MAIS OU SONT LES NEIGES D'ANTON
This is Christina's world.
There is the White Bird falling from the sky,
Sweeping earthward through stars and bits of clouds
That stain the heaven's velvet blackness! High
Above the circles, thrice, then chooses from the crowds
Of would-be lovers, one whose heart imparts
A love that will accept the diadem
Of twelve stars. So with wings beating, like hearts
That waited years for love to come to them,
The Dove descends, and earth opens her arms,
Receiving love and light and the White Dove.
Earth kneels before the tree on which the charms
of childhood melt in memories of love,
When Whiteness, falling on the purist white,
Announced the coming of the Christmas night.
This is Christina's world of dreams,
A house hanging on a wind-blown hill
Over fields of yellow wheat;
A two-track mud road
Leading to the village
Where lonely people come
To be Alone,
Drifting on moonlight,
Dim distant Stardust
Twinkling in darkness
Salting a background of black.
Then light breaks on reality,
Waves on ocean coasts,
For an instant,
But gone again,
On smooth sand,
Then slide back
This is Christina.
Wheat waves no more!
Only the winds of winter
Blow across the fields
Where she lived.
What streams flow beneath the sea?
What power repairs the broken waves
And mends memories.
She found a warmth that broke
The crust of dust.
This is Christina's world.
Many poetic thoughts are left unwrit
Once you laughed-
My ears strain to catch the echoing ring
Once your cried-
My fingers stretch to wipe your tear stained cheek.
Once you went away-
My salty fingers try in vain to close
my echoing ears.
Now you have returned-
Doubts reecho in empty ears, as tear-most
fingers touch your wounds of love<./h3>
THERE WAS LOVE
There was love and light and laughter
in the castle of the king
The night the shepherds crossed the hills
to hear the angels sing.
And as the years rolled by for centuries
the name of Christ was sung.
On cold and winter nights,
while chapel bells were rung
There was light in every window
there was love in every eye
There was laughter in the schoolroom
with Christmas cribs near-by.
There was love and light and laughter then
behind each schoolhouse door.
But the name of Christ can not be sung
by children anymore.
Instead we hear some sleigh bells ring,
or see a few green trees,
An imitation Santa Claus
with children on his kness,
Expensive gifts, and mistletoe
and whiskey running free,
and empty love, and broken harts,
and Christless revelry.
I walked the grey mist of morning
(Lord, give me light that I might see)
And felt the moist grass crush beneath me.
I wished for the wind, a breath-breeze,
I longed for a whisper of wind,
A wood-wind rustle of leaves
Or a wind-ripple on the waters.
Then the breeze came!
The mist vanished and the sun
Melted the gray ghost of dawn;
Weight lifted and wheat waved again;
Leaves brushed aside the dew,
And green grass burned soft
And fresh beneath me where I rested,
Dreaming of the wind and gray mist.
I've just been told two couplets must be done
and handed in by nine today. (That's one)
I'll have to hurry. What would Father do
If this were not turned in on time, (There's two)
ON WRITING POETRY
It really isn't hard to write a poem,
While sipping beer and blowing off the foam.
Begin by writing any simple line,
And if, by luck, it seems you're doing fine,
Then start the next and try to find a rhyme,
And let iambics march in proper time.
By poets who could not make the meter fit.
My eyes have dimmed so I can hardly see
The green of spring, the gold of autumn leaves
The white of softly falling winter snow,
Or summer waters lapping on the shore.
And sounds are far away now, like broken echoes,
Like sea waves washing wishes on the sand
Or sparkling whispers on cliff-bound coast.
And yet I know the sun has comfort, warmth,
And silver stars are winking at the moon,
And wood-brooks bubble for the ears of those
Who come to listen and be silent there,
To hear the April tree buds bursting spring,
The breeze, the singing songbirds, - everything!
I have grown old this winter.
The snow has melted
But spring is late in coming.
It is that empty time of year
When there is neither whiteness nor roses.
I wait for time to pass
And etrnity to begin.
But here is eternity waiting for time to end.
All is present.
There is no passage of time.
Nothing to wait for - only
This is the day that the Lord has made
Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Long ago I loved the sea
When I was free to roam
And be alone with love.
This sea of mine and I would keep it, mine
And mine alone, and I would fight the one
Who tried to take it from me. "Blow you winds,
And crack your cheeks," you can not take it now.
Come rope, come rack, come death as black as hell
...........My love at least is mine, - and mine alone.
Take it! Take it away! It isn't good
For me to want is so! I long to give
And not to hoard this sea in which I drowned.
Help me? Help me to share my restless sea,
For sharing is the better part of love
And loving is the better part of man.
THE MIRACLE THAT NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE
The miracle that never happened before -
Has happened! Not once, but over and over.
It happend before, too, I suppose,
But eyes and ears did not percieve
The miracle is people - like you -
The giving, not once, but over and over.
Yet more, allowing us to give
For demands of love help us to grow.
And so a bud blossoms and grows,
Till snowflakes fall upon the rose.
The memory of the caring goes
Beyond the redness of the fading rose.
THE LEAVES AND I
Old leaves came running on a wind-rush down
Between the hemlock, oak, and maple trees,
And nestled in the bottom of the dell
Along the silver threaded woodland stream.
The winds were silent whispers overhead.
The stream pool only rippled from the flow
Of moving water slipping in from nowhere.
Fall's last brown leaf flopped lazy in the pool
I nestled with the leaves within the hollow
And listened to the whisper of the wind
Above me, and watched the rippled cloudlets move
Across the still blue pool - and drifted.
THE MEASURE OF LOVE
The years we lived together, the memories we have?
Events have shaped our lives, bonded us.
At first we were two,
Trying in separate ways to help our fellow man
Then as a couple
We shared our goals
In public careers, in our private lives.
Finally as one
We fled forward
Meeting new challenges as one.
As time moves on
You become more to me, for me
And I to you, for you,
Many poetic thoughts are left unwrit