Five poems from home [and a view on the planet vs. the poet]
Five Poems from Home
1) Remembering: Dorothy Parker
[Dedicated to the 1920s Poetess]
Let it be said,
Dorothy Parker lies dead,
cremated to ash and poetry; thus,
she died at the ripe old age
of seventy-three-.
The tiny woman with a big mouth,
who got caught in the rain
and couldn't get out:
continued to play the game,
all the same,
like drops of rain
upon a pane.
#713 6/2005
2) Changing me
If I'd not be so frank
I'd not create such a stink.
If I'd not be so stubborn,
I'd sleep well in the summer.
If I'd not curse at the bad
I'd be happier and glad.
But I shall remain the way I am
Because I don't give a damn!
#712 7/5/05
3) Inertia
When I was young
Strong and bold
Right was wrong,
And?
Wrong was right;
My heart opened out,
My mind soaring
I marched away?
And looked for glory
But I am old
And the world is so
Battles won, lost
It is time to stop;
Thus?
I now let go.
#711 6/2005
4) The Wake of E.T.S
As soon as you had died
They cremated you,
I couldn't look at their faces
Of rush and kindness;
Nor pass my hand in theirs
Or bend my knees,
Or have them, watch me,
Mournful eyed.
I hope you didn't wait
For me at the wake,
I did my goodbyes at
The café ?
?and left to mend my soul
Alone-
So stagnated and paralyzed
I became,
You would have laughed
Had you seen such
A thing!...
#710 6/2005
5) Nature Dreams
Nature dreams
And when she wakes
To find the human
Disposition stinks
She expresses
Metaphysically-
Then neurotically
Just like we!...
#708 6/2005
The Poet's Dilemma: Some poetry proclaims the end of human and divine nature of things (what is left then, I don't know); and labels it 'Mans dilemma.' Where in essence, it is really the 'Poet's dilemma,' I'd think. Let's see if we can sew up the dilemma. It is well understood, the planet lives, it has its own dimensions, divine and cosmic, as doe's man. The poetic justification for the decay of nature is the nature of man-so it has been said, but man is part of the physical planet-as the planet is part of him; thus, maybe it has its own sins (the planet), its own magnetic pull on man to do as it wishes him to do-perhaps, just maybe, perhaps.
Poet/Author Dennis Siluk his books can be review at http://www.bn.com
Article Source: Messaggiamo.Com
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