Poems

by local and regional poets

IN THE GORDON HOUSE

                  April 18, 2009

Earth Day takes place outside,

filling Oregon’s Garden. The house

says welcome, invites us in to reflect

and rejoice. Admitting every bit of sun,

its lofted windows frame oak leaves

and blades of green.  Here to make poems,

we dedicate this day to another way

of celebrating our world.  With a footing

in Oregon earth, the house vaults

its cement block and cedar and glass

up into light.  We write.

Our work –- one more creation

rising from this Eden –-

reaches from ground toward sky.

                            Paulann Peterson

with gratitude and admiration

2009 Featured Poet


All Caring

full moon set orange as I rise
faithful early writer consider
cruel history chance chosen
according to birth time place
 
water browning lawn perfect
summer sequencing satirical
fortune fragile tough talking
words wing glad bloom bird
 
what conclude this outcome
personal mockery all caring
equal surely smug shattered
irony rewards none's virtue
 
Michael Smith
(from MICHAELWRITES—http://michaeltownsendsmith.blogspot.com) 

 

LOVE SONG by Christopher M. Wicks (March 27, 2010)

Is there anything left of me
But pagan adoration of Eros,
Incarnate in you?
Without the playful light behind your eyes,
Would anything illumine my path?
Allow me one more moment with you!

Should you deny me, there will be nothing
Left in the world but mourning
And disappointment.
  The sky, whether gray
Or blue, will be a big burial shroud,
And the leafy canopy of each tree
Will be as a sodden handkerchief.
 
Each sign in the city where busy people
Are trying to attract their buyers and sellers
Will spell nothing but grief, and indeed
The concrete of each building will be solid
Grief made tangible.
  Each will throb
With a sympathetic ache, as I trudge past,
Telling me to count the days, hours, minutes
Until I may see you again. 

Should you accept me, I should be happy,
But I won’t be content.
  Of course your lips
Will be sweeter than honey, and your breath like roses,
And your hands more gentle than a Spring breeze,
And so much more which others have said
In terms stronger than my own.
  But beware
The jealousy which will stalk you like a watchful lion.
After I will have kissed you a thousand times,
I’ll let you go, into the outside world,
Insofar as that phrase may continue
To have any meaning.
  But be invisible!
If anyone glances at your ivory skin, I’ll have
Their hide, or if anyone notices the nobility
Of your profile, they’ll regret it, and if anyone
Sees for an instant the favor of your eyes’ light,
I just might have to blind them.
  You’ll learn
You can’t just captivate me with love
Without my fighting fire with fire.
So kiss me one more time, and go,
You who have stolen away my world, and given me
In return, a flaming heart, and one temple,
Bounded by the soles of your feet and the crown of your head,
In which all of my hopes reside now, at whose altar
I’ve sacrificed all my flocks, and for whose perfume
I’ve given my uttermost farthing.
  Go.  But return.

 

     Downhill Skier 

Skiing schussed away fogs -
A crystal clarity about priorities.
Mix endorphines and adrenaline,
Sprinkle lightly with commraderie,
Add white anticipation - that's skiing.
 
Uphill from the lodge - woven through
Innocent stands of fir trees - arteries -
That carry life blood. From top to bottom -
Places of transformation.
 
At the top of the chairlift, we're ready to
Dance with winter. The music of silence
And whispering trees give the nod :
We become one with the white ribbons
That call.
 
Some days our downhill runs
Are as smooth and light
As the snow that carries us.
We blend naturally with this soft
Side of winter.
 
At other times we're winter storms -
Attacking steep slopes, jumping
Off bumps, white missles flying
On ribbons. We beckon fear to
Hold our hearts - for a minute or two
 
.At dusk, we are renewed. Authentic
Feelings replace tangled wires
Of daily living - joy and peace step in -
For a while. We say goodbye to
Settled snowflakes - they wave back -
Each in her own way.


Larry Anderson
Comments