all the time
that Unknown soldier
and the one I knew well too
who chose to be remembered
the next to last day in May,
waiting to be lifted
his last wish comes true.
In Memory of my nephew Ivan.
a sweet memory visits me
I could feel her hug me tight
and I feel free
to let go of my fears.
I re-blogged this poem in honor of my mother. I can’t imagine what she would say about all that is happening right now. I hope she is not too worried.
Coming to America
She was only 18 years old
Her heart raced in her chest
like galloping stallions on the finca
they left on the island of emerald-green.
Soon their ship would pass by Lady Liberty;
All decks were packed with passengers
Some would salute proudly,
others knelt thankfully
as if at church,
but she simply held her breath
like when you get ready to
blow-up a balloon at a birthday party.
Her dreams danced in her head
like her favorite dancers Fred Astaire
and Ginger Rodgers.
She envisioned herself looking out
her bay window framed with lace curtains
as her two young girls jumped rope.
She imagined her Cape Cod home
surrounded by a three-foot white picket fence,
daffodils and daisies leaning comfortably against it.
That was her American Dream.
She knew there was hard work ahead
No one said it would be easy
her heart reminded her everyday
View original post 115 more words
After I wrote The Role of a Poet, I found this post that relates to the premise.
How do you want to be remembered? asked the poet
There were three poets, one doctor and two teachers present to respond to the poet’s question.
Finally after a long silence and obvious pondering the doctor says, “I want to be remembered as someone who took my oath seriously.
One poet said, ” I want to be remembered as a poet who wanted to promote peace.”
The other poet said, “I will be remembered as the king of the couplet.”
The remaining poet said, ” I hope people will remember me as the simple poet.”
Then the two teachers looked at each other politely and gestured one another to speak first.
After a few seconds one teacher speaks. “I want to be remembered for my patience,” she said.
The other teacher remains pensive for a few more seconds. She says, “I hope that the students I was not able…
View original post 174 more words
I often ask myself what is the role or job of the poet? Each time the response depends on what is happening in the world and in my personal life. I ask other poets the same question. Sometimes I wish I could ask my favorite poets, especially those who became well-known after they passed. I could imagine their reaction when they learn in their after life that people finally get and appreciate the poems they wrote.
As I pondered the question I went back to my collection of poetry books and looked for some insights. Inspired by poet’s biographies and other readings, I wrote a poem that hopefully answers the question. I mean if you have ever asked yourself what is the role of the poet.
The Role of the Poet
I believe the world needs a poet more today
It needed one yesterday as well
because a poet is one to tells
truths we may not want to hear
a poet brings to light what is most dear
and helps us to face fear
A poet brings you back into your own life
and teaches you how to breathe in and out
in stillness and in meditation
while you listen carefully to your breath and heart beat
and to the divine explanation of why we are all here.
A poet is a little god
who soothes your soul
and lets you peek into life’s crystal ball
to see yourself for the very first time
A poet sings the songs that make the world go round
and says what matters in free verse or rhyme
a poet knows how to expertly use every utterance and sound
in alliteration or onomatopoeia or assonance
and when it comes to choosing
the right meter
who else can we possibly trust
It does not matter what form a poem takes
A poet must not mistake
an epic, a limerick or an ode
As long as a poet can bring back the spring
in the middle of winter.
A poet can make you sing
and help you see the purpose of a fly
and you can either believe every word
or decide to defy
its relevance or ambiguity
but we must admit the poet’s acuity
for words and how to use them in a soliloquy.
Being a poet is not an easy job
a poet can make you smile
or make your heart throb
A poet can also make you think
about so many things that need thinking
and when you don’t understand
the message it can really stink
but as for me
I still hope to be
a poet someday.
Happy National Poetry Month!
“Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.” –
– Leonard Cohen
A few suggestions for things you can do to honor the poets of the world.
A New bud appeared
after the mighty snow fall
I very happy to announce that my coloring book is now available at www.barnesandnoble.com. Thanks for your continued support.
The Poets light but Lamps — (930)
The Poets light but Lamps —
Themselves — go out —
The Wicks they stimulate
If vital Light
Inhere as do the Suns —
Each Age a Lens
Recently I decided to link my poetry to my artwork via several venues. I published my coloring book in September of 2016, The Secret Life of Mandalas, which is available via Amazon.com.
I have always loved graphic design and making my own greeting cards and other products. Zazzle.com and Threadless.com gave me the opportunity to create my products and use my art and poetry.
I want to thank those of you who have been so supportive this past year. I truly appreciate your comments and feedback.
Occasionally, I will post some of my products as they become available. However, my main focus and labor of love will continue to be writing poetry.