Poem of the Week

February 10, 2011 #620

Dear Subscriber:

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

Vintners know the value of the soil.
A wine's taste is determined from below.
Love, like wine, takes sun and rain and toil.
Each may vary; the soil remains just so.
Nor can lovers choose the soil their roots
Take hold in. That lies deeper than the will:
In dreams, in loves long past, in lies and truths
None knows, but from the taste that lives distill.
Even so, the toil and the care --
'Twixt sun and rain, 'twixt seasons bad and good --
Sustain the passion, beautiful to share,
Destined to bring forth what joys it would.
All loves bear fruit, that take the time to grow,
Yielding most to those who patience know.

© 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

August 20, 2009 #544

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a love poem. I will be leaving on vacation from August 21 – August 31. The next poem of the week will be sent out on September 3.

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 more, with feeling, please! I've had enough
Of lubricated passion come and gone!
Years and years and years and years of stuff
Squirting, squirting, squirt – and then it's done!
With feeling, please! Companionship, affection,
Shared pain, shared joy, shared silences, shared thoughts.
Not ecstasy fast moving towards rejection,
Frantic with the fear of time and loss.
Slow down, life! Slow down, and be content
Just to be awhile, and let love grow
Or not, as seedlings by the wind are sent
To find their bit of fertile earth, or no.
Let there be no ecstasy until
The plant has been well tended by the will.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

June 25, 2009 #538

Dear Subscriber:

This week’s poem of the week is a poem about love and lust.

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

Lust is no more physical than love.
Feeling is the fuel that feeds that fire,
A flame that might, controlled, pure pleasure prove.
The language of the psyche is desire.
One is dragged towards ecstasy by need:
For power, vengeance, salience, self-esteem.
One wants sometimes to make one's landscape bleed,
To penetrate the borders of the dream.
Lust's a fantasy, sometimes made real,
Oft sustained by willful ignorance.
The more one sees, the more one's apt to feel
A need for what the love of others grants.
Within love's bounds, lust can be a joy;
Outside of love, it is a child's toy.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

March 12, 2009 #523

Dear Subscriber:

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

So let it go, that mythic Ireland!
Treasure the past, but let it, let it go!
Perhaps it was at one time wholly our land --
All of it – but that was long ago.
The time when states were nations is now ending.
Races know no borders; people move
In search of life, their clothes and colors rending
Cultures that must now their presence prove.
Know, then, that not politics, but art,
'Mid neighbors various in faith and race,
Sustains a people's history and heart,
Dependent more on ritual than place.
As on St. Patrick's Day we march in green,
Yet we must let go the blood-drenched dream.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Poem of the Week

March 5, 2009 #522

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 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 last depression led to holocaust.
The rationale for massacre is fear.
Long before it starts, the game is lost.
The neighborhood of hate is always here.
The best place to begin is one's own heart.
There the mad dogs pull against their chains,
Lusting to tear some stranger's throat apart,
Rage that only love and patience tames.
Each heart becomes a lantern in a crowd.
Yes, people see according to your light,
As you by theirs – but speak of love aloud,
Lest other voices drown the coming night.
And do not turn away from victims' cries,
For evil's spooked by nothing more than eyes.

© by Nicholas Gordon