P is for Poem

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

by E. E. Cummings

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

P is for Poem

The Man Hunt

My name is "Miss Matilda Ann"

And I am looking for a man.

He can be thin, fat, short or tall,

Size doesn't matter much at all.

It matters not what shade his hair

Or if there isn't any there.

As long as he is neat and kind

His looks I really do not mind.

Someone's who's there through thin and thick,

Who'll wash the dishes when I'm sick,

And when the winter snow is gone

He'll gladly help me mow the lawn.

He'll help me plant the garden seeds,

And even pull his share of weeds.

I'm sure I'd make a first class wife

And we would live a happy life.

With someone honest, kind and fair

My worldly goods I'll gladly share.

I had a friend, his name was Jim,

I really thought a lot of him.

I hoped he'd ask to marry me,

Then very happy we would be.

He called on me most every night,

We'd watch T.V., he'd hold me tight.

One night he said "Matilda Ann,

I'd really like to be your man.

If you consent to marry me

We'll live together happily."

I didn't know just what to say,

It sort of took my breath away.

But then I thought it would be best

To put him to a little test.

So I said:

"Jim, there's a mouse caught in the trap,

It's tail still has a little flap,

It makes me nervous as can be

Will you please take it out for me?

And there's some junk I wish you'd take

Out to the dump down by the lake.

Will you rid of it for me

Before we sit and watch T.V.?"

Then Jim said:

"But I have on a brand new shirt.

I don't want it all over dirt.

I really think Matilda Ann

That you should get a handy man.

I will not do each little task,

And you best learn not to ask."

Then I said, "Jim you'd better go!

The answer to your question's 'No!'

I really can not marry

If little chores you will not do.

If you can't do a little chore

Please don't come 'round here any more."

And as he left I heard him shout

"I'll take the mouse and garbage out!"

I shouted back "You're just too late!

And don't forget to close the gate."

I'm glad his lazy streak I found,

Don't want a lazy man around.

So now again I'm all alone,

No one at all to call my own.

I'm getting lonelier every day,

I want a man and right away.

Don't mind if over you I scan,

I'm only looking for a man.

-Jean Simpson (Grandma)

P is for Poem

White Rabbit
I can make magic with my hands.
I can't tell you about it
Cause it just sounds bad
But I started showing some of the guys.
Neil first, he asked me if I knew any tricks
So I told him to meet me in the woods
And I showed it to him.
He was more surprised then I expected.
Neil told Josh, Shawn and Joel
So one by one I took them into the woods
And showed them.
They were all just as surprised
And they said I should keep practicing
So now we go into the woods regularly
And they all say I'm improving.
There's even talk about starting a club
And meeting in Joel's basement Tuesdays
While his mom is at her meeting.

This was a poem that did not get accepted in the last Her Royal Majesty quarterly art and literary online publication. Maybe you'll have better luck with the next deadline August 25th ... the theme is language.

O is for Ocean , P is for Poem

OUT of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop gently to me,
Whispering I love you, before long I die,
I have travel'd a long way merely to look on you to touch you,
For I could not die till I once look'd on you,
For I fear'd I might afterward lose you.

Verse 1 from Nicholas Hughes Edge

Verse 1 from Walt Whitman's Out of the Rolling Ocean, the Crowd

P is for Poem

Separations

Yesterday's thaw and last night's chill

have left a thin skim of ice

like roots or hair running down

the sidewalk cracks.

I'm watching how I walk,

picking carefully on the way to work.

I pass a lady with a shopping cart

and a horrible wet cough,

see a wasp's nest in the branches

become a torn garbage bag,

and realize that the sun as it rises

is turning the thin ice back to water.

What a difference a degree makes,

a slight shift and winter's grip

eases. And our grip on the way things are.

I keep returning to that woman's cough,

the miseries we inflict on each other

simply becaue we don't have the strength

to stand on our own.

The small gap between fear and

compassion, and how it too is governed

by our own internal sun.

That my sun has been through a long darkness,

but that it rises again as I wake

to the wonders around me.

Ben Gallagher