Poem of the Week

December 17, 2009 #560

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a Season's Greetings poem.

You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.

You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.

Yours,

Nick Gordon

Sense makes little sense this time of year.
Each has reason to dispense with reason.
As darkness soon descends, the festive season
Shines out upon vast rolling fields of fear.
Old customs still survive, long loved and dear,
Now bought and sold, it's true, as is the fashion,
Still filling faith with poetry and passion,
Giving to dark days a touch of cheer.
Reason says there's little cause for worry:
Electric lights have long since tamed the darkness;
Even winter doesn't wish us harm,
Taught to be a nuisance well contained.
In our hearts, though, time still stirs the slurry;
Now the dark stokes fears of nothingness.
Gifts mean more, and love becomes the warm
Sanctum in which hope can be sustained.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

December 10, 2009 #559

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a Hanukkah poem.

You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.

You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.

Yours,

Nick Gordon

Candles dance on their menorah,
Happy to be burning bright!
All the children dance the hora,
Nimbly leaping with delight!
Understand the miracle
Kindled by a match that sings,
A cantor with his canticle,
Here to give the moment wings.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

December 3, 2009 #558

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a poem about death.

You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.

You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.

Yours,

Nick Gordon

Years turn the pages; the book remains.
No one can see the life it contains.
The story is over; it sits on a shelf
Outside of time, complete in itself.
Ah! Could we know! But never we will.
Now it is sealed, silent and still.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

November 26, 2009 #557

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a Thanksgiving Day poem.

You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.

You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.

Yours,

Nick Gordon

There is no hope without the help of grief.
Hope is kindled from a bed of ashes,
A history of holocausts and lashes,
Needing anguish to persuade belief;
Kindled only by a desperation
Strong enough to dry a pelting rain,
Grace that is the apogee of pain,
Intending more than personal salvation.
Vested in each sorrow is a dream,
Innocence surrounded by despair;
Nor are we grateful just for what is there,
Giving thanks for what we would redeem.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

November 19, 2009 #556

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a poem about marriage.

You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.

You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.

Yours,

Nick Gordon

I do not understand why you don't love me.
You loved me once. What changed? What did I do?
Your eyes are mirrors in which I can't see me.
Your lips are closed, a door I can't pass through.
For years we shared our bodies, thoughts, and lives.
Now we lie at night encased in stone.
Something's turned the simplest words to knives.
I live with you, and yet I live alone.
I do not want to be the one who leaves.
After all, I'm not the one who changed.
But dead is dead, and for the one who grieves,
The loved one should be gone, not just estranged.
You say that nothing's wrong and all is well,
But I well know the truth you will not tell.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

November 12, 2009 #555

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a philosophical poem.

You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.

You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.

Yours,

Nick Gordon

You live in the world you choose.
Each act is a creation.
The evil and the good
Combine in just proportion.

What you see and know,
What you think and feel,
What you are and do --
All are by your choice.

Choose love, and you'll be loved.
Choose hate, and you'll be hated.
Everything you choose,
You'll see in others' eyes.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

November 5, 2009 #554

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Veterans Day.

You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.

You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.

Yours,

Nick Gordon

Very soon I'll hear the victims' screams,
Even in the midst of my content,
The end not quite enough to quell the means,
Each nightmare not exactly what I meant.
Recruited in a time of peace, I went
Abroad to serve more adolescent dreams,
Not unaware, of course, I might be sent
Someday to where the widow wails and keens.
Dumb ignorance! For now I must repent
Aberrations no regret redeems,
Yet hounding me like dogs on mayhem bent.

© by Nicholas Gordon