Tag Archives: Love

QUESTIONS FOR THE NEXT SÉANCE

QUESTIONS FOR THE NEXT SÉANCE

Dearest Mother;

Sorry to disturb you
in your well deserved bliss,
but here’s a short list
of things that I forgot to ask

And, if it isn’t too much trouble
I’d like the answers as detailed as possible

It will be understandable
if you can’t conjure up a voice,
but one rap for yes, and two for no,
on a floating table won’t quite do

However, if you can look up Samuel Morse,
(who may well be bored and available),
he can give you a quick-study course
and I will dust off my old Boy Scout manual

I believe “talk to me” In Morse still becomes:

-/•-/•-•/-•- -/— –/•

So, now that we’ve got the hang of it;

– What was the best day of your life
– What was your worst

– Your greatest triumph
– Your greatest disappointment

– What you are happiest that you did
– Saddest that you didn’t

Why exactly did my uncle shoot my dog

Whatever happened to my baseball
card collection, with the rookie
Mickey Mantle

and what is heaven like

HI HO HI HO

HI HO HI HO

Work

I sometimes think about it, but not too hard

Like, shouldn’t there be a different word
for doing what we love or hate, for money

Like how I got to drive big trucks at eighteen
that I dreamed about at eight
and they paid me

Like playing cowboy and riding the range
where the deer and the antelope play
and getting paid

Building buildings bigger than Lego
and getting paid

Maybe work is about being serious
but I seriously question that too

I mean, what can be more joyous and serious
than a child adding one last block to his tower
or me, as I write this poem, and look up
to see it is 1:25 in the morning

SONNET FOR THE ORDINARY

SONNET FOR THE ORDINARY

There is a loving way to make a bed
With pillows care set at the head
And a mother’s loving knead to give
Adds nourishment to help us live

We know that water crystals change
With words of love or hate about
From snowflake to a muddy mange
And we are water without doubt

A cheerful flipper at the greasy spoon
Feeds us better though the food be junk
Than Pierre at the Ritz with silver spoon
Serving Crèpes Suzette with Galic funk

And care enough within a poem
can provide another home

IN MEMORY STILL

IN MEMORY STILL
(or computers byte)

You keep popping up in my memory

On old disks I find love notes
still as loving as when they were entered

Faxes, letters, poems, thoughts
full of beauty full of trust

Valentine’s poems, three of them
overflowing with sensual exaltation
wisdom exchanged, depths plumbed,
promises made

Fresh and clean and bright
as the day they were written
lines that would go on forever
lines that still do go on forever

I don’t know how to tell the little ones
and zeros that we’re now apart
it might break their heart

THE MOST LOVELY HELEN

THE MOST LOVELY HELEN

Poets are not saints
but by the grace of God and nature
and the law of magnets that attract them

If you believe in heaven she will go

If you believe that we come back
next time she may be the poet
blessed with one like her

Beloved wife of master poet Herman Nelson who in his words “took one last gulp of time and sank into eternity” in 2003

HOPE FLOWERS

HOPE FLOWERS

In Bethlehem
a refugee with sadness but no hate decreed
another generation is what we need

And a school where
the children of the refugees of holocausts and
refugees of refugees can learn together
learn to look inward first

This is a most beautiful and special place
with such regard for dignity and respect
so successful in their message of love
so filled with fairness to each side

That Arafat’s Palestinians burn their busses
and Israelis torture teachers and riddle walls

While Caterpillars sent from across the sea
creep closer each day in their wonderful
mindless mechanical way
with levelling intent

To be met with Gandhi smiles
and your help, if you give it

www.hopeflowersschool.org

Hope Flowers School – Bethlehem