Poem of the Week

February 24, 2011 #622

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 and clicking on "Poem of the Week."

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 better time of life than now.
Whatever age you are, this time is best.
Ever in the prime of life, the soul
Needs no source of joy more than the whole,
The One, in whom contingent souls are blessed.
Yet one finds joy as time and change allow.

So may you know the pleasures of your years
Even as they pass, for others come,
Vivid in the moments of their being.
Each lives in both the datum and the sum.
Nor can one separate delight from tears.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

January 13, 2011 #616

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

Yours,

Nick Gordon

Hatred has no color, creed, or race.
All hate, more or less, and thus destroy
The fragile ecosystem of the heart,
Restoring which requires faith and grace.
Each must love for any hope of joy,
Disciplining hate with well-honed art.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

November 4, 2010 #606
 
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 post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
 
Yours,
 
Nick Gordon
 
Generations are like streams
Fed by storms in paradise,
Leaping down in waterfalls
That smash upon the rocks below.
 
More placid now, they bear the weight
Of barges on their oily breasts,
And cool the coils of power plants,
And make of love a sacrifice.
 
Near the sea they flatten out
And drop their rage among the reeds,
A swamp of toxic testament
Filtered through the mangrove roots.
 
They start and end with love. Between,
They pick up silt and carry it
Through life, up to the delta's edge,
Where, washed by fear, they join the sea.
 
© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

October 21, 2010 #604
 
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 post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
 
Yours,
 
Nick Gordon
 
Fifty-one is entering the fall,
In which the colors of her life will brighten.
For her the painted world is but a wall
That shields a void no passion can enlighten.
Yet one can mime its mystery in all.
 
O season of remembrance! A shawl
Now covers the dark branches that will whiten,
Each laden with a dream none will recall.
 
© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

October 14, 2010 #603
 
Dear Subscriber:
 
This week’s poem of the week is a political 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 post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
 
Yours,
 
Nick Gordon
 
The triumph of the victor means
The losses have begun.
To be well-nigh invincible
Is to be on the run.
 
Power is a current that
Goes swiftly out to sea.
One's will is wind on grass; one's only
Hope is to be free.
 
Safety lies in wisdom more than
Strength since strength must die,
While wisdom rides the waves beneath which
Sunken victors lie.
 
© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

August 26, 2010 #596
 
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 post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
 
Yours,
 
Nick Gordon
 
I know I cannot satisfy the sun
Nor earn the pleasures of a quiet day;
Spring is not a prize that I have won,
Nor am I here because I've had my say.
My thoughts are not the product of my wits,
Nor are my myths the product of my dreams;
I am a confluence of moments – bits
Of longing borne by cold and laughing streams.
Love also is a gift beyond deserving:
Large-eyed, nocturnal, armed with delicate paws;
Nudging shameless for affection, serving
Equally my need and its own laws.
Miraculously delivered, drunk with light,
I stagger towards the long-expected night.
 
© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

July 8, 2010 #589
 
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 and clicking on "Poem of the Week." 
 
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
 
Yours,
 
Nick Gordon

Fortune comes in many shapes and guises.
It is by choice what one might never choose.
For those who like to limit their surprises,
There's always less to gain and more to lose.
Years bring heartbreak one cannot refuse.
 
Even so, one's fortune is oneself.
If choice and chance like lovers bring to birth
Good progeny or bad, there is no gulf
Hovering between one's wish and worth.
There is but one ecology, one Earth.
   
© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

December 24, 2009 #561

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a Christmas 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

Make not much of what you're missing;
Each gets gifts as they come due.
Rest assured, regarding wishing:
Riches are reserved for you.
Years of want require wanting;
Christmas gives what one receives.
Happiness ought not seem daunting,
Renting space in what one grieves.
In your heart is all you need,
Sustained by giving it away.
Though you burn and break and bleed,
Mere suffering's no place to stay.
As you are is as you will,
Sure of winds that wish you well.

© 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 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

October 1, 2009 #549

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a congratulations poem for a new home.

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

Home is the habit that dwells in habitation.
Out of the familiar comes the longing,
Making place a matter of belonging,
Enduring urge that hungers for relation.

© by Nicholas Gordon

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

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

Poem of the Week

November 27, 2008 #509

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 joy that does not speak of longing,
Having come a long, hard way to love.
All happiness is earned, all bliss belonging,
Nor can one be alone, though lonely prove.
Kindness is a kind of gratitude,
Sign and source of pleasure in one's being,
Giving thanks by giving, as the shrewd
Invest in what they have small chance of seeing.
Very little time is spent in singing.
Instead, we speak of what we want or need,
Not knowing every moment we are bringing
Gifts to those whose music we might read.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

November 20, 2008 #508

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

The whole point of being is
There is no point to being.
Is just simply is
Forever, outside time.

The nothingness you see
Is something you're not seeing.
No thing is ever nothing.
We move, the stars align.

Time is just our motion,
And death, time's timely end.
We remain as is;
The others must move on.

The swiftly passing moment
Is something we transcend,
For all that is just is,
And nothing's ever gone.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

October 2, 2008 #502

GREED GRIPS EVERY HEART, NO LESS THAN LUST

Greed grips every heart, no less than lust.
Reason drowns in fantasies of power.
Even though the journey ends in dust,
Each finds ample cravings in the hour,
Destined to dark seeds that root and flower.

© by Nicholas Gordon

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Poem of the Week

May 1, 2008 #484

Dear Subscriber:

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

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

Yours,

Nick Gordon

Maybe time is like a snowdrift. Spring
Opens up its secrets. And perhaps
There you find what you’ve been looking for.
Harsh winters wait, of course, but there are more
Ecstasies than sorrows under wraps,
Retained in drifts till their awakening.

© by Nicholas Gordon