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Poetry Offerings From David Donlon | Poem

 

 

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WILDFLOWERSBEGUILE ME
.
SHEASSAYED A MYSTERIOUS QUEST
,
THINKING OF WALT WHITMANWASHINGTON, D. C.
.
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FullMoon Over the Peninsula, a Rabbit, and Two Dogs

SpringComes to the River

Movingto Kingstown

ASpirit of Solitude on 14th Street

Odeto an Antidepressant

PersonalString Theory
 

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WILDFLOWERS BEGUILEME


On the roadside,among the teasel,
The fleabanes andspiderwort,
Pushing up throughdebris --
Bindweeds and morning-glory,among
Crushed aluminumand shards of glass --
Neighbor to the blackant, the
Red ant, the mockingbird;
Atop the ox-eye daisy
Or beneath pokeweedand mallow;
Among the chickweedsand
Partner to the sun,all around these
I am roving, I, young,yet a stranger to the
Musty shadows oflibraries, learn of
An inexpressiblelove of ruined places.
It is faded papercups, sun painted oil on
Asphalt, and eventhe stray tragedy of
An animal corpse.Every human voice
        within me
Speaks against it:These are weeds, this
Is death, and theliving death that 
        bankrupts life.
But the black-eyed-Susan,the dandelion,
The bees, even thesunwarmed, radiant
Asphalt have beguiledme into thinking
Surely this, too,is heaven?
- David Donlon

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SHEASSAYED A MYSTERIOUS QUEST

For the last timelet's gird up the knight:
The shinning armor,sharp sword and shield,
Helm and visor; leadthe charger
Toward battle, totilt with the dragon that is
Not woman but themyth of woman,
Once more, and finally,to slay the many
Liv'd beast, andlet the woman come out
As she may, at leastno longer mythy.

Draw thy sword andswing as you pass, warrior!
Yet, no? Do you daretempt the wrath of the beast?
Stay -- surely thatshining hair that spills out
Thy helm belongsto no man. Then at your own
Command, warrior!Iam no sovereign here. Thy
Self is sovereignand beholden to none, not even
To a poet. At thispass, 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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