I met a seer Poem

I met a seer | Poem by Stephen Crane

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I met a seer.

He held in his hands
The book of wisdom.

“Sir,” I addressed him,
“Let me read.

“Child — ” he began.

“Sir,” I said,
“Think not that I am a child,
For already I know much
Of that which you hold.

Aye, much.

He smiled.

Then he opened the book
And held it before me.

Strange that I should have grown so suddenly blind.

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Stephen Crane – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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I Love The Naked Ages Long Ago Poem

I Love The Naked Ages Long Ago | Poem by Charles Baudelaire

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I love the naked ages long ago
When statues were gilded by Apollo,
When men and women of agility
Could play without lies and anxiety,
And the sky lovingly caressed their spines,
As it exercised its noble machine.

Fertile Cybele, mother of nature, then,
Would not place on her daughters a burden,
But, she-wolf sharing her heart with the people,
Would feed creation from her brown nipples.

Men, elegant and strong, would have the right
To be proud to have beauty named their king;
Virgin fruit free of blemish and cracking,
Whose flesh smooth and firm would summon a bite!
The Poet today, when he would convey
This native grandeur, would not be swept away
By man free and woman natural,
But would feel darkness envelop his soul
Before this black tableau full of loathing.

O malformed monsters crying for clothing!
O ludicrous heads! Torsos needing disguise!
O poor writhing bodies of every wrong size,
Children that the god of the Useful swaths
In the language of bronze and brass!
And women, alas! You shadow your heredity,
You gnaw nourishment from debauchery,
A virgin holds maternal lechery
And all the horrors of fecundity!

We have, it is true, corrupt nations,
Beauty unknown to the radiant ancients:
Faces that gnaw through the heart’s cankers,
And talk with the cool beauty of languor;
But these inventions of our backward muses
Are never hindered in their morbid uses
Of the old for profound homage to youth,
?To the young saint, the sweet air, the simple truth,
To the eye as limpid as the water current,
To spread out over all, insouciant
Like the blue sky, the birds and the flowers,
Its perfumes, its songs and its sweet fervors.

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Charles Baudelaire – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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I looked here Poem

I looked here | Poem by Stephen Crane

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I looked here;
I looked there;
Nowhere could I see my love.

And — this time —
She was in my heart.

Truly, then, I have no complaint,
For though she be fair and fairer,
She is none so fair as she
In my heart.

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Stephen Crane – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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CONTEMPLATION Poem

CONTEMPLATION | Poem by Charles Baudelaire

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THOU, O my Grief, be wise and tranquil still,
The eve is thine which even now drops down,
To carry peace or care to human will,
And in a misty veil enfolds the town.

While the vile mortals of the multitude,
By pleasure, cruel tormentor, goaded on,
Gather remorseful blossoms in light mood–
Grief, place thy hand in mine, let us be gone

Far from them.
Lo, see how the vanished years,
In robes outworn lean over heaven’s rim;
And from the water, smiling through her tears,

Remorse arises, and the sun grows dim;
And in the east, her long shroud trailing light,
List, O my grief, the gentle steps of Night.

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Charles Baudelaire – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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Change Upon Change Poem

Change Upon Change | Poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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Five months ago the stream did flow,
The lilies bloomed within the sedge,
And we were lingering to and fro,
Where none will track thee in this snow,
Along the stream, beside the hedge.

Ah, Sweet, be free to love and go!
For if I do not hear thy foot,
The frozen river is as mute,
The flowers have dried down to the root:
And why, since these be changed since May,
Shouldst thou change less than they.

And slow, slow as the winter snow
The tears have drifted to mine eyes;
And my poor cheeks, five months ago
Set blushing at thy praises so,
Put paleness on for a disguise.

Ah, Sweet, be free to praise and go!
For if my face is turned too pale,
It was thine oath that first did fail, —
It was thy love proved false and frail, —
And why, since these be changed enow,
Should I change less than thou.

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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Black riders came from the sea Poem

Black riders came from the sea | Poem by Stephen Crane

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Black riders came from the sea.

There was clang and clang of spear and shield,
And clash and clash of hoof and heel,
Wild shouts and the wave of hair
In the rush upon the wind:
Thus the ride of sin.

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Stephen Crane – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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A Time to Talk Poem

A Time to Talk | Poem by Robert Frost

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When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don’t stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven’t hoed,
And shout from where I am, ‘What is it?’
No, not as there is a time talk.

I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

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Robert Frost – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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One Scheduled Poem

This world where
hippies and blacks
are locked up
was planned
fifty years ago
………..to make votes not count.

All the children are quiet

None will say
they ate the medicine
because they like
hippies and blacks ,
locked up,
so they are quiet
as their children die
from real drug dealers who
smile as
the hippies and blacks
the hippies and blacks
are locked up
while they count the money
and smoke big cigars
at the club
and win the elections

Everybody is the same so I cannot complain

Can you hear me in there
am I really in here
along alone all all alone alone,
on a wide wide sea
so how have you come to me
alone on the sea,
the wide the wide wide sea
so how have you come to me,
to sit on my knee?
Oh I have wandered the stream.
My feet have felt the stones in the creek bed.
Everybody is the same so I cannot complain.
Everybody is the same so I cannot complain.
my soul washes from the sea
my love my love
the wind will always blow your hair.
In this moment which is never really
here or there
we are an illusion that others see
for we cannot see ourselves
and when we see, we cannot see
and it is that we cannot see
that is our crutch and our seal
stuck from the wax of our burning candle

What Party is this Church

I live in the South. It’s called the Bible Belt for a reason, it’s a very religious place. It is a birthplace of fundamental Christianity. Apocalyptic thinking is not new, Christ has been coming back since he left. It is been said that impeaching Trump would cause a Civil War because of the attachment of this president to that very apocalyptic thinking. It has been said that Trump has been “sent by God”.

When one thinks of the apocalypse, it therefore follows that there are two major figures in Revelation, the Christ and the anti-Christ. There are false prophets and various and sundry others, but these two stand out. Is Trump Jesus? Judging by what the two men are reported to have said, Trump is probably not Jesus. They seem to say opposite things these two, and Trump’s been here all along, so he could not have returned. Scratch Trump being Jesus. The other figure is the fourth horseman, the anti-Christ. Well, Putin does ride a horse, and Donald Trump doesn’t. This anti-Christ had been reported to be many people over the centuries. Could they be all wrong and it turns out to be some Russian interfering in elections? See what a web can be woven?
The separation of church and state and the First Amendment were meant to keep apocalyptic thinking out of politics. Religion is about faith and belief. We are asked to trade judgment and critical thinking for faith. When that type of thinking is placed in the political world or the scientific world it leads to chaos. Separating our two worlds, one of faith and one of logic, is a basic function of the human mind, a basic tenet of our lives. It was appropriate to separate them in our government.

Faith-based science doesn’t work. Pure logic doesn’t work with religion which requires suspension of logic. Both faith and logic have a place in our individual thinking, but we separate them. “Faith doesn’t repair the car, and logic won’t get you to heaven”.
Mixing religion and politics was not in the plan and is doing a lot of harm. When we put religion in our government, we also put politics in our church. When give unto Caesar becomes preach for Caesar, our religion is compromised. When we have to ask what faith is my government, we have to also ask what party is this church.

 

 

David Michael Jackson

Put a Poem in the Box

They are scattered,

these magnetic spots I have created,

like leaves hidden in a vast forest,

these DNA words left in boxes

to find

in the attic

where boxes of words are kept

until some child of words opens the box

and browses the words

and

pauses

silent and not so alone

after all.

 

David Michael Jackson

Lost in America Poem by Ken Peters

 Lost In America
   wanted to be in this country

   can’t pay the dues

   the ground fees are too much

   one neighbor’s a racist

   the other’s a sexist

   couple across the way

   are homophobes

   politicians are for sale

   doctors are entrepreneurs

   ministers spew hate and fear

   a used car salesmen told me a lie

   so did a president

   people talk at me

   want me to be

   just like them

   my heart is a cage

   blood rats

   spinning the wheels

   but I’m too tired

   to feel rage

   had enough
       – Ken Peters

Moongate

April 14, 2012