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Verse for a Certain Dog
Dorothy Parker

Such glorious faith as fills your limpid eyes,
Dear little friend of mine, I never knew.
All-innocent are you, and yet all-wise.
(For Heaven's sake, stop worrying that shoe!)
You look about, and all you see is fair;
This mighty globe was made for you alone.
Of all the thunderous ages, you're the heir.
(Get off the pillow with that dirty bone!)

A skeptic world you face with steady gaze;
High in young pride you hold your noble head,
Gayly you meet the rush of roaring days.
(Must you eat puppy biscuit on the bed?)
Lancelike your courage, gleaming swift and strong,
Yours the white rapture of a winged soul,
Yours is a spirit like a Mayday song.
(God help you, if you break the goldfish bowl!)

"Whatever is, is good" - your gracious creed.
You wear your joy of living like a crown.
Love lights your simplest act, your every deed.
(Drop it, I tell you- put that kitten down!)
You are God's kindliest gift of all - a friend.
Your shining loyalty unflecked by doubt,
You ask but leave to follow to the end.
(Couldn't you wait until I took you out?)


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              BAST

She had green eyes, that excellent seer
And little peaks to either ear.
She sat there, and I sat here.

She spoke of Egypt, and a white
Temple, against enormous night.

She smiled with clicking teeth and said
That the dead were never dead:

Said old emperors hung like bats
In barns at night, or ran like rats -
But Empresses came back as cats!

William Rose Benil


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Considering it's US Poetry Month I offer this:

Quality Control
by J5

Zaakir's the name, the aka soupa, the verbal acupuncture from ya dope old schoola,
I used to be the brother for others they used to dumb on,
Now they be the lovers of brothers, they can't front on
Put me in the mix, lp 12", sp, the elegant poetic pestilence
I'm carbonated, plus anti-confederated, highly commemorated and the most celebrated
For connecting it, word, verb subject to the predicate
Plus I got the etiquette, to keep it moving and show my cats how it's done
Cause it's the verbal compact position #1

We keep it beaming like a beacon, if it's lyrics that you're seeking.
Whether black or Puerto Rican people back us when we speaking
We got the kind of rhymes to get you ready for the weekend,
To the mass amount of legions that came for party pleasing
our tempeture is freezing, all kind of different regions
The rhythm is the reason your checking for what we've done
Please son, our thesis, 'll rip your crew in pieces
Your rhymes ain't ripe homeboy you ain't in season

Ayo my quality control, captivates your mind, body and soul
For who the bell tolls, let the rhythm explode
Big bad and bold b-boys of old

We'll it's the angelic man relic clan repellant,
My transparent manuscripts withstand bullets
Flashing like a Japan tourist we command pure hits
While you cramming to understand these contraband lyrics
My fam summits to pray 5 times a day, climbing into your mind with live rhyme display
j5 finds a way to remain supreme
Coming verbally harder son as if my name was Kadeem.

Hey yo my team dream works, without Spielbergs I spill words
communicate from the earth throughout the universe
I transmit, transcripts transcontinental, lyrics deeply rooted in your spirit
I love the power of words, nouns and verbs, the pen and the sword, linguistic on'award,
No folklore's or myths in my penmanship, the path of scholar warriors is what I present
Verbally decapitating those against us,
Jihah'fasibili'lah, my words make sense
You gots to get up on your vocab, you gots to have vocab,
Letters make words and sentences make paragraphs

I make the pen capsize the brother with the planet eyes
planting knives every pen that I utilize, spit juice
crack blood from your tooth, inflict truth speak Allah's 99 attributes
Hey yo you baby mc's drink pedialite
While underground doesn't like you the media might
But we the elite we'll change that as we bridge gaps
in this lyrical grudge match brothers we slug back

We bless tracks wit da help of a raw rap
Imprinted like paw tracks all over your brain rack
My mental maneuver will clearly steer right through ya
We grand like puba understand that we move ya
A yo my rhythm reveal rollercoast the real deal
Revolutionize react and build, I plant my dreams in a field and wait to harvest my skills
For the starving mc hungry trying to get a meal

Ayo my quality control, captivates your mind body and soul
For who the bell tolls, let the rhythm explode
Big bad and bold b-boys of old


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DO NOT PONDER TOO MUCH

by Stefan George (1868-1933) German

Do not ponder too much
meanings that cannot be found --
The symbol-scenes that no man understands:

The wild swan you shot, that you kept alive
In the yard, for a while, with shattered wing --
He reminded you, you said, of a faraway creature:
Your kindred self that you had destroyed in him.
He languished with neither thanks for your care nor rancor,
But when his dying came,
His fading eye rebuked you for driving him now
Out of a known into a new cycle of things.


translated by Stanley Burnshaw






The Only WO'N!

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     WAGTAIL AND BABY

A Baby watched a ford, whereto
A wagtail came for drinking;
A blaring bull went wading through,
The wagtail showed no shrinking.

A stallion splashed his way across,
The birdie nearly sinking;
He gave his plumes a twitch and toss,
and held his own unblinking.

Next saw the baby round the spot
A mongrel slowly slinking:
The wagtail gazed, but faltered not
In dip and sip and prinking.

A perfect gentleman then neared;
The wagtail, in a winking,
With terror rose and disappeared.
The baby fell a-thinking.

Thomas Hardy

          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LITERARY LOVE

I BROKE my heart because of you, my dear;
I wept full many an unmanly tear -
But as in agony I lay awake
I thought, "What lovely poems this will make!"

Harry Kemp
**************


#65301 04/23/02 03:32 PM
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Gotta say about Literary Love: Ain't it the truth; ain't it the truth!




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(and I offer this also in concert with Earth Day)

SONG OF THE SKY LOOM

Tewa (Native American tribe), Anonymous (19th Century)

O our Mother the Earth, O our Father the Sky,
Your children are we, and with tired backs
We bring you the gifts you love.
Then weave for us a garment of brightness;
May the warp be the white light of the morning,
May the weft be the red light of the evening,
May the fringes be the falling rain,
May the border be the standing rainbow.
Thus weave for us a garment of brightness,
That we may walk fittingly where birds sing,
That we may walk fittingly where grass is green,
O our Mother the Earth, O our Father the Sky.


translated by Herbert J. Spinden


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SPRING AND ALL
William Carlos Williams

By the road to the contagious hospital
under the surge of the blue
mottled clouds driven from the
northeast-a cold wind. Beyond, the
waste of broad, muddy fields
brown with dried weeds, standing and fallen

patches of standing water
the scattering of tall trees

All along the road the reddish
purplish, forked, upstanding, twiggy
stuff of bushes and small trees
with dead, brown leaves under them
leafless vines-

Lifeless in appearance, sluggish
dazed spring approaches-

They enter the new world naked,
cold, uncertain of all
save that they enter. All about them
the cold, familiar wind-

Now the grass, tomorrow
the stiff curl of wildcarrot leaf
One by one objects are defined-
It quickens: clarity, outline of leaf


But now the stark dignity of
entrance-Still, the profound change
has come upon them: rooted, they
grip down and begin to awaken





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The Cherry-Blossom Wand
Anna Wickham

I WILL pluck from my tree a cherry-blossom wand,
And carry it in my merciless hand,
So I will drive you, so bewitch your eyes,
With a beautiful thing that can never grow wise.

Light are the petals that fall from the bough,
And lighter the love that I offer you now;
In a spring day shall the tale be told
Of the beautiful things that will never grow old.

The blossoms shall fall in the night wind,
And I will leave you so, to be kind:
Eternal in beauty, are short-lived flowers,
Eternal in beauty, these exquisite hours.

I will pluck from my tree a cherry-blossom wand,
And carry it in my merciless hand,
So I will drive you, so bewitch your eyes,
With a beautiful thing that shall never grow wise.

Anna Wickham


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Must Hurry- only seven days left in National Poetry Month.
Quickly now...

Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night
What immortal hand or eye
could [FRAME] thy fearful symmetry?

                                 William Blake


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