Today's poet

[Alf]

Truth About Love


I apologize for not being Gandhi or Tom
the mailman who is always kind.

He makes his way every day no matter
the mood of the sky with our words

in a sack and Gandhi made the English
give India back without

taking a gun for a wife. My contribution
to the common good is playing

with the alphabet in a little room
while the world goes foraging

for food. I'm a better poet than man
and it's well known how little

my verbs are worth. I am my only subject,
being the god of my horizons.

What saves me is that just beyond my skin
the world of yours is where

I'd rather live. The AMA says you've added
seven point six years to my life.

In a phrase, love is a transfer of wealth.
This is why Adam Smith gave up

romantic verse. In trying to say what can't
be said I'll take the Dragnet

approach. Just the facts. I'd be dead
sooner without you, you'll die faster

for being a Mrs., raw deal can't be more
clearly defined. To make amends

I offer ten percent more kisses each year.
Or do I do more harm the closer

we become? If yes, leaving would be love
and a better man might. But my thrills

are selfishly domestic. I like sweeping words
into piles and whispering good night.


Bob Hicok

[freckle]

Truth About Love


I apologize for not being Gandhi or Tom
the mailman who is always kind.

He makes his way every day no matter
the mood of the sky with our words

in a sack and Gandhi made the English
give India back without

taking a gun for a wife. My contribution
to the common good is playing

with the alphabet in a little room
while the world goes foraging

for food. I'm a better poet than man
and it's well known how little

my verbs are worth. I am my only subject,
being the god of my horizons.

What saves me is that just beyond my skin
the world of yours is where

I'd rather live. The AMA says you've added
seven point six years to my life.

In a phrase, love is a transfer of wealth.
This is why Adam Smith gave up

romantic verse. In trying to say what can't
be said I'll take the Dragnet

approach. Just the facts. I'd be dead
sooner without you, you'll die faster

for being a Mrs., raw deal can't be more
clearly defined. To make amends

I offer ten percent more kisses each year.
Or do I do more harm the closer

we become? If yes, leaving would be love
and a better man might. But my thrills

are selfishly domestic. I like sweeping words
into piles and whispering good night.


Bob Hicok

Wow! what a great poem...been a while since I read something which had a visceral effect and this did so thank you alfster!

thanks for the concern i did indeed get it sorted, turns out it was an alarm which was faulty but glad i got it checked as not worth the risk to my little babes! your right tho i don't seem to have much luck vis a vis utilities !

ps... i do hope no fell poet whispers words into piles and whispers good night! :-/

[Hes]

I really love this poem Alf! You've posted some total gems recently. I really liked The Problem with Hurricanes too (with regards to the gales...I've mainly been worried about my apples getting blown off the trees, perhaps I should think a bit bigger!)

Truth About Love


I apologize for not being Gandhi or Tom
the mailman who is always kind.

He makes his way every day no matter
the mood of the sky with our words

in a sack and Gandhi made the English
give India back without

taking a gun for a wife. My contribution
to the common good is playing

with the alphabet in a little room
while the world goes foraging

for food. I'm a better poet than man
and it's well known how little

my verbs are worth. I am my only subject,
being the god of my horizons.

What saves me is that just beyond my skin
the world of yours is where

I'd rather live. The AMA says you've added
seven point six years to my life.

In a phrase, love is a transfer of wealth.
This is why Adam Smith gave up

romantic verse. In trying to say what can't
be said I'll take the Dragnet

approach. Just the facts. I'd be dead
sooner without you, you'll die faster

for being a Mrs., raw deal can't be more
clearly defined. To make amends

I offer ten percent more kisses each year.
Or do I do more harm the closer

we become? If yes, leaving would be love
and a better man might. But my thrills

are selfishly domestic. I like sweeping words
into piles and whispering good night.


Bob Hicok

[Hes]

Hi TT, I feel for you! I have been out for a couple months due to an ankle sprain and that was long enough to get me down. Still not right yet but I am running again. Hang in there, hope you are back on the fells soon.

13th March 2011
Running better than id ever been since 2007
Out on a run in the dark peak
When I turned my ankle and picked up a tweak
Hours out, rolled in days, into weeks and even to September
Such a low point I cant remember
But slowly and surely my ankle is healing
Even if im not sure what the increased calcification is concealing
Surgery beckons and Il be honest it is that I fear
As I know I will be out for at least another year
But worry not folks because what im trying to say
Is that eventually, the doctor will allow me back out to play

[Hes]

So glad that it was your alarm that was broken and not a real leak Freckle and that you and the girls are safe and sound! Fingers crossed that you have better luck with those utilities soon!!xx

Wow! what a great poem...been a while since I read something which had a visceral effect and this did so thank you alfster!

thanks for the concern i did indeed get it sorted, turns out it was an alarm which was faulty but glad i got it checked as not worth the risk to my little babes! your right tho i don't seem to have much luck vis a vis utilities !

ps... i do hope no fell poet whispers words into piles ad whispers good night! :-/

[MachGirl]

Alf just read ' the truth about love ' and I thought it was quite brilliant ! I've often thought how love can literally either increase or decrease a persons life expectancy , but never read a poem that sums it up as perfectly as the one you posted . I love the line " what saves me is just beyond my skin , the world of yours is where I'd rather live "

Hes thanks for your comment about the ' absolute love ' poem I posted x I really liked the ' love song ' poem you posted too x x

Freckle , glad you got sorted with utility problem , it's quite worrying when an alarms start going off in middle of night and you really don't know whether it's really something to be alarmed about , especially when you have little children !

[MachGirl]

Elusive Time


In love it may be dangerous
to reckon on time to count

on it time's here and then
it's gone I'm not thinking

of death or disaster but of
the slippage the unpredictable

disappearance of days on which
we were depending for happiness



James Laughlin

[MachGirl]

I read this poem and just loved the last line !


Superstring theory


The words of a song
half-forgotten
still echo in the back of my dream
your face, like a time-yellowed photograph
Antagonia
my nemesis
higher harmonics of a
superstring
symphony in my chest
your face still haunting
those eyes, those lips...
were the brane of a universe
and I thought I knew,
but still today I haven’t figured
what that touch of ours
gave birth
to



Dan Moldoveanu

[Alf]

I like Elaine Sexton's poems

Turnstile

I carry the prints of a hundred thousand
strangers in my hands, their palms
on the turnstile this morning like mine
touching the kiosk buttons, fingering
coins to pay for the Times. At Union Square Station,
the stale breath of others
inhabits the boxcar air. The scent of lilacs
shuttles with us from the garden to work
with our spring colds, our smokers' coughs,
the Daily News the others left behind
on their seats, vacant, invisible debris,
tubercular, airborne like grief, theirs
not like mine, not like anyone else's.

Elaine Sexton

[Nathaniel Lee]

Singularity.

Inside is where i hide,
I know you would like me,
If only i could be found,
In my black world.

You approach bring the sun,
Flaxen hair scent of spring,
Goddess eternal illumination,
Even light dies in my darkness.

Back and forth over millennia,
She tries to entice me,
Destined to die in my black heart,
Until all that is left is me.

Nathaniel Lee.