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Link to David's music

WILDFLOWERS BEGUILE ME
.
SHE ASSAYED A MYSTERIOUS QUEST
,
THINKING OF WALT WHITMAN WASHINGTON, D. C.
.
read what other poets are saying about this poem

Links to David's poems published elsewhere

A week end at the beach, guided by two centuries of poetry

Elvis in Hell

untitled

Full Moon Over the Peninsula, a Rabbit, and Two Dogs

Spring Comes to the River

Moving to Kingstown

A Spirit of Solitude on 14th Street

Ode to an Antidepressant

Personal String Theory
 

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WILDFLOWERS BEGUILE ME


On the roadside, among the teasel,
The fleabanes and spiderwort,
Pushing up through debris --
Bindweeds and morning-glory, among
Crushed aluminum and shards of glass --
Neighbor to the black ant, the
Red ant, the mockingbird;
Atop the ox-eye daisy
Or beneath pokeweed and mallow;
Among the chickweeds and
Partner to the sun, all around these
I am roving, I, young, yet a stranger to the
Musty shadows of libraries, learn of
An inexpressible love of ruined places.
It is faded paper cups, sun painted oil on
Asphalt, and even the stray tragedy of
An animal corpse. Every human voice
         within me
Speaks against it: These are weeds, this
Is death, and the living death that 
         bankrupts life.
But the black-eyed-Susan, the dandelion,
The bees, even the sunwarmed, radiant
Asphalt have beguiled me into thinking
Surely this, too, is heaven?
- David Donlon

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SHE ASSAYED A MYSTERIOUS QUEST

For the last time let's gird up the knight:
The shinning armor, sharp sword and shield,
Helm and visor; lead the charger
Toward battle, to tilt with the dragon that is
Not woman but the myth of woman,
Once more, and finally, to slay the many
Liv'd beast, and let the woman come out
As she may, at least no longer mythy.

Draw thy sword and swing as you pass, warrior!
Yet, no? Do you dare tempt the wrath of the beast?
Stay -- surely that shining hair that spills out
Thy helm belongs to no man. Then at your own
Command, warrior!I am no sovereign here. Thy
Self is sovereign and beholden to none, not even
To a poet. At this pass, perhaps she will ... yet
As she may. What? Dismounted? Oh, woman,
What is thy game? I am overmastered here -- I
Must hold my tongue, or write of men and dogs.
 
 

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