For Sam (ST Coleridge)

Damn Sam!
No man was ever yet a great poet,
without being at the same time a profound philosopher.
For poetry is the blossom and the fragrance
of all human knowledge,
human thoughts, human passions, emotions, language.
—Samuel Taylor Coleridge
 
Today I fathom only the shallows
slippery eels, here no profound fishes of wisdom
philosophies only of compost
and the odd croaker warning of frost [...]

Alone too long

Alone N Lonely
self-consoled
in the night
wine & moonlight
alone
awake
lion-fierce,
fist of hunger
clenches my guts

David M Pitchford
28 April 2008

Time to Grow

Time to Grow Up
Well, I guess it’s time
to get up off my proverbial haunches
roll up my sleeves
and decide who I am
 
Can’t wait
forever
for someone else
to come along
and remind me
who I was
before
or before that
or even yesterday
 
Now
time
to buck up
step out
step up
and make
something
of my life . . .
 

David M Pitchford
18 April 2008

Poem on “After the Bath”

She Bathes in Sorrow’s Beauty
Tall and lithe, she is no model matron
for Ruben. Slim, yet healthy, she disrobes
here to swim before bathing. The sun strobes
between clouds passing; Neptune, her patron
lord, embraces her in saline love. Run
down the beach as she does, knowing, she probes
waves with longing eyes, seeking message globes
she knows no longer surf to [...]

Lonely Man there on the Corner

 
One Stray Dog for Lunch
One grocery cart, stole from some damned corporate conglom’rat . . . two shirts. one pair Dockers—used. comb. 22 newspapers. 2 mags, salvaged from 7/11. 29 business cards: 2 lawyers; 6 cops; a wine salesman, real estate agent, insurance broker . . . and one clergyman. . . . Who the hell’d [...]

Narcissus to Echo (on a Waterhouse painting)

 
I Hear Your Beauty in My Reflection
Oh Echo, Echo, my beloved Echo,
what fell god damned me to this contemplation,
what terrible fate, my fascination
with that wonderful-evil image, wet woe
over which my head hangs. Oh sweet, sweet Echo,
I hear your song, your forlorn cry—obsession
dear and heinous as my own. What illusion,
this slipping life, rooted in glamour’s woe.
Nevertheless, [...]

Patriarch Patina

Oh Father that I am Not
Oh yes. I stand here fists on hips, adamant
and demanding. But within, I am the turmoil
inside Vesuvius. Friction among want and will,
wish and compassion, judgement and forgiveness
broil within my gut to dam my visceral reason
and beg pity for one move false and foolish . . .
Cannot love overshadow this fell [...]

Existential Dip in the Deep End

 
What is this Clear Ocean We Swim?
How long have we paddled our way through
to find but more miles of open blue, sunlight
glinting in myriad splinters that needle our eyes?
(Against these lasers, no dark shades would boon!)
When was our last serenade to that lovely moon?
Long enough she’s forgotten? Heaven seems deaf to cries
lost in eternity’s song [...]

Carravagio and Ekphrasis

Don’t Touch Me
So, here’s this poor woman. Been mourning three
days and a couple nights. Misery, loss,
hope nailed, hilltop and public, to a cross—
this woman needs a hug to set her free
to grieve; what is it you first said? “Get thee
hence!” May as well have been. Noli me—How
to reconcile that to a Law of Love?
But as you [...]

Lesson from the Lark (Poem)

 
Waiting for Something to Sing About
See that lark? What do you think?
He’s not singing. For what does he wait?
A perfect note that might occur to him,
or maybe for the mailman? A win
from some lottery? Luck, love, or response
on his latest resumé? Is he unemployed?
Looks well-dressed to me. Ready for
whatever larks lark on. Fun or food,
sex [...]