Another one I liked:

OK, I know our blog is supposed to be for original works, but I really liked the poem I shared tonight by Howard Nemerov.
It is called Because You Asked about the Line Between Prose and Poetry, and can be found here.
Also reproduced below, assuming that's OK (I'll take it off if it's not)

Because You Asked about the Line Between Prose and Poetry

Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle
That while you watched turned to pieces of snow
Riding a gradient invisible
From silver aslant to random, white, and slow.

There came a moment that you couldn’t tell.
And then they clearly flew instead of fell.

For Today

Thank you for friends,
  for pretendings and endings,
and for hope

Thank you for tasks,
  for relaxings and askings,
and for mistakes.

Thank you for songs,
  for longings and dawning,
and for sighs.

Thank you for meals,
  for kneelings and feelings,
and for tears.

Thank you for today
and for hope.

My First Contribution

Josh just told me to post this so here it is...P.S. this is my version of "Imagine" by John Lennon:

Suggested Title: Reimagine

Imagine there’s no heaven
It’s easy if you lie
No hell below us
As long as we don’t die
Imagine all the people
Living without hope

Imagine there’s no countries
No band of brotherhood
Nothing to live or die for
Nothing that’s really good
Imagine all the people
Living without choice

You may say that ‘God’ is trouble
And you’re not the only one
But we’re the ones in trouble
Till we learn to live as one

Imagine there’s no virtue
And no integrity
No cause for us to fight for
Not even charity
Imagine all the people
Sharing a joyless world

You may say that ‘God’ is trouble
And you’re not the only one
But we’re the ones in trouble
Till we learn to live as one

Minutes 5/20/09

- The night began with an excursion to obtain the delicious, thirst-quenching, crave-satisfying, fantabulous juice-boxes.
- 2/3 of the poems written this evening praised the just-mentioned beverages.
- Taylor wrote an excellent poem which made little sense but sounded very poetic, and was, poetically, unfinished.
- Josh wrote a poem on his Macey's receipt, mentioning the name of a woman who will never know she was famous for about 2 minutes.
- Diane's poem took her too long to write for how it turned out. It was not proclaimed blog-worthy, even by her own, very forgiving standards. It remained unnamed, just as a child that a mother regrets bearing the moment it makes it's first cry.
- Josh shared some Spanish poetry, which Diane struggled to comprehend while Taylor enjoyed the company of his lappy.
- Diane missed Sarah Hall.
- Josh tried to convince Diane that they (Josh and Diane) once dated. No doubt that is what inspired the reading of Spanish poetry: in hopes to woo her.
- The poetry club enjoyed another fun and eventful evening, and Diane wondered why more people don't come. :)

Ball

If I had ears I first would hear
The wind's high pitch from moving fast
Then painless crash as I met house
crescendo-ed laughs with each return

If I had eyes I'd keep them shut
For being thrust into the air
would be enough to lose one's lunch
With blurs of color streaming past

My nose would smell the young boy's hands
His sweat from repetitious play
And then, too soon, the paneled wall
the ling'ring cedar still remains

If I had nerves I would feel pain
As bruises blue became rebruised
And wounds were not allowed to heal
Forever suffering-- endless game

Thoughts of Summer

Breath
When wind is winding where it will,
Through grass and tree, o'er stone and hill,
And lifts the wings of beetles high
Above the reach of earth-bound eye,
I reach and welcome life's rebirth
And feel I'm breathing with the earth.


Starless Night
Stairs of flashing lightning climbing up into the clouds--
clouds swimming about in their own thunder,
whispering to each other
with thrums of summer rain.

False Hopes

You shouldn't have to fly
4,000 miles to visit
an archives with
valuable records
treasured tomes
keys to unlocking
centuries of secrets

Only to hear
"Come back in a week."

Don't they know
my time is tiptoeing
out into the oblivion
evasively eluding
my frantic efforts
to twist its arm
and maneuver it into
a monotonously measured march?

You'd think
they could figure that out
if they run a repository

Couldn't they?

Suspicious

Swine flu? Or Swine fluke
Thought up by some Duke
Feeling bored and having the urge--I am sure--
to instill fear in the hearts of all in the world
and keep Miss Dianey here, which is far
from that fiesta- siesta-filled splendid lugar.
It's far too ironic to be left to fate
that the trip would be canceled with just days to wait.
"That Spanish you learned? Those needles you felt...
We were really just kidding. Oh man, you got dealt!"
I'll let them all laugh and enjoy their cruel jest.
I'll pretend to be bitterly angry at best,
But deep down inside, I'm alright, feelin' fine,
For this disappointment created this rhyme.


fiesta= party
siesta= nap
lugar= place