This week’s poem of the week is a poem about charity written for the Little Sisters of the Poor, who care for the elderly.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Let there be joy, always joy in giving,
In serving those who cannot serve themselves.
There is no better gift one gets from living
Than that sweet will that from the heart upwells.
Let there be pleasure in giving others pleasure,
Enjoyment in giving others joy,
Sheer happiness, beyond all one might measure,
In toiling in a loving God's employ.
So may we be the instruments of love,
The flesh of God's will working in the world,
Each a thread within the banner of
Redemption, to the winds of time unfurled.
Sacrifice is then no sacrifice,
Obligation then no obligation,
For what is gained has neither peer nor price,
There being none remotely in relation.
How might one find sanctity in service,
Each menial task a grateful act of prayer?
Perhaps if one believed that life was senseless,
Old folk were simply woe one wouldn't share.
Only love gives dignity to all,
Restoring faith in those who heed its call.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Memorial Day about the joy and pain of memories.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Memories evoke a painful joy,
Evoke a harsh and bitter tenderness.
Maybe that’s the price of happiness:
One loves what time or tempest will destroy.
Remember, then, those whom you have loved
In mingled joy and sorrow. Sing a song
As beautiful as is your love, and mourn
Like one who is by some chance blessing moved.
Days of mourning are a celebration,
A dance whose healing grace sustains relation,
Yielding grief that will redemptive prove.
This week’s poem of the week is a college graduation poem.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Glad to graduate and sad to leave.
Ready and not ready for what’s next.
Afloat on buoyant dreams and deep in debt.
Determined both to give and to receive.
Uncertain what the future has in store.
Aware of an enormous inner change
That makes these years worthwhile, a greater range
In which to ramble, seeking to learn more.
Open to a richer world of mind.
Now moving forward as I look behind.
This week’s poem of the week is a college graduation poem.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Glad to graduate and sad to leave.
Ready and not ready for what’s next.
Afloat on buoyant dreams and deep in debt.
Determined both to give and to receive.
Uncertain what the future has in store.
Aware of an enormous inner change
That makes these years worthwhile, a greater range
In which to ramble, seeking to learn more.
Open to a richer world of mind.
Now moving forward as I look behind.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem to a single mother for Mother’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/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
How might I repay you for your love
And all those years of lonely sacrifice?
Perhaps no homage would sufficient prove;
Perhaps there are no words that would suffice.
Yet in my heart there’s music I can’t sing,
More beauty than my poor voice can express,
Oceans from which I these few drops wring,
Tokens of a tearful tenderness.
How did you bear those years when you alone
Embraced, supported, guided us, and not
Reproached your fate, or even in your tone,
'Mid all that drudgery, resent your lot?
So might I learn from you the secret of
Desiring what life brings to one through love,
And so, perhaps, by who I am repay
Your yearning as I could no other way.
This week’s poem of the week is a fifth anniversary poem with angels.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Happy fifth anniversary!
Angels hover near!
Perhaps you cannot see them, but,
Pleased as punch, they're here!
Yet if you doubt, just listen,
For music does not lie.
In zillions they are singing;
For you they fill the sky,
Their rainbowed wings aflutter,
Hosanna-ing on high!
This week’s poem of the week is a poem about moral ecology, or how each of us shapes the world in which all of us live.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
The sun is filtered through a canopy
High above the limits of your senses.
In cool, lush shade you live a sheltered life,
Refreshed by love, restored by child and wife,
There being little need for strong defenses.
You know, then, just how precious is each tree.
The life of each shapes all life equally.
Happiness and sorrow know no fences.
Roots serve the soil even in their strife.
Each fingered branch has larger consequences.
Each thought comes from beyond what you can see.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for both Passover and Easter about the need to respect all religions.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Praised be those who worship God with love
And set aside the enmities of old.
Salvation is a tale often told,
Sensing what one can’t be certain of.
One’s faith precisely is what one can’t prove,
Vivid though one finds it to behold,
Each touch of truth a moment wrought in gold,
Revealing what no turmoil can remove.
Even so, belief must be a choice,
As fact ought not, nor probability,
Sure only of what can be proven wrong.
The muse of faith requires an inner voice
Emanating from a soul that’s free,
Respecting all that each might find her song.
This week’s poem of the week is an epitaph for someone who lived a conscientious life.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Stand up for justice, but always do it justly,
Easing conscience conscientiously.
You cannot hope to render right but rightly.
Means are ends, though unintentionally.
One must be the world that one envisions,
Unwaveringly creating what one would,
Requiring that each of one’s decisions
Embody only what is just and good.
In life I tried to be my own ideal,
Careful to remain at heart naïve,
Having a good sense of what is real
Even as I lived as I believed
Life should be, leavening what I must leave.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem about love and longing.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Lovers and good friends are joined by longing,
The glue that holds humanity together.
We have an innate hunger for belonging,
Designed to make us love each other better.
So do not think dependence is a failing.
It is inseparable from who you are.
You might have a yen for solo sailing,
But loneliness still haunts you from afar.
Allow yourself your weakness. It’s a strength
To have the courage to accept your needs.
Lovers find that courage, or at length
Find, as passion fades, that love recedes.
Passions are tides that, restless, come and go.
But love is a spring that draws from deep below.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Mothering Sunday (British Mother’s Day) about non-birth mothers.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Mothers are not only of the womb.
One can mother children not one's own.
The love one gives makes gardens out of stone,
However one is kindred to each bloom.
Even as we render tribute due,
Remember that it also is for you,
Song to one who would the task assume.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Purim about why Palestinians and Jews must share their land.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Purified of Arabs or of Jews,
Until the phantoms fade the land will scream,
Remembering the slaughter of the dream,
In which dark deeds that only madmen choose
Made room for those no blessing could redeem.
This week’s poem of the week is a name poem for Abraham, the leader.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Abraham endures, just like a mountain
Beset by storms more fierce than those below.
Resplendent in the sun, his white hair gleaming,
As he speaks, we marvel at his meaning,
Having grasped through him what we well know.
As though each moment of his life were lenten,
More than we, he feels each painful blow.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for the Lunar (Chinese) New Year, the Year of the Sheep, Ram, or Goat, written from the point of view of the sheep.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Treat yourself each day to love and kindness.
Heaven is a place within the heart.
Each ritual of faith may well seem mindless,
Yet one is only whole when one is part.
Even though I may seem timid, shy,
A worrier for all who might feel pain,
Remember well the well-wrought reason why:
One gives with love what will one’s love sustain.
Faith is one’s connection to the whole,
The story that makes sense of the event.
How might the self seem separate from the soul
Except through love perceived as permanent?
So must we be filled with love that we
Have just a glimpse of what it means to be,
Embracing freely what we cannot know,
Each suffering what all must undergo,
Patient in the hands of mystery.
This week’s poem of the week is an anniversary poem about lasting love.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Happy forty-eighth anniversary!
A celebration of a lasting love!
Pleasures pass, but love remains unmoved,
Planted in a garden by the sea.
Years may be consumed by vanity
And crises one remembers little of.
No loveless passion will resilient prove,
Nor intimacy long sought long savored be.
In love alone one finds a joy that lasts,
Vested in a person, yes, but made
Eternal by the music that it sings,
Revealing depths beyond one’s western shore.
Sing, then, as the autumn sunlight casts
A touch of gold upon your green-clad glade,
Rejoicing in the happiness love brings,
Yearning, though the heart is full, for more.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for children about a friendship between a cat and a mouse.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
THE BALLAD OF PETER AND JAKE
A kitten named Pete
Just happened to meet
A baby mouse named Jake.
What friends they became!
For though not the same,
They both loved to play and eat cake!
They met on a day
When both wanted to play –
Well, every day was like that!
Jake was lonely and saw
Pete alone on the floor,
And decided to call to the cat.
“Up here!” squeaked Jake
From right next to a cake
That sat on the dining room table.
“See what I found
Just looking around
As I wandered in from the stable!”
Pete leaped right up,
Knocking over a cup,
Which fell with a crash to the floor.
So their friendship began
As together they ran
For the luckily half-open door.
Together they hid
Under the lid
Of a garbage can placed just outside.
“Isn't it fun,”
Jake squeaked, “When we run
Together someplace we can hide?”
A human came out,
Looked all about,
And then went back into the house.
Who would have thought
That the person he sought
Was a kitten and baby mouse?
Out Jake hopped,
And out Pete flopped,
Neither one smelling so good.
But Pete licked Jake
And tasted the cake,
And wanted some more, if he could.
“Great!” Jake squeaked,
Then ran over and peeked
Through a tiny hole in the wall.
“It's still on the table,
So I should be able
To get some since I am so small.”
Jake squeezed through the crack
And in moments came back
With a tiny crumb for Pete,
Who ate it and said
With a shake of his head,
“For me this is not much to eat.”
“No problem!” squeaked Jake.
“I can get you more cake!”
And he went back and forth for a while,
Bringing crumb after crumb
Until he was done,
And both burrowed into the pile.
When the pile was gone,
They heard, “What's going on?”
And the door hit the wall with a crash.
So Jake made a leap
Onto Pete with a shriek,
And Pete took off in a flash.
“Imagine that!
A mouse and a cat!”
The human exclaimed from the house.
“Who ever heard
Of a thing so absurd
As a cat making friends with a mouse?”
“Hooray!” squealed Jake.
“We ate all the cake!
Well, most of it, maybe not all.
We make a great team,
Like cake and ice cream,
Since you're big and I'm very small!”
The two friends went on
To the stable and barn
Where Jake's mom and dad had their nest.
“A cat!” they cried.
“Quick! Run and hide!”
“Oh, no!” Jake said. “He's our guest.”
“Our guest?” they exclaimed.
“He's my friend,” Jake explained
As the other mice scampered away.
“He won't hurt anyone.
He's just here for fun.
He's a friend with whom I can play.”
“A friend?” they exclaimed.
“He's a cat!” they complained.
“Get him out! Get him out of our house!
Who ever heard
Of a thing so absurd
As a cat making friends with a mouse!
“To him you're a treat,
Just something to eat,
Not a friend with whom you can play.”
“Please,” said Pete.
“Jake's my friend, not a treat,
Though I see now I must go away.”
As Pete turned to go,
Jake said, “Oh, no, no!
If he goes then so must I.”
“We can't have a cat
In our nest, and that's that!”
Said Jake's dad. “So I guess it's goodbye.”
Sadly they went
On their way, their heads bent,
But soon they were happy again.
They played by a lake,
Pete the kitten and Jake,
Stopping to talk now and then.
“We could,”said the mouse,
“Go back to your house,
And stay with your parents awhile.”
Said Pete, “I'm afraid
That the friendship we've made
Wouldn't make my parents smile.”
“Now why is that?”
Said the mouse to the cat.
“Why does everyone say
That we shouldn't be friends?”
“I guess it depends,”
Said Pete, “on how much you play.”
So they played and they played
Till the light turned to shade,
And the sun went down at last,
And then made a nest
And lay down to rest
On a bed of fur and grass.
In just a while
The moon with a smile
Shone down on the friends fast asleep,
And seemed to say
As it went on its way,
“Sleep well, for angels watch keep.”
As they slept, they dreamed
Of a world where it seemed
That friends could just simply play.
And no one would care,
And no one would stare,
If they did things their own special way.
In this world of their dreams
Beneath the moon's beams,
People would let people be.
And all would be friends
'Cause friendship depends
On being both loving and free.
At last the sun rose
And tickled their toes,
And poured golden light on their heads.
As they awoke,
A deep, loud voice spoke,
And this is what the voice said:
“Imagine that!
A mouse and a cat!
Asleep in their snug little house.
Who ever heard
Of a thing so absurd
As a cat making friends with a mouse?”
“We're not asleep!”
Jake cried out with a squeak,
“And what makes you say things like that?
What's it to you
If I do what I do,
And make best friends with a cat?”
“And why,” asked Pete,
“Do you have to repeat
The same words that others have said?
Have you no more
Than what's been said before
Bouncing around in your head?”
“And why,” squeaked Jake,
“By this beautiful lake,
Do you want to make others feel bad?
Would you like us to
Make such fun of you?
Is it nice to make someone else sad?”
“OK,” said the voice.
“I guess it's your choice,
And nothing to do with me.
Come, let's all play,
For just as you say,
People should let people be.”
So they played with that moose,
And later a goose,
A beaver, a turtle, a frog,
A baby raccoon,
A lark and a loon,
A chipmunk, a deer, and a dog.
How lovely to play
Through a beautiful day,
The mouse, the cat, and their friends!
For all can be free
If they let others be.
And this is how my story ends.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday about never reaching the promised land.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Moses never reached the promised land,
And I, too, died upon that distant mountain,
Resting on the laurels of my dream.
There is no end to struggle, no safe refuge
In which one can say, yes, I have arrived,
No longer feel the guilt of privilege,
Let go the fierce anxiety for justice,
Untie the knots of conscience in one’s soul.
The promised land’s a vision, not a place,
Held within the unrelenting heart.
Each generation must behold its beauty,
Reach for its uncompromising goodness,
Know that its long looked-for realization
Is in a time zone one will never see.
No matter. There’s a joy in going forward
Greater than the joy of going home.
This week’s poem of the week is a play on Dylan Thomas’ “Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night.”
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Go gently, gently into that good night.
Let the sunset crown the end of day.
Do not rage against the dying light.
Wise men at their end know dark is right,
Life and death one blessing, and so they
Go gently, gently into that good night.
Good men, looking back upon the bright
Dream that kept their inner brute at bay,
Do not rage against the dying light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
Then grieved it as they danced along its way,
Go gently, gently into that good night.
Grave men blessed by love with blinding sight,
Knowing too much beauty to be gay,
Do not rage against the dying light.
And you, dear reader, when you reach that height
And look down on the abyss with fear, I pray,
Go gently, gently into that good night.
Do not rage against the dying light.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for the New Year.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Here’s a blank sheet of paper. Another one.
An illusion, to be sure. An annual one.
Pretend each year that you can start anew.
Pretend each year that you’re no longer you.
Years come and go; that yearly pretense lasts,
Not discouraged by its many pasts,
Enduring because necessary for
Whoever seeks improvement yet once more.
Yearly resolutions tend to fade,
Each weakening soon after it is made,
As one retreats again from plans to dreams,
Real change being harder than it seems.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for the New Year.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Here’s a blank sheet of paper. Another one.
An illusion, to be sure. An annual one.
Pretend each year that you can start anew.
Pretend each year that you’re no longer you.
Years come and go; that yearly pretense lasts,
Not discouraged by its many pasts,
Enduring because necessary for
Whoever seeks improvement yet once more.
Yearly resolutions tend to fade,
Each weakening soon after it is made,
As one retreats again from plans to dreams,
Real change being harder than it seems.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Christmas about reason and faith.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Mary at midnight, the babe in her arms:
Ever the myth makes its way to the heart.
Reason gives way to desire and art,
Rendered quite mute by the quake of its qualms.
Yes, of course there are angels filling the sky!
Choirs of angels – how could there not be?
Heavenly hosts like a luminous sea
Rejoicing as God comes to Earth from on high!
Is this true? I mean really? As true as my thumb?
Sense has a way of making no sense.
The value of each soul needs a defense.
Maybe a sign can be more than a sum.
Angels sing daily as humans do ill.
So sing with them! Sing! Of peace and good will!
This week’s poem of the week is a poem about happiness for the holidays.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
How strange, the way life comes upon the moment!
Accident seems no more blind than choice.
Perhaps there is no clarity in comment.
Perhaps one needs to hear one's wordless voice.
Yet there one is, with life no less a gift.
Happiness heeds neither time nor place.
One sails on course; one does not mean to drift.
Life, however, sets all winds to grace.
In this time of yearly celebration,
Do, then, sing the melodies of joy,
Alive to beauty, ripe for revelation,
Yet perfectly in tune with each sensation,
Sense of life no living can destroy.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Hanukkah about life and death, light and darkness.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Blessed are those who can embrace the darkness,
Opening the way to loving light.
No DNA can fail to fear its death,
Nor asthmatic fail to fight for breath,
Instinctively in terror of the night.
Even so, we know life can't be endless.
Some would like their being to be endless,
Each day, each hour, each moment free of darkness,
The fear of it, the thought of coming night
Hidden 'neath the holiness of light,
Ever wishing for eternal breath,
Less alive since less alive to death.
In faith one finds an antidote to death,
Zealously believing in an endless
Afterlife, a being beyond breath
Breaking like a dawn upon the darkness,
Each soul reborn into eternal light,
Timeless in a garden shorn of night,
Happiness forever free of night.
Each moment is a moment because death
Lets one limn the ecstasy of light,
Lets one grasp one's joy because not endless,
Every moment bearing one towards darkness,
Now each more dear for one's short lease on breath.
Grace can be granted in a single breath
As one finds Eden on the edge of night,
Blessed by both the light and coming darkness,
Rejoicing in the gift of life and death.
Infinity is instant and yet endless.
Each consciousness is blind yet full of light.
Let each moment be eternal light
As all that is, is compassed in each breath.
Nor can one be but one is all and endless,
Despite the doleful destiny of night.
Knowing this, one need not turn from death,
Embracing it, for life is lit by darkness.
No God need turn that darkness into light,
Nor miracle decree the death of night,
As every breath sustains a grace that's endless.
This week’s poem of the week is a humorous Season’s Greetings poem about bearing the holidays.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Some would sing unmercifully of joy,
Even as the darkness fast descends,
A soporific meant to spirits buoy,
So blissful that it gives one's heart the bends.
Often holidays can be a pain --
Needy, noisy, full of aggravation.
Still, it might seem churlish to complain,
Given Uncle Scrooge's reputation.
Remember, then, to cherish every day,
Even holidays, with heartfelt cheer,
Embracing what you cannot shoo away,
Though with a little snort that says you're here.
In everyone a bit of humbug lurks,
Nor should you judge a cover by its quirks,
Granting fools a bit of charity,
So long as you come by it honestly.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Thanksgiving about the gifts of time 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/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Time is a gift, like food or love or death,
However much one wants to live forever.
All that is, is in a single breath.
Now is ample time for each endeavor.
Knowing one will die makes time more precious
Since even music needs a proper end,
Giving each note density and purpose
In a compass one can comprehend.
Vistas have horizons, even though
Infinity still lurks beyond the stars,
Nothing that a grateful soul can know,
Given that one’s gift such knowledge bars.
This week’s poem of the week is a nonsense poem for children.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Deep sea divers dove one day,
All decked out in green and gray.
Underneath the sea they saw
A million muskrats, maybe more.
“What kind of creatures could you be
Underneath the salty sea?”
The deep sea divers asked. “Don't you
Need air to breathe and burrows, too?”
“Oh, my! Oh, my!” the muskrats said.
“It's time for treats, then off to bed!”
And in a flash, like fin-tailed fish,
The muskrats turned in one bright swish,
And vanished like a whispered wish.
Deep down they went where whales trade
Their favorite shellfish in the shade,
While walruses wear woolen coats
And stingrays feed seahorses oats;
Where turtles dance with manatees,
And snoring snails try not to sneeze,
And seals in tux and tails sing
While serving scallions in the spring,
Too deep dark down to see a thing.
There the muskrats went to sleep,
Deep down below the deepest deep,
Too deep for deep sea divers to
Descend to, as deep divers do,
And far too deep for me and you.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Veterans Day about coming home from war.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Voices of the dead are all around me.
Everyone alive seems much less real.
The smoke and screams and bombs and blood surround me,
Enduring through the love I still can’t feel.
Reality is rarely in the present
As truth and falsehood are defined by pain.
Nor can I stand one moment that is pleasant.
Sanity to me just seems insane.
Death is more attractive than a wife,
And loneliness a far less lonely life.
Yet I must turn and somehow live again.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem about ghosts for Halloween.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Happy, Happy Halloween!
A funhouse till tomorrow!
Let the living squirm and scream!
Leave the dead to sorrow.
Only ghosts endure such pain,
Well beyond their age,
Each undone again, again,
Each condemned to rage.
Nor can they turn the page.
This week’s poem of the week is a psychological name poem about being an older sibling.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Cierra Juliann's an older sister,
Infant no more, well before her time.
Everyone adores her little brother,
Recently emerged not far behind.
Remember how one reads the book of life,
Alternating happiness with tears,
Journeying towards love as man or wife,
Unready else to bear the weight of years.
Let her read the lesson of her longing
In her jealousy and fierce affection,
And get to know the labor of belonging,
Needing such travail for her protection,
Not least to tell life's blessings from perfection.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Columbus Day.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Chasing the horizon
On a windy sea,
Land fast disappearing,
Underway and free!
Maybe there is something
Beyond that distant line,
Ultimately nothing
Senses can define.
Days may seem like moments,
And moments seem like years,
Yet the wind is wine!
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Year after year, you promise to atone.
Often, yes, you actually mean it.
Maybe you remember life’s on loan,
Knowing you’re expected to redeem it.
Into prayers you pour your willing heart,
Perhaps at times unsure of what you’ve done,
Perhaps at times unsure of where to start,
Uncovering what look like sins, though none
Requires much atonement on your part.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Ritual recalls the revelation.
Once the eternal enters time, it fades.
So might we sustain it through sensation,
Having melodies to serve as aids.
Hear, O Israel, the ancient words
As song, and savor both the sense and music!
Sing with the bright cadences of birds,
Holiness so sweet you can’t refuse it!
A synagogue is sanctified by song,
Nor ought familiar prayers be simply read.
All one’s heart is where it must belong,
Here singing with the living and the dead.
This week’s poem of the week is a birthday 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/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Fifty years, and you remain a child,
Infinitely valued, loved, and treasured.
Fierce winds may rip away at autumn leaves,
The kind of turn by which one's life is measured.
Yet Eden lingers, innocent and wild.
Years matter not, nor chance, nor choice, nor change.
Ever you must be a child still.
Ambition matters not, nor joy, nor grief,
Reason, passion, temper, fortune, will,
Since you know love that nothing can estrange.
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/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Life for most of us has not improved.
A few billion live in agony.
Beasts live better, and are far more free.
Of course, the rest of us are deeply moved.
Remember, then, though business may be brisk,
Decency demands we buy and sell
At prices that reward the labor well,
Yet yield returns that justify the risk.
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/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Let not lust undo your greater longing,
Lest you lose the love you most desire.
The point is not the partner you are wronging,
But who you are, and what grace you require.
It may be fear that keeps you from betraying
The trust that keeps your present life intact.
But fear alone should not keep you from straying;
The inner truth should flower in the act.
A moment is just one step in a dance
Performed through life upon an inner stage,
Choreographed in turn by will and chance,
Viewed more from the balcony with age.
Choose love, then, over lust, and dance with grace
Within a long and mutual embrace.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem about being blind.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
LIGHT OF THE SENSES
SINGER
Each note is like a moonbeam in the night,
More visible in darkness than in light.
You sing with closed eyes; I must sing with none.
Yet equally we would shut out the sun.
For music, like one's passion, seems to be
Purer when there's nothing one can see.
PIANIST
The melody is no more sound than touch.
My fingers sing; I press the keys with such
Grace as I can hear within my heart.
So beautiful to be consumed by art!
Though vision might be wonderful, I know
That I am who I am only so.
COMPOSER
I do not need to see or even hear,
But with a well-trained mental eye and ear,
I have an orchestra that plays within,
Ready every moment to begin.
The music issues forth like God's first light,
Filling with its radiance my night.
SCULPTOR
My hands are my sophisticated eyes,
Knowing better where the spirit lies
Within the shape you survey in the light.
Touch is far more intimate than sight.
I feel by feel the feeling that the form
Wishes to embody once it's born.
POET
I write about a world I cannot see
In images that are part fantasy,
Drawn from other senses that I use
As both my passionate eyes and choral muse.
None sees the world unfiltered through the mind.
Mine is no less lovely, though I'm blind.
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/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Success is measured out in humdrum days.
Enduring love evolves from ecstasy.
Vested in a choice, one settles in,
Eventually becoming what one is,
Needing what would else be mere desire.
Years pass, the elemental union stays,
Each turning bit by bit more otherly.
A change without becomes a change within,
Richer than what once was hers or his,
Self no self could by itself acquire.
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Eid al-Fitr, the feast that ends the holy month of Ramadan.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Eid is bittersweet. The holy month
Is over and the mundane months begun,
Devoted to the world of work and pleasure.
A sense of satisfaction comes at length,
Like winds that through the open windows run,
Freshening the soul, at last at leisure.
In celebration, then, and with new strength,
Turning to the many from the One,
Re-embrace the lives and loves you treasure.
I am a poet and webmaster of Poems for Free (http://www.poemsforfree.com). All of my poems may be used free for any personal or non-commercial purpose.
