Thursday, February 26, 2009

Poem of the Week

February 26, 2009 #521

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

Once a paladin
Rode into mountains
Seeking himself
Among barren stones.

He was a spring
Covered by fountains,
Or an immortal elf
In a dungeon of bones.

Long he rode weary
Through high mountain passes
And deep, lonely canyons
Untouched by the sun.

Long he rode dreary
'Mid snow-covered masses,
His dreams for companions,
And still he rode on.

Yet he found nothing
That matched his ambition
To see himself naked
Of what was not him:

That singular something
Beyond all condition,
The soul he'd forsaken
For life's daily din.

He came on a hermit
Praying in shadow,
Unmoving for hours
In the early spring cold;

His hut near a summit
In a high mountain meadow
Covered with flowers,
Red, white, and gold.

Finally moving,
He turned towards the paladin,
Blank as a snowfield,
Silent as space;

The soul simply choosing
To pass its brief time within,
Steadfastly sealed
Behind its locked face.

“Good Sir,” said the paladin,
“Long have I wandered
In search of the soul
That somehow I lost.

“My life has been sin,
My brief moment squandered,
Yet I would be whole
Regardless of cost.

“O holy man,
Show me the truth
Known to those few
At being's bright core!

“And, if you can,
Yourself be the proof,
For I would be you --
I ask nothing more.”

The hermit then opened
His eyes wide as saucers.
Behind them was emptiness,
Nothing at all.

Sheer nothingness beckoned
Like death 'neath life's wonders,
The absolute stillness
That makes the flesh crawl.

“O God!” shrieked the paladin,
“Heaven, please save me!”
And down from the mountains
He fled on his steed;

Back towards profusion,
The commerce that daily
Surrounds the great fountains
That simple springs feed.

Back, back to the world
Of passion and plunder
The paladin raced
Away from that sight

Of a self self-dissolved
In the truth that lay under
The truth – just a taste
Of the cold, waiting night.

Nor did he ever
Recover from seeing
That vision of nothingness
At being's heart.

Alas! He could never
Embrace his own being,
And so performed graceless
His pitiful part.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Poem of the Week

February 19, 2009 #520

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Washington's Birthday.

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

The President was without precedent
At the time that he took on the post.
Equally homespun and elegant,
He struck the precisely right note.

Refusing the power of kings,
He yet understood that the State
Required what reverence brings:
A loyalty one can create.

And so he became The Great Leader,
The focus of wide adulation.
Yet only a one-time repeater,
He served not the man, but the nation.

He gave to the State what the states
Could only recopy writ small:
The sense of a Center the fates
Must bless for the good of us all.

He played well the hero who held
The Union together those years,
Until the still-thin mixture jelled,
And fact was more forceful than fears;

Till the other great president we
Now jam into one day for two
Kept the Union together and free,
The gift of the first to renew.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Poem of the Week

February 12, 2009 #519

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a Valentine's 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

Some might think, perhaps, that I'm not pleased
At how you've trivialized my name and day.
In fact, I think romantic love's one way
New recruits for paradise are seized.
True, the object is the kind that's squeezed.
Very well! We're flesh, and though we may
Awaken first to lust, at last love's play
Leads us to redemption by degrees.
Each soul must find its way from love to Love,
Needing love, beside itself with need,
Though through pride reluctant to give in.
In cards and flowers, chocolate hearts, and such,
None but must recite love's gentle creed,
Each proclaiming tenderness within.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Poem of the Week

February 5, 2009 #518

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a love 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

The bond of love is not desire, but need.
Desire fades; need with wisdom grows:
The need to be needed, and the need to need.

But why the need to need when one is freed
By needing less of that which comes and goes?
The bond of love is not desire, but need.

And why need to be needed? Why should one cede
What one might well enjoy for what one owes?
The need to be needed, and the need to need

Are longings of the sower for the seed,
And the seed for the sower, who whistles as he sows.
The bond of love is not desire, but need.

Love is longing, by dint of death decreed,
The beauty and the terror life bestows,
The need to be needed, and the need to need

Embedded in one's being, as indeed,
Being needs Creation, which it once chose.
The bond of love is not desire, but need:
The need to be needed, and the need to need.

© by Nicholas Gordon