January 22, 2009 #516
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for the Lunar, or Chinese, New Year (Year of the Ox).
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 point is just that I don't see the point:
However much one wants to be turned on,
Ecstasy can put things out of joint;
Yearning is for what will soon be gone.
Each can choose content or discontent;
All are happy, if they would be so.
Revelation isn't Heaven sent;
Out of what you are comes what you know.
Forget, then, the pursuit of the sublime.
There is no thing that's needed – all is here.
Happiness will settle in, in time,
Enduring, though the weather may turn drear.
One must plod to plow, and plow to plant.
X marks the heart, where lies all one could want.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Poem of the Week
January 15, 2009 #515
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Martin Luther King'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 some had thought I hoped too much
And dreamed a dream that never would come true,
Reasoning from what they saw and such
Trends as might confirm their points of view.
In dreams, however, one creates what is --
Not from what one sees but what one wills:
Like light, from the Lord's dream sprung, now All, as His
Undying Word the void unending fills.
Then look! Look! What miracles occur!
Here we have a black man judged upon --
Exactly as I dreamed – his character,
Regardless of his skin! And he has won!
Know, then, that the dream for which I fought
In time became the ground for what I sought.
New realities require dreams
Given to us not as ends but means.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Martin Luther King'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 some had thought I hoped too much
And dreamed a dream that never would come true,
Reasoning from what they saw and such
Trends as might confirm their points of view.
In dreams, however, one creates what is --
Not from what one sees but what one wills:
Like light, from the Lord's dream sprung, now All, as His
Undying Word the void unending fills.
Then look! Look! What miracles occur!
Here we have a black man judged upon --
Exactly as I dreamed – his character,
Regardless of his skin! And he has won!
Know, then, that the dream for which I fought
In time became the ground for what I sought.
New realities require dreams
Given to us not as ends but means.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Poem of the Week
December 31, 2008 #514
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a New Year's 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
Note: I will be away from Jan.1 – Jan. 11. The next poem of the week will be emailed on Thursday, Jan. 15.
Hope is not a harbinger of peace
As countless holocausts have made quite clear.
Perhaps the unsolved problem is that fear
Prevents the heart from seeking its release.
Years pass; we come no closer to the good,
Nor do we better understand why we
Each year have hope to live in harmony
While watering our fields with tears and blood.
Yet hope remains, and love, that hope revives.
Each knows well that hatred is insane,
And hates and fears and loves and hates again,
Resolving ever to keep hope alive.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a New Year's 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
Note: I will be away from Jan.1 – Jan. 11. The next poem of the week will be emailed on Thursday, Jan. 15.
Hope is not a harbinger of peace
As countless holocausts have made quite clear.
Perhaps the unsolved problem is that fear
Prevents the heart from seeking its release.
Years pass; we come no closer to the good,
Nor do we better understand why we
Each year have hope to live in harmony
While watering our fields with tears and blood.
Yet hope remains, and love, that hope revives.
Each knows well that hatred is insane,
And hates and fears and loves and hates again,
Resolving ever to keep hope alive.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Poem of the Week
December 25, 2008 #513
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
Merry Christmas to my love!
Enjoy the holiday.
Revel where the angels move,
Rejoice in what they say.
Years burn life down to a stub;
Christmas comes and goes.
Happiness lies at the nub,
Refuse of one’s woes.
Inside the husk there is the seed,
Shivering with glory.
The midnight cold, the dire need,
Mere setting for the story.
All the labor, loss, and pain
Sings of beauty born again.
© by Nicholas Gordon
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
Merry Christmas to my love!
Enjoy the holiday.
Revel where the angels move,
Rejoice in what they say.
Years burn life down to a stub;
Christmas comes and goes.
Happiness lies at the nub,
Refuse of one’s woes.
Inside the husk there is the seed,
Shivering with glory.
The midnight cold, the dire need,
Mere setting for the story.
All the labor, loss, and pain
Sings of beauty born again.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Poem of the Week
December 18, 2008 #512
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a Hanukkah 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
Cheerful lights dance within your window,
Happy to dispel a bit of darkness.
As you display your faith, remember when
No light was light enough to light the wind.
Underneath our joy there must be sorrow
Kindled by a willing act of witness,
A turn to share in love again, again,
Horrors that we would not leave behind.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a Hanukkah 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
Cheerful lights dance within your window,
Happy to dispel a bit of darkness.
As you display your faith, remember when
No light was light enough to light the wind.
Underneath our joy there must be sorrow
Kindled by a willing act of witness,
A turn to share in love again, again,
Horrors that we would not leave behind.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Poem of the Week
December 11, 2008 #511
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a holiday 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
Holidays are memories in waiting,
Amply fitted out to linger long.
Perhaps it is the food, the gifts, the song;
Perhaps the love that keeps the light from fading.
Years pass, traditions blend, people change;
Holidays endure, each generation
Offering its own fond re-creation
Lest the next find such sweet labors strange.
In memory the secret’s repetition:
Delight anticipated is delight
Approaching a predictable condition,
Yearly replicating a rendition
So that on holidays each note sounds right.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a holiday 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
Holidays are memories in waiting,
Amply fitted out to linger long.
Perhaps it is the food, the gifts, the song;
Perhaps the love that keeps the light from fading.
Years pass, traditions blend, people change;
Holidays endure, each generation
Offering its own fond re-creation
Lest the next find such sweet labors strange.
In memory the secret’s repetition:
Delight anticipated is delight
Approaching a predictable condition,
Yearly replicating a rendition
So that on holidays each note sounds right.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Poem of the Week
December 4, 2008 #510
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is an Eid-al-Adha 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
Even sacrifice may not be pure,
Intended for the eye and not the heart.
Do, then, out of love make sacrifice
As Abraham once offered up his son.
Love of Allah is what will endure
As fire consumes each lacerated part,
Devouring all but love, that will suffice
However long the sacrifice goes on,
As years and lives through time's cold fingers run.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is an Eid-al-Adha 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
Even sacrifice may not be pure,
Intended for the eye and not the heart.
Do, then, out of love make sacrifice
As Abraham once offered up his son.
Love of Allah is what will endure
As fire consumes each lacerated part,
Devouring all but love, that will suffice
However long the sacrifice goes on,
As years and lives through time's cold fingers run.
© by Nicholas Gordon
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