About these poems––

I have been around a lot of poetry. I know my poems for many wouldn’t pass muster for what is considered to be good poetry. But I don’t care for much of modern poetry. The whole modus operandi of much modern writing, including fiction, does not resonate with me. I sometimes just don’t understand what people like about a particular poet.

I will include my poems here, one at a time. And also something about each of them, eventually. I may try to make these into a little book. Only one or two people have ever seen them, up until now. In any case, they could be considered part of Born Romantic.

Listen Well

Sometimes in the smallest things
life’s true pleasure may be found.
Each smile is a bit of light
to ease the weary work of day.

And when the world feels harsh and cruel,
and greed and meanness all around,
then to yourself some kindness show,
and you will come to find,
there in the dark of night,
a light will come to shine deep inside you,
and loving kindness will make the
hard world good again.

Of a kind so all are we.
In kindness we ourselves do see.

Listen well,
hear within the still small voice.
Listen well,
hear within the voice of love.

Solomon, we concede to you
your endless days’ sun of backward turning.
They were glorious days.
Too few have even yet heard the sound
of your ancient trumpets,
old as the mountains,
and great as the sea.

Yes this night, in the taut place
between the shifting earth plates
a new music is itself singing.
The deer has wandered from the forest glade
and moving out into the unknown chaos,
offers sinew and vein to the Lyre Maker,
and fingers reach between the strings,
and music never yet heard
is forming beneath that pale moon.
‍