Here's a Blank Sheet of Paper

January 1, 2015

Dear Subscriber:

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.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Here's a Blank Sheet of Paper

January 1, 2015

Dear Subscriber:

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.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Mary at Midnight, the Babe in Her Arms

December 25, 2014

Dear Subscriber:

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!

© by Nicholas Gordon

How Strange, the Way Life Comes upon the Moment

December 18, 2014

Dear Subscriber:

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.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Blessed Are Those Who Can Embrace the Darkness

December 11, 2014

Dear Subscriber:

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.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Some Would Sing Unmercifully of Joy

December 4, 2014

Dear Subscriber:

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.

© by Nicholas Gordon

Time Is a Gift, like Food or Love or Death

November 27, 2014

Dear Subscriber:

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.

© by Nicholas Gordon