June 19, '13
A Consuming Occupation
Happy my years of teaching though passing few -
Ever since I watched my fourth grade teacher stand
And take the desk keys in her beautiful chalk- dusted hand,
I have known what I wanted to do.
But the past has claimed my teaching of the young -
Newer things beckon ahead in the sun -
Occupations may differ but all are life's summits,
At my current peak, you can find me writing sonnets.
What if I could combine poetry and writing,
With teaching to a group of peers -
Call it "a literary summit - hands on - exciting",
Where choice of work and pleasure adheres?
Recall Frost who wanted to make his avocation
and vocation one -
Earth and heaven benefit only when work is
passionately done.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Color Me No Color
June 12, '13
Color Me No Color
"I will raise aloft the milk-white rose" -
I didn't write that but the Poet everyone knows -
That is why I sit like a fractious little scholar,
Stubbornly refusing to write about color.
"My luv is like a red red rose" penned the Scotish bard.
Why was he the first and last to write it?
Time's anthologies find perennial delight in it -
Could such an unadorned utterance have been so hard?
Genius is a simple thing when all is said -
It cannot be understood or explained.
It takes hold of color and lifts it above the mundane -
White is whiter through its craft - redder red.
Ask me to write on flowers, I'll take my stand -
But 'color' alone! - this little poet sits with folded hands.
Color Me No Color
"I will raise aloft the milk-white rose" -
I didn't write that but the Poet everyone knows -
That is why I sit like a fractious little scholar,
Stubbornly refusing to write about color.
"My luv is like a red red rose" penned the Scotish bard.
Why was he the first and last to write it?
Time's anthologies find perennial delight in it -
Could such an unadorned utterance have been so hard?
Genius is a simple thing when all is said -
It cannot be understood or explained.
It takes hold of color and lifts it above the mundane -
White is whiter through its craft - redder red.
Ask me to write on flowers, I'll take my stand -
But 'color' alone! - this little poet sits with folded hands.
No Problem - No solution
June 5, '13
No Problem - No Solution
It's a real dilemma finding a resolution
To the problem given as an assignment -
To wit: 'finding a solution'.
You could call it non-poetic alignment.
If you scanned all of Shakespeare to Emerson's time,
(Fairly most poets in the medium),
I doubt you'd find 'solution' even for the rhyme -
The word is a non-conductor - too plebian.
Such words belong to widely different genres -
Mathematics or behavioral psychology,
Disciplines not given to subtle entendre.
If anywhere in verse, perhaps a neo-modern anthology.
Far be it for me to dismiss ideas out of hand -
'Solution' might figure in a poem - it just wouldn't be grand.
No Problem - No Solution
It's a real dilemma finding a resolution
To the problem given as an assignment -
To wit: 'finding a solution'.
You could call it non-poetic alignment.
If you scanned all of Shakespeare to Emerson's time,
(Fairly most poets in the medium),
I doubt you'd find 'solution' even for the rhyme -
The word is a non-conductor - too plebian.
Such words belong to widely different genres -
Mathematics or behavioral psychology,
Disciplines not given to subtle entendre.
If anywhere in verse, perhaps a neo-modern anthology.
Far be it for me to dismiss ideas out of hand -
'Solution' might figure in a poem - it just wouldn't be grand.
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