Category: Poems about Poetry

THE ALBATROSS OF THE PLAINS

Beavers’ teeth never stop growing so they chew on wood to keep them at a manageable length. If they didn’t maintain them their teeth would eventually grow into their brains.

THE ALBATROSS OF THE PLAINS

I shot a beaver in my youth
who cursed me with this curse

My teeth
will be your poems now

remembering our gift unused
grows fatal to the brain

ONCE MORE ROUND THE MAYPOLE

ONCE MORE ROUND THE MAYPOLE

In leisure he revisits
things seen but never noticed in his youth
though they lay but a short arms length away

Cow with ingrown horn
then a saw-wire from repair
now metaphor for defense gone wrong

The deep snow forts of play
two Fahrenheit degrees away
from smother and a crying mother

Frost on a winter window
a forest of trees of finest lace
meant too cold to go outside today
now the music of the spheres in form

Best not to be a poet young
very little would get done

THE FARM, THE RANCH AND THE NEED FOR GOD

THE FARM, THE RANCH
AND THE NEED FOR GOD

Who pray to when the rains don’t come
who forget to thank when they do

Who curse when the John Deere breaks
and the cow jumps over the moon
(by the moon of course I mean
the fence to the alfalfa field)

Who in the long nights pondering
under the stars too cold to be suns
a word big enough for big

THANKSGIVING POEM: HOW TO

Wanting to bring you along on the journey

THANKSGIVING POEM: HOW TO

Don’t write right away, but soon.
Watch the leaves and the light fully
Connect – allow – relax – delight.
Too quick is a tourist in a selfie,
Taj Mahal untended over left shoulder.
Wait too long and the phone will ring

Write a few hundred poems before – good and bad,
so fear of the water doesn’t keep you on the shore
And how about a title throwing two shadows
(as Mary Oliver encourages)
an easy one here with movement and the season

Do not say leaves look toward the sun, and object,
but towards the rising of the sun, an event
one more evocative of motion

Note the angle of the sun,
so low on the horizon that is shines upwards
into the twisting, twirling, falling leaves,
as they lift at times in slightly gusting breeze

If pirouetting is what you see, bring the ballet in

And gratitude, of course, and on what day