Poem of the Week

August 30, 2012 #700

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Labor 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

Let unions bear some blame for their demise.
All were not corrupt, but far too many
Blessed the criminals and kissed their rings,
Organized to serve only themselves.
Remember what is lost when something dies
Despite the need for it. There isn't any
Alternative to what true union brings –
Yearning that with shared resolve rebels.

© by Nicholas Gordon

August 23, 2012 #699

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a poem about angels and 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/week.html .

Yours,

Nick Gordon

My father's angel is 21 years old.
Not that it matters – angels have no age.
Even so, I wonder: What is he thinking?
What is he seeing? What does he remember?

Perhaps he is clairvoyant. Perhaps the old
Man whom I saw through the Buchenwald of age
Is now pure soul, beyond the need for thinking,
One with One, with nothing to remember.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

August 16, 2012 #698

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Eid al-Fitr.

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

Every moment equally is holy.
In Ramadan, we recognize it more.
Days of fasting preach throughout the body;
Appetite obeys a higher law.
Let us now return to the mundane
Fortified by what we have enjoyed,
In lives neither prophetic nor profane,
Toiling daily, gainfully employed,
Restored by holiness, our spirits buoyed.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

August 9, 2012 #697

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is an angel, number, and birthday 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

Sing as though a choir of angels near
Immersed you in the beauty of their song!
Xylophones accompany the throng,
Though trumpets might be easier to hear.
Yet we must use the letters of the year.

Fear not that your voice will be too strong!
Offer them your music, loud and clear!
Understand that angels hold you dear,
Rejoicing as in joy you sing along.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

August 2, 2012 #696

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

For the lucky ones, life is full of love.
One hears its music through both night and day,
Returning in the darkness to its beauty.
The work is just as joyful as the play,
Yielding pleasure that resilient proves.

One dances through the doldrums of one's duty,
Not only for the ends but for the moves,
Each a kind of worship, prayer, praise.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

August 2, 2012 #696

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

For the lucky ones, life is full of love.
One hears its music through both night and day,
Returning in the darkness to its beauty.
The work is just as joyful as the play,
Yielding pleasure that resilient proves.

One dances through the doldrums of one's duty,
Not only for the ends but for the moves,
Each a kind of worship, prayer, praise.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

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

Agostino has been touched by grace,
Giving him the gifts of faith and love.
Of him it can be said he lives in joy,
Singing thanks and praise beneath each breath.
To see him is to be in his embrace.
In him there is a love no loss can move,
Nor passion still, nor evidence destroy,
Only peace along the edge of death.

© by Nicholas Gordon