Wednesday, April 25, 2012

April 26, 2012 #682

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a name 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/week.html .

Yours,

Nick Gordon

ABNER/ABNER

Abner likes to do what is expected,
Being in agreement with the rules.
Now and then, of course, he feels rejected,
Even though no duty is neglected,
Restored by thinking pride is meant for fools.

Abner likes to do the unexpected,
Being in rebellion against rules.
Now and then, of course, he feels neglected,
Even though no outrage is rejected,
Restored by thinking most of us are fools.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Poem of the Week

April 19, 2012 #681

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Earth 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/week.html .

Yours,

Nick Gordon

Each must save the Earth in multiple ways.
A vote can cut more carbon than a bulb.
Rules, like acid rain, can span the globe,
Taking aim at those whom blight won't faze.
Hard as many try, it will not do.
Development devours their mite and more.
An equal sacrifice requires a law.
Yet laws are passed by those obliged to you.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Poem of the Week

April 12, 2012 #680

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a philosophical number 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/week.html .

Yours,

Nick Gordon

Eighty has good reason to be grateful.
If being is a gift, then he's been given
Gift enough to compensate for pain.
Happiness depends on being thankful,
The sense of grace that makes the moment heaven.
Years come and go – the longing stays the same.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Poem of the Week

April 5, 2012 #679

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Passover and Easter.

You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com/week.html .

Yours,

Nick Gordon

Enter now the king, all but insane,
Accompanied by his daughter, who would be
Sacrificed to calm a raging sea,
The start of much bad blood, revenge, and pain.
Enter now the ram, who would retain
Remnants of that ancient agony,
Put in place of the child the father would free,
As God would not require a child again.
So enter now the lamb, a sacrifice
Self-sought to still that ancient desperation,
One that would turn the lust for blood to love.
Vengeance and desire turn hearts to ice
Even as the soul looks for salvation,
Restored by rites that would a god's heart move.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Poem of the Week

March 29, 2012 #678

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a psychological 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/week.html .

Yours,

Nick Gordon

I NEED TO TALK TO YOU

PARENTS:

I need to talk to you, my dear,
Of many, many things:
Of what I wish and what I dream
And what my silence sings;

Of all the things I want for you
And all the things I fear,
And all the things I try to say
But never can make clear.

I wish that you could know me, yet
I'm glad that you do not.
Sometimes I see in you the unformed
Person I forgot.

I wish I could protect you
From all that conquered me,
And make of you a mirror of
The self I could not be.

CHILDREN:

I need to talk to you, right now!
I've got a lot to say
About the way you handle me
And why I act this way.

I know you love me, though sometimes
Your anger's all I see.
But if I do just what you want,
Then I'll be you, not me.

I need to get you off my back
And also have you near.
I need to learn the limits of
My courage and my fear.

I need to ramble on my own
And sometimes, yes, get lost,
And touch the heart of ecstasy
Regardless of the cost.

GRANDPARENTS:

I need to talk to all of you,
I am so much alone.
I hope that you can spare for me
Five minutes on the phone.

My life was once so full of life,
So packed with toil and love.
Now it's full of memories
That dance but do not move.

You do not know me really now --
To you I'm mainly old,
Befuddled, frail, incompetent,
A child you have to scold.

But inside I'm still mainly me,
The one who made you, you,
Now a husk without a seed
And little left to do.

ALL:

I need to talk to you, I need
All of you to know
The me I think of as myself,
The me I rarely show.

By those I love the most, I find
That I'm most often seen
Through acts I would undo and words
I do not really mean.

I need to tell you everything
That bursts within my heart,
Simply, just the way it is,
With neither craft nor art.

I need you all to see me
With love and sympathy,
And so I need to talk to you --
You need to talk to me?

© by Nicholas Gordon

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Poem of the Week

March 22, 2012 #677

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Spring.

You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com/week.html .

Yours,

Nick Gordon

Spring surprises us, no matter how
Prepared we are to revel in its bloom,
Returning far too late yet far too soon,
Instantly from bud to blossoming bough.
Nor does it wait for us to take it in,
Gone to green before it well has been.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Poem of the Week

March 15, 2012 #676

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a poem for St. Patrick's 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/week.html .

Yours,

Nick Gordon

Some would satisfy their utmost longings,
Always reaching for what lies beyond.
I know well the soul has no belongings,
Neither short-term lease nor long-term bond.
Though I long for You, I know You're with me.
Peace comes through delivery from desire.
All Your love for all burns right through me.
There is nothing left that I require.
Rich in faith, I can be poor in fashion,
Intending but to be Your instrument.
Called to this green land, I preach Your passion.
Kings come to me through You, their crowned heads bent.

© by Nicholas Gordon