Thank
You
For
Visiting!
|
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
email David
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
next
~ menu
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.
menu
/ Link
to David's music / to
Moongate
|
