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  1. TopTop #1
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Ignorant before the heavens of my life


    Ignorant before the heavens of my life,
    I stand and gaze in wonder. Oh the vastness
    of the stars. Their rising and descent. How still.
    As if I didn't exist. Do I have any
    share in this? Have I somehow dispensed with
    their pure effect? Does my blood's ebb and flow
    change with their changes? Let me put aside
    every desire, every relationship
    except this one, so that my heart grows used to
    its farthest spaces. Better that it live
    fully aware, in the terror of its stars, than
    as if protected, soothed by what is near.

    - Rainer Maria Rilke

    (Translated by Stephen Mitchell )
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  2. TopTop #2
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    My Lament

    This poem cannot waste a single word.

    I am watching the world,
    my community
    go slowly insane.
    Due to my close proximity,
    the
    unraveling of my existence
    loses its tentative hold.
    Like an ache that walks alone,
    my heart is homeless.

    I am trying not to be afraid.

    I need no reminders,
    my people are dying.
    Every time we reinvent ourselves,
    someone else claims it.
    We use vanishing cream
    of
    avoidance and denial
    invisible to others
    and
    lost to ourselves.

    I am trying no to be afraid.

    Globalization is the new word
    for
    slavery, civilized bondage.
    For the powers that be
    their comfort
    has been
    bought with our suffering,
    it ties us to the familiar places,
    yoking us with the pleasures
    or our own indifference,
    a complacency
    of self-appointed oppressors.

    I am trying not to be afraid.

    I suppose
    what I really,
    truly
    want to do
    is
    love
    tear by tear.

    - Shahara Godfrey
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  3. Gratitude expressed by 5 members:

  4. TopTop #3
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    BY THE SEA IN LATE SPRING


    The smells of the sea
    and the yellow lupine mingle
    tart and sweet
    in the cool morning air.

    The sounds of the restless waves
    and the cliff swallows and the gulls
    the finches and the pelicans
    blend into a morning song.

    The sights of the cliffs—
    rocks upturned and tossed about
    a few thousand—maybe million?—
    years ago
    by an earthquake or two or three
    worn and worn and worn away
    for all these years
    by the buffeting sea
    and still proudly jagged and steep.

    The seals and the sea palm floating
    on the swells
    and high on one black rock
    a bright orange star fish lying
    exposed and vulnerable—
    like me.

    - Lilith Rogers
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  5. Gratitude expressed by:

  6. TopTop #4
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Earth

    Let the day grow on you upward
    through your feet,
    the vegetal knuckles,

    to your knees of stone,
    until by evening you are a black tree;
    feel, with evening,

    the swifts thicken your hair,
    the new moon rising out of your forehead,
    and the moonlit veins of silver

    running from your armpits
    like rivulets under white leaves.
    Sleep, as ants

    cross over your eyelids.
    You have never possessed anything
    as deeply as this.

    This is all you have owned
    from the first outcry
    through forever;

    you can never be dispossessed.

    - Derek Walcott
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  7. Gratitude expressed by:

  8. TopTop #5
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Magic

    We were talking about magic
    as we drove along a crowded
    Sunday highway

    when the whirl of wings
    made me turn
    and a flock of geese
    flew over our car
    so low I could see
    their feet tucked under them.

    For a moment the rustle
    of their presence over our heads
    obscured everything

    and as they disappeared
    you said,
    "I see what you mean."

    - Jenifer Nostrand
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  9. TopTop #6
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    I’m Listening

    I'm listening. But I don't know
    If what I hear is silence or God.
    I'm listening. But I can't tell
    If I hear the plane of emptiness echoing
    Or a keen consciousness
    That at the bounds of the universe
    Deciphers and watches me.
    I only know I walk like someone
    Beheld, Beloved and Known.
    And because of this
    I put into my every movement
    Solemnity and Risk.

    - Sophia DeMello-Breyner
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  10. TopTop #7
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Ask Me
    Some time when the river is ice ask me
    mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
    what I have done is my life. Others
    have come in their slow way into
    my thought, and some have tried to help
    or to hurt: ask me what difference
    their strongest love or hate has made.

    I will listen to what you say.
    You and I can turn and look
    at the silent river and wait. We know
    the current is there, hidden; and there
    are comings and goings from miles away
    that hold the stillness exactly before us.
    What the river says, that is what I say.

    - William Stafford
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  11. TopTop #8
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Awake At Night

    Late in the night I pay
    the unrest I owe
    to the life that has never lived
    and cannot live now.
    What the world could be
    is my good dream
    and my agony when, dreaming it
    I lie awake and turn
    and look into the dark.
    I think of a luxury
    in the sturdiness and grace
    of necessary things, not
    in frivolity. That would heal
    the earth, and heal men.
    But the end, too, is part
    of the pattern, the last
    labor of the heart:
    to learn to lie still,
    one with the earth
    again, and let the world go.

    - Wendell Berry
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  12. TopTop #9
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Poetry

    Its door opens near. It's a shrine
    by the road, it's a flower in the parking lot
    of The Pentagon, it says, "Look around,
    listen. Feel the air." It interrupts
    international telephone lines with a tune.
    When traffic lines jam, it gets out
    and dances on the bridge. If great people
    get distracted by fame they forget
    this essential kind of breathing
    and they die inside their gold shell.
    When caravans cross deserts
    It is the secret treasure hidden under the jewels.

    Sometimes commanders take us over, and they
    try to impose their whole universe,
    how to succeed by daily calculation:
    I can't eat that bread.

    - William Stafford
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  13. TopTop #10
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    He Said/ She Said

    He said,
    The road ahead is dark. Will you walk with me?
    She said,
    Whither thou goest, my love.

    He said,
    May the ancestral waters run down to cleanse our spirits.
    She said,
    The ancestral waters flow in my veins.

    He said,
    A tree stands its ground by sinking roots.
    She said,
    The wheel turns in time.

    He said,
    Protect what you love.
    She said,
    Love itself is the protection of life.

    He said,
    I need you to love.. and more.
    She said,
    Come back to bed, my love.

    - Larry Robinson
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  14. Gratitude expressed by 2 members:

  15. TopTop #11
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Whales Weep Not!
    They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains
    the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent.

    All the whales in the wider deeps, hot are they, as they urge
    on and on, and dive beneath the icebergs.
    The right whales, the sperm-whales, the hammer-heads, the killers
    there they blow, there they blow, hot wild white breath out of
    the sea!

    And they rock, and they rock, through the sensual ageless ages
    on the depths of the seven seas,
    and through the salt they reel with drunk delight
    and in the tropics tremble they with love
    and roll with massive, strong desire, like gods.
    Then the great bull lies up against his bride
    in the blue deep bed of the sea,
    as mountain pressing on mountain, in the zest of life:
    and out of the inward roaring of the inner red ocean of whale-blood
    the long tip reaches strong, intense, like the maelstrom-tip, and
    comes to rest
    in the clasp and the soft, wild clutch of a she-whale's
    fathomless body.

    And over the bridge of the whale's strong phallus, linking the
    wonder of whales
    the burning archangels under the sea keep passing, back and
    forth,
    keep passing, archangels of bliss
    from him to her, from her to him, great Cherubim
    that wait on whales in mid-ocean, suspended in the waves of the
    sea
    great heaven of whales in the waters, old hierarchies.

    And enormous mother whales lie dreaming suckling their whale-
    tender young
    and dreaming with strange whale eyes wide open in the waters of
    the beginning and the end.

    And bull-whales gather their women and whale-calves in a ring
    when danger threatens, on the surface of the ceaseless flood
    and range themselves like great fierce Seraphim facing the threat
    encircling their huddled monsters of love.
    And all this happens in the sea, in the salt
    where God is also love, but without words:
    and Aphrodite is the wife of whales
    most happy, happy she!

    and Venus among the fishes skips and is a she-dolphin
    she is the gay, delighted porpoise sporting with love and the sea
    she is the female tunny-fish, round and happy among the males
    and dense with happy blood, dark rainbow bliss in the sea.
    - D.H. Lawrence
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  16. TopTop #12
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    There Are Those Who Love To Get Dirty

    There are those who love to get dirty
    and fix things.
    They drink coffee at dawn,
    beer after work,

    And those who stay clean,
    just appreciate things,
    At breakfast they have milk
    and juice at night.

    There are those who do both,
    they drink tea.

    - Gary Snyder
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  17. Gratitude expressed by:

  18. TopTop #13
    RexCasteel
    Guest

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    I wonder if whales write poetry about us?

    I wonder if they admire and even envy all of the things that we get to do?

    Thanks, Larry. Wow!

    Quote Larry Robinson wrote: View Post
    Whales Weep Not!
    They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains
    the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent...
    - D.H. Lawrence
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  19. TopTop #14
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    The Breathing Place

    It must be built
    by following your instinct,
    as a seal finds its breathing hole in ice:
    by letting yourself go into
    moments that pull
    like a magnet to North.
    You listen quietly
    until you know
    the moment,
    its song,
    why it pulls a place in you
    and like the seal
    you may find an Eskimo spear
    poised to strike
    as you listen.

    Then,
    you visit your breathing place
    where some moments
    come, are lived quickly, and go;
    others visit for years
    and are still not over.

    You must visit daily
    so the path remains visible
    as the doubts of others
    try to entice you
    to be their breathing place
    try to make you forget
    the place
    you have struggled to find.

    - Robert Smyth
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  20. TopTop #15
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    End Of The World

    When I was young in school in Switzerland, about the time of the Boer War,
    We used to take it for known that the human race
    Would last the earth out, not dying till the planet died. I wrote a schoolboy poem
    About the last man walking in stoic dignity along the dead shore
    Of the last sea, alone, alone, alone, remembering all
    His racial past. But now I don't think so. They'll die faceless in flocks,
    And the earth flourish long after mankind is out.

    - Robinson Jeffers
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  21. TopTop #16
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Where the Sidewalk Ends

    There is a place where the sidewalk ends
    And before the street begins,
    And there the grass grows soft and white,
    And there the sun burns crimson bright,
    And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
    To cool in the peppermint wind.

    Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
    And the dark street winds and bends.
    Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
    We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
    And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
    To the place where the sidewalk ends.

    Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
    And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
    For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
    The place where the sidewalk ends.

    - Shel Silverstein
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  22. TopTop #17
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Youth

    Strange bird,

    His song remains secret.

    He worked too hard to read books.

    He never heard how Sherwood Anderson

    Got out of it, and fled to Chicago, furious to free himself

    From his hatred of factories.

    My father toiled fifty years

    At Hazel-Atlas Glass,

    Caught among girders that smash the kneecaps

    Of dumb honyaks.

    Did he shudder with hatred in the cold shadow of grease?

    Maybe. But my brother and I do know

    He came home as quiet as the evening.


    He will be getting dark, soon,

    And loom through new snow.

    I know his ghost will drift home

    To the Ohio River, and sit down, alone,

    Whittling a root.

    He will say nothing.

    The waters flow past, older, younger

    Than he is, or I am.

    - James Wright
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  23. TopTop #18
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Those Winter Sundays

    Sundays too my father got up early
    and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
    then with cracked hands that ached
    from labor in the weekday weather made
    banked fires blaze. No one thanked him.

    I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
    When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
    and slowly I would rise and dress,
    fearing the chronic angers of that house,

    Speaking indifferently to him,
    who had driven out the cold
    and polished my good shoes as well.
    What did I know, what did I know
    of love's austere and lonely offices?

    - Robert Hayden
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  24. TopTop #19
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    My Father
    The memory of my father is wrapped up in
    white paper, like sandwiches taken for a day at work.

    Just as a magician takes towers and rabbits
    out of his hat, he drew love from his small body,

    and the rivers of his hands
    overflowed with good deeds.
    - Yehuda Amichai
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  25. TopTop #20
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Loud Music

    My stepdaughter and I circle round and round.
    You see, I like the music loud, the speakers
    throbbing, jam-packing the room with sound whether
    Bach or rock and roll, the volume cranked up so
    each bass notes is like a hand smacking the gut.
    But my stepdaughter disagrees. She is four
    and likes the music decorous, pitched below
    her own voice-that tenuous projection of self.
    With music blasting, she feels she disappears,
    is lost within the blare, which in fact I like.
    But at four what she wants is self-location
    and uses her voice as a porpoise uses
    its sonar: to find herself in all this space.
    If she had a sort of box with a peephole
    and looked inside, what she'd like to see would be
    herself standing there in her red pants, jacket,
    yellow plastic lunch box: a proper subject
    for serious study. But me, if I raised
    the same box to my eye, I would wish to find
    the ocean on one of those days when wind
    and thick cloud make the water gray and restless
    as if some creature brooded underneath,
    a rocky coast with a road along the shore
    where someone like me was walking and has gone.
    Loud music does this, it wipes out the ego,
    leaving turbulent water and winding road,
    a landscape stripped of people and language-
    how clear the air becomes, how sharp the colors.

    - Stephen Dobyns
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  26. TopTop #21
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    A Praise

    His memories lived in the place
    like fingers locked in the rock ledges
    like roots. When he died
    and his influence entered the air
    I said, Let my mind be the earth
    of his thought, let his kindness
    go ahead of me. Though I do not escape
    the history barbed in my flesh,
    certain wise movements of his hands,
    the turns of his speech
    keep with me. His hope of peace
    keeps with me in harsh days,
    the shell of his breath dimming away
    three summers in the earth.

    - Wendell Berry
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  27. TopTop #22
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    The Bagel
    I stopped to pick up the bagel
    rolling away in the wind,
    annoyed with myself
    for having dropped it
    as if it were a portent.
    Faster and faster it rolled,
    with me running after it
    bent low, gritting my teeth,
    and I found myself doubled over
    and rolling down the street
    head over heels, one complete somersault
    after another like a bagel
    and strangely happy with myself.

    - David Ignatow
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  28. TopTop #23
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    To The Great Circle Of Nothing

    When the I AM THAT I AM made nothing
    and rested, which rest it certainly deserved,
    night now accompanied day, and man
    had his friend in the absence of the woman.

    Let there be shadow! Human thinking broke out.
    And the universal egg rose, empty,
    pale, chill and not yet heavy with matter,
    full of unweighable mist, in his hand.

    Take the numerical zero, the sphere with nothing in it:
    it has to be seen, if you have to see it, standing.
    Since the wild animal's back now is your shoulder,

    and since the miracle of not-being is finished,
    start then, poet, a song at the edge of it all
    to death, to silence, and to what does not return.

    - Antonio Machado
    (translated by Robert Bly)
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  29. TopTop #24
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm
    in Pine Island, Minnesota

    Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
    Asleep on the black trunk,
    Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
    Down the ravine behind the empty house,
    The cowbells follow one another
    Into the distances of the afternoon.
    To my right,
    In a field of sunlight between two pines,
    The droppings of last year’s horses
    Blaze up into golden stones.
    I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
    A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
    I have wasted my life.

    - James Wright
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  30. TopTop #25
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Encounter

    We were riding through the frozen fields in a wagon at dawn.
    A red wing rose in the darkness.

    And suddenly a hare ran across the road.
    One of us pointed to it with his hand.

    That was long ago. Today neither of them is alive.
    Not the hare, nor the man who made the gesture.

    O my love, where are they, where are they going?
    The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles.
    I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder.

    - Czeslaw Milosz
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  31. TopTop #26
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Eating Blackberry Jam

    When I hear that God is the same as existence,
    I fall silent, but I keep turning my eyes
    Up to the little creatures of nonexistence.

    Some believe that the sea perch became identical
    To keep the shark from zeroing in. But staying alive
    Doesn't mean they are free from nonexistence.

    The cries of the infant barn-swallows rising from
    The mud-nests fastened ingeniously to the rafters
    Taught me to love the skinny birds of nonexistence.

    Taoists with their thin beards fishing all day
    With a straight hook tell us they have learned
    Not to expect a whole lot from nonexistence.

    Blackberries have so many faces that their jam
    Is a kind of thickening of nothing; each of us
    Loves to eat the thick syrup of nonexistence.

    When each stanza closes with the same word,
    I am glad. A friend says, "If you're proud of that,
    You must be one of the secretaries of nonexistence!"

    - Robert Bly
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  32. TopTop #27
    RexCasteel
    Guest

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Because of "Iron John," I will give Robert Bly the benefit of the doubt and keep thinking about his poem, with hope of truly understanding. I do understand his glee at the symmetry, so that is something...

    Thanks, Larry.

    Quote Larry Robinson wrote: View Post
    Eating Blackberry Jam

    When I hear that God is the same as existence...
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  33. TopTop #28
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    When Someone Deeply Listens



    When someone deeply listens to you

    it is like holding out a dented cup

    you've had since childhood

    and watching it fill up with

    cold, fresh water.

    When it balances on top of the brim,

    you are understood.

    When it overflows and touches your skin,

    you are loved.



    When someone deeply listens to you,

    the room where you stay

    starts a new life

    and the place where you wrote

    your first poem

    begins to glow in your mind's eye.

    It is as if gold has been discovered!



    When someone deeply listens to you,

    your bare feet are on the earth

    and a beloved land that seemed distant

    is now at home within you.



    - John Fox
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  34. TopTop #29
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Sea Washes Sand Scours Sea

    (for my daughter's wedding)

    No hay camino. El camino se hace al andar.
    —Antonio Machado


    Walking the shore that day, each reaches down
    for stones from time to time, the other talking,
    her eye finding stones like purple berries,
    his hand holding a cloud-light shell to her.

    Seas they cannot yet see are ancient seas;
    trees they will later pass are not yet trees.
    Shore that he looks back to turns to haze,
    and sand that she imagines turns to shore.

    He says, "Sea washes sand scours sea."
    "And sand drinks sea drowns sand," says she.
    Voices of gulls call through them on the wind;
    the dog circles out beyond their voices.

    "All that proceeds recedes," he says at last.
    "That you and I are here," she says, "is all."
    The man watches the woman watches the man.
    The woman loves the man loves the woman.

    The day does not diminish other days;
    they gain a newer language from the day.
    Though wave by step their footprints wash away,
    The day does not diminish other days.

    - Tom Vander Ven
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  35. TopTop #30
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    The Barber

    The barber is someone who creates

    by taking away, like a writer
    who owns only an eraser.
    He is like a construction company

    that begins with a large office building
    and ends up with a small wooden house.
    On the wall is his license,
    showing that he’s been to school

    and learned of all the varieties
    of loss. For this reason
    a haircut can make me nervous;
    sometimes I close my eyes

    and hear only the snip
    of the scissors, their two gleaming halves
    talking of the balance that is here, the partnership
    between this man in a blue smock

    and the hairs faithful as rain,
    that even before birth and after death
    flow tirelessly out of the head
    toward the comb and the blade

    - Jay Leeming
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