The Coffee House - Poetry Corner

Here's a little poetry for your enjoyment. If you have any contributions, fill out the form at the end. Thanks for visiting!


First Set: Reflections

This section contains eight poems by yours truly - "A Small Proposal," "Short is the day","Night","College","Thoughts","To a Fallen Captain","What Have I Done?","Kitty","The Blue Spruce","Spring", and "Summer." They are reflections on various topics ranging from worldwide equality to Abraham Lincoln. I hope you like this set.

A Small Proposal

The time indeed has come
to end a weary fate.
The rifts that widen between us
should not reap a harvest of hate.
Let us love one another as the Lord said,
for there is no truth when understanding is dead,
and blood is all the same red
when it has been shed.

To err is human; to forgive is humane.
To accept is logical; to reject, insane.
To deny equality leaves the scarlet stain
of a bleeding world which cannot stand the strain.
For all of those who in the past bled,
let us remember history's lessons in good stead,
for blood is all the same red
when it has been shed.

Short is the Day


Even though the sky is bright with daylight,
I can see distant the shadows of dusk
and an undiscovered country's wintry chill.
and I have many a rosebud to gather.
Light the hearth of the soul;
be a blanket of peace.
Time runs too short
to shudder against
the winds of ignorance.


Night

Like a melancholy afghan over Atlas' shoulders,
dusk claims and covers the sleeping matriarch.
There are no spots of light in her indigo cover;
only flecks of distant sisters of the sun
and sisters of our matriarch flash a coy gleam,
accompanied by the light from a round beaming face.
Folds in the blanket ruffle and move across
a velveteen surface partially translucent with mist.
The blanket is cold and clammy, never meant to warm.
Only when a trickle of luminescence appears softly
and grows to grandness over distant fields
will the blanket subside and disappear to return for another night.

College

Soft lights play over the brick walls;
music delicate as a feather plays
whispering with knowledge of life's secrets.
The prosaic conversations at wee hours with a beloved friend
and sheer gossip of naughty indiscretion
have become common uniquities.
Going to a spirited soiree on the weekend,
or frantically preparing for a dreaded scrutiny of stored-up knowledge -
laughing recklessly, and yet caring
are quintessential pieces of my favorite years.


Food for Thought

We all feast on our memories;
the heart is but a taste bud.
Thoughts of homes lost and found,
of friends made and lost,
and sadness turned to joy then ambiguity -
ah, the dubious smorgasbord for the soul!
Loving thoughts of friends,
ugly thoughts of enemies and regrets,
bitter thoughts of unfufilled promises,
and thoughts of the joyful times
offer a mixed feast and varying cuisine.
Yett give me one thought of my love -
the one who reciprocates my love -
and I no longer have the hunger.

To a Fallen Captain

Sir, can you help us?
Do the dogmas of our past sneak up behind us
to kill us as the last blood to be spilled?
We cannot escape history, whether four score ago
or from lessons of our yesterdays.
Shall we die in vain to perish from the earth
or is it for us to rise to the occasion?
Whether honor or dishonor claims the victory won,
we will give the last full measure of devotion as you did,
as you taught us;
then we shall save our country.


What Have I Done?


What have I done to deserve your wrath?
I am wounded by your hidden intents.
You forgot that what you do not say
reaches my ears with terrible clarity.
You and your kind deny me thrice,
betray me, leave me for dead
yet my work is not over.
You think I wouldn't forgive?
My reputation precedes me -
you cower, I'm sure -
but I want nothing of revenge.
My blood has left me already
and it was for you that I bled for.
All I ask is -
Will you accept me at long last
into your hearts and minds?
Maybe you already have.

Kitty


(in memoriam)

She has her ways -
light on her feet and inaudible,
she is playful, feral
as her instincts ask of her.
Bright blue eyes turning rubies at times
dangerously innocent like the day she was born,
she darts her head,
ears swiveling, searching for mischief.
Could she behave?
Maybe -
that's if the spot behind the ears
is still sensitive to my touch.
She's calling my name in monosyllable -
I suppose it's feeding time.


The Blue Spruce There stands the tall tree - I remember the frail infant that it was! It took root through a long adolescence for ten years that I had to watch it grow, surviving storms of nature, witness to storms of the heart, never once believed itself a stubborn oak. I learned to bend with winds of emotion from watching my silent sentinel companion. O to see it dressed in white icicles or in stately azure! It never greeted me - never said goodbye when I left, and yet what a constant spirit built only of timeless evergreen.

To Table of Contents



Summer

Laziness, your name is summer.
You smile, totally bored with your own pleasure -
life is SO rough for you!
When you're around, people take the long way home
or they decide to stay out just a little longer
before going inside.
You sprinkle drowsiness to every corner
of wherever you inhabit.
And warmth is your overcoat,
and you blanket everyone with it indiscriminately!
Summer, you are a tempting goddess
and I am guilty of falling into your spell!




To Table of Contents


Second Set: Portraits

I usually like to portray someone in words that means a lot to me. Granted, there are many that mean a lot and I'm rather busy trying to write about them, but these are the ones I have so far. The first is a self-portrait, and the others are of friends that have truly made an impression upon me (like Jon and Lena!) and show me what the word friend really means. "You Know Who You Are" is, without doubt, to my parents and stepparents and it's a reflective way of saying "I love you." This is dedicated to my friends and those close to me.


The Fiddler								To Jon

He stands either alone or in great crowds				Brothers we are not, and yet so close.
to entertain the multitudes or to entertain himself.			The very definiton of brother blurs between you and me.
He plays not for, but with the audience.				With unexplained deliberateness, Lady Luck granted us both
You do not see him emulating his upper-class counterpart,		the good fortune of our simple acquaintance.
the residence of the concert hall such as it stands;			Never will you understand how in debt I am
he instead slouches slightly over his instrument,			to debts only we can speak of to one another.
folds and furrows cutting valleys into his brow				Dear brother, I would never know joy
and melismas of facial expressions serve as mirrors			unless you hadn't shown me in the first place.
to the various emotional contents of his song.				Only you would know me so well
His right arm is liquid perpetual motion,				as to rival my own knowledge of myself.
bouncing mercurial with electricity powered by the pulse		Perhaps there is no need for kinship;
of music's heartbeat which beats irresistably.				we are of kin more so than many who actually are blood-bonded,
The fingers of his left hand dance over the neck			and we take every last measure of friendship not for granted,
to caress like a betraying lover					but for great memories and for experiences that we will face together.
only to return to playful tickling					You and I are of a kind -
in flurries of motion faster than the eye can catch.			cut from the same cloth and without question
The instrument is alive as it calls out -				of the same mold, which the powers that be have long since broken.
fast notes giggling joyfully,						From this day do I tell you I love you brother,
hiccups of syncopation jolting the ears,				and without compromise, I ever shall be your friend.
completed by spontaneous weeping in melancholy moments.
He is the voice of audible emotion.
Such is the world of the fiddler.

To Table of Contents



Lena									You Know Who You Are
									
Her eyes tell a story							You know who you are,
about a girl who's seen more than she needed to.			but you don't know what you mean to me.
You tell her about your troubles					I can never say nor estimate
and she's probably been there already herself - 			how much I've been in your debt and how much I will be.
she probably stopped there to buy a souvenir, too.			You've made me and shaped me from my beginning in good nature
Regrets aren't in her vocabulary,					and I'm making sure your efforts pay off.
and it shows with her style.						Whatever you do, you can never do wrong by me
She might say she's right or wrong,					because whether right or wrong, you still do the right thing.
but she'll be damned if she has to admit any regret.			I need not say anymore about you,
She has many voices -							because it'd be more than what I can physically say.
the one used to sooth the savage beast,					You know who you are,
and the one she uses to impale that same beast				and I love you.
when he's been naughty or less than charitable. 
But the one voice which is irresistable
is that of her when lifts her voice to sing -
a voice worth dying and reliving all over again
to experience once more, like a cool breeze on hot summer days!
Oh, she is a friend in a sea of strangers,
and loyalty should be her middle name.
Oh, world, let her be as she is -
let her be Lena and may the world smile as she lives on.

																	

To Table of Contents


Third Set: Love Poems

These poems are two in particular I have written to someone very dear to me. I have other love poetry that I'd like to add at a future date. Be patient and you will find it on here sometime! Anyways, these go out to my love - you know who you are, too! *wink*

When Love Found Me							Love Sonnet						

Love always finds someone -						Fresh as a summer breeze,
love can't be found, but it seeks and finds instead			my love is patient for you.
striking quickly and directly to the heart.				Undoubtedly with the greatest ease
I've never found love by looking for it -				does my heart believe you love me, too.
there were many roads I took in error to find it,			Search my eyes and see, dear,
and people along the way to give misguided directions			that there is the everlasting emotion
and deliberate deceptions by bitter souls.				which I know is quite clear
I should have waited -							in its absolute devotion.
love found me when I least expected it					Do you love me so?
and when I thought it would never be found,				Only you could say for sure,
it found me through your eyes,						but I at least surely know
and I am better the man for it today.					that your love for me is pure.
									In a whirlwind courtship I cannot forget
									is my love for you which I will not regret.
									

To Table of Contents


Fourth Set: Historical Limerics

I am an amateur historian and love writing poetry, so why not mix the two? Also, my family history traces back to the little town of Limerick, Ireland, where this style of poetry so evolved. So here are twenty limericks dealing with historical figures and subjects. Only one of them (number VII) does not deal with a particular historical reference - it is a peace overture instead. Try to guess which events I refer to in each one. Be careful - some of them are very subtle and require some reading into! Enjoy!!



I.	I spotted a ship on the sea					XI.	A learned young man named Billy					
	which docked in the port before me.					or otherwise known as Willy
	The sailors were lude,							wrote tragedies so sad
	twisted and crude							but the world is quite glad
	as they dumped their huge cargo of tea.					that he could be playful and silly.

II.	There was a young lad in France					XII.	They wanted her head to take.	
	who fancied that he could dance.					Unfortunately for her own sake,
	They danced to his song							she never did know
	but the world proved him wrong						how far they would go
	when Waterloo unbuttoned his pants.					when she said aloud, "Let them eat cake!"

To Table of Contents



III.	I know a big guy named J. S.					XIII.	He could play anything you did.	
	who lived for his songs, I would guess.					he could not be beat, heaven forbid!
	When it gets right down to it,						He could write such great symphonies
	he proved he could do it						with strings, winds and timpani,
	and had twenty children, no less!					and yet he was only a kid.	

IV.	Two countries quite common by name				XIV.	What a famous artist we cheer -	
	settled down in the grimmest of games.					his works we hold to be dear.
	One country was bested,							Yet he hated himself,
	their honor molested							got a knife from the shelf
	and they unified, just the same.					and in a fit cut off his ear.

To Table of Contents



V.	We can no longer live on our knees!				XV.	The composer himself was proud
	We ask for our rights, if you please.					in spite of the unloving crowd.
	Resistance we bring							A pity, oh dear,
	against such a king							that he couldn't hear
	who should revel in talking to trees.					and so thence he wrote music too loud!

VI.	He fancied himself the master					XVI.	He was too young, they said,
	of a race which waged war so much faster.				but despite the odds, he still led.
	His deeds were cold							Sadness and tears
	and sadly untold							after only two years
	until after his life met disaster.					when he was shot and soon lay dead.

To Table of Contents



VII.	This happens too often, my friends!				XVII.	He lifted his voice to sing	
	It must all be brought to an end.					To let the freedom ring:
	When nations collide							bondage is past -
	and the armies take sides,						"Free at last!"
	instead, have doves ready to send.					and he was known to the people as King.

VIII.	Hell hath no fury like women scorned.				XVIII.	At a parade in a hostile town
	Remember Manasses and marriages torn:					rode an emperor's heir to the crown.
	Swift and limber,							They took a wrong turn
	she stole his member							and the bridges were burned
	and he only lives well now through porn.				when the leader was coldly gunned down.

To Table of Contents



IX.	A guy with a famous name					XIX.	It's a day remembered with pain -
	had a queen invest in his fame -					with exposions and crimson stain.		
	he found a new land,							No fighting back -
	stood on its sand							'twas a brutal attack
	and it for the queen he did claim.					whose code name was East Wind Rain.

X.	A poor man indeed was he,					XX.	It was never really a war,
	born in a log cabin, you see.						but there was much tension in store,
	By a twist of fate							for the two mighty nations
	he was to be great							who, without hesitation,
	and to be opposite Jackson and Lee.					could have made humankind no more.

To Table of Contents


Fifth Set: Poems by Other Authors


This is a new section - I would like to feature other poets and their works. The first, Five-Finger Exercises is by T. S. Eliot; I took these poems and wrote a song cycle set to the these poems as the lyrics. I dedicated them to Lena (mentioned in the above poem), and she has graciously learned my piece and gave it a wonderful premiere! I will be adding poems as I find them, so look here for new additions.

Five-Finger Exercises

I. Lines to a Persian Cat

The songsters of the air repair
To the green fields of Russell Square.
Beneath the trees there is no ease
For the dull brain, the sharp desires
And the quick eyes of Woolly Bear.
There is no relief but in grief.
O when will the creaking heart cease?
When will the broken chair give ease?
Why will the summer day delay?
When will Time flow away?

II. Lines to a Yorkshire Terrier

In a brown field stood a tree
And the tree was crookt and dry.
In a black sky, from a green cloud
Natural forces shrieked aloud,
Screamed, rattled, muttered endlessly.
Little dog was safe and warm
Under a cretonne eiderdown,
Yet the field was cracked and brown
And the tree was cramped and dry.
Pollicle dogs and cats all must
Jellicle cats and dogs all must
Like undertakers, come to dust.
Here a little dog I pause
Heaving up my prior paws,
Pause, and sleep endlessly.

III. Lines to a Duck in the Park

The long light shakes across the lake,
The forces of the morning quake,
The dawn is slant across the lawn,
Here is no eft or mortal snake
But only sluggish duck and drake.
I have seen the morning shine,
I have had the Bread and Wine,
Let the feathered mortals take
That which is their mortal due,
Pinching bread and finger too,
Easier had than squirming worm;
For I know, and so should you
That soon the enquiring worm shall try
Our well-preserved complacency.

IV. Lines to Ralph Hodgson Esqre.

How delightful to meet Mr. Hodgson!
(Everyone wants to know him)-
With his musical sound
And his Baskerville Hound
Which, just at a word from his master
Will follow you faster and faster
And tear you limb from limb.
How delightful to meet Mr. Hodgson!
Who is worshipped by all waitresses
(They regard him as something apart)
While on his palate fine he presses
The juice of the gooseberry tart.
How delightful to meet Mr. Hodgson!
(Everyone wants to know him).
He has 999 canaries
And round his head finches and fairies
In jubilant rapture skim.
How delightful to meet Mr. Hodgson!
(Everyone wants to meet him).

V. Lines for Cuscuscaraway and Mirza Murad Ali Beg

How unpleasant to meet Mr. Eliot!
With his features of clerical cut,
And his brow so grim
And his mouth so prim
And his conversation, so nicely
Restricted to What Precisely
And If and Perhaps and But.
How unpleasant to meet Mr. Eliot!
With a bobtail cur
In a coat of fur
And a porpentine cat
And a wopsical hat:
How unpleasant to meet Mr. Eliot!
(Whether his mouth be open or shut).



Map of Fiddler's e-house