Thursday, January 28, 2010

Poem of the Week

January 28, 2010 #566

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a get well 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

Grace comes with a patina of pain.
Each creature must endure what it desires.
There are days one would not wish again,
When all one is, is wish till pain expires.
Expire it does in time, and will for you,
Lest it seem as though time will not run,
Lounging by the bed though dawn is due,
Sensing savagely you want it gone.
Oh, yes, we know that this is life, though we
Outlive both pain and joy. The will to be
Nothing wills but for the inner One.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Poem of the Week

January 21, 2010 #565

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a 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 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

Forty-eight reserves the right to ramble,
Open to what gifts might come her way,
Remembering that every day's a gamble,
That absolutely nothing's here to stay,
Yearning for far more than she can say.

Even love eternal cannot last.
In time it passes on, like hours, like years,
Granting grace in golden goblets cast,
Hammered in a heat that blinds and sears,
That breaks the heart with happiness and tears.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Poem of the Week

January 14, 2010 #564

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Martin Luther King, Jr.'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

Maybe there is more to life than living.
A person is a ripple in a stream,
Roiling the waters with a dream,
The revelation that makes life worth giving.
In love one finds a reason for believing,
Needing love to make life more than seem,
Love that makes the mundane moment gleam,
Undoing fate with faith, and death with grieving.
There is no love but at the risk of death,
Having valued something more than self,
Embracing what gives life to life, and grace,
Replacing fear of death or loss with joy.
Know then that the dreaded end of breath
Is not the end one ought to aim for, else
None would speak to fortune face to face,
Granted life no bullet can destroy.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Poem of the Week

January 7, 2010 #563

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is an anniversary 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

Happiness hangs loosely on your lives,
A garment that you wear with fortune's blessing.
Praised be both the wisdom and the will
Pressed between the pages of your days,
Years and years of choices amid chances.

For now, this day, the rhapsody revives
Old memories of love beyond expressing,
Returned as music, passionate and still,
That turns and turns with wonder as it plays,
Yearning that refuses trite romances.

There is a place in all love that survives --
Home, where nakedness needs no undressing,
In which, with candor and sufficient skill,
Reason turns away its clear-eyed gaze,
Deferring to the heart, which weeps and dances.

© by Nicholas Gordon