Category: Poems and Songs (mine and more….)

As a teenager, one of my “second mothers”, a librarian for whom I babysat, introduced me to the poetry of John V.A. Weaver. His book In American, published in 1939, contains the following poems which I came to love.

“Emotion Bourgeoise”

You thought it was the Spring, the river crinkled
Like creamy ribbon in the moon’s incandescence.
The stage was set: here was the very essence
Of middle-class romance: some far bell tinkled.

And down a warm wind came a sudden flood
Of lilac! Then you shuddered at my lips
Brushed on your cheek; your hair, your fingertips…
And, “Don’t!” you said, “I’m just not in the mood!

You wrenched away, laughed a self-conscious titter,
Spoke some banal something about the Spring,
Entered the doorway with a little fling,
Leaving me somewhat flustered, somewhat bitter.

Twenty! And May! (And several years ago, —
Hell! … That the smell of lilacs should hurt so!…

“Dilemma”

Gee, she's sweet!  So sort eyes wide open
  And shiny, like the streetlights do at night
When rain is on the sidewalk.  They's a somethin'
  About the way her whole face has that light

Whenever she looks at me.  It always says,
  "I believe in you!  Oh, I believe in you!"
That face like a little flower, starin' at me--
  It scares me!  What should I do?  What can I do?

I tell her not to go and dream about me,
  I ain't no fine guy, and I tell her so;
She keeps on thinkin' I'm just kiddin' her  
  And answers back, "You can't fool me!  I know!"

And just to think; that lovely dream about me
  Has got to smash all up some awful day
When she finds out how I am really ….
  It'll hurt her so … I ought tp get away

Where she can't never see me any more
  Before that dream and all that sweetness dies....
But can I do it?  Can I do without her?  
  Can I stand not seein' that lovin' in her eyes?

 

  

[song by Eric Anderson]

Take me to the night I’m tipping
Topsy turvy turning upside down.
Hold me close and whisper what you will
For there is no-one else around.
Oh, you can sing-song me sweet smiles
Regardless of the city’s careless frown.
Come watch the no colors fade, blazing
Into petaled sprays of violets of dawn.

In blindful wonderments enchantments
You can lift my wings softly to flight.
Your eyes are like swift fingers
Reaching out into the pockets of my night.
Oh, whirling twirling puppy-warm
Before the flashing cloaks of darkness gone.
Come see the no colors fade, blazing
Into petaled sprays of violets of dawn.

Some Prince Charming I’d be on two white steeds
To bring you dappled, diamond crowns
And climb your tower, Sleeping Beauty,
‘Fore you even know I’ve left the ground.
Oh, you can wear a Cinderella, Snow White,
Alice Wonderlanded gown.
Come see the no colors face, blazing
Into petaled sprays of violets of dawn.

But if I seem to wander off in dream-like looks
Please let me settle slowly.
It’s only me just starin’ out at you,
A seeming stranger speaking holy.
No, I don’t mean to wake you up,
It’s only loneliness just coming on.
So let the no colors fade, blazing
Into petaled sprays of violets of dawn.

Like shadows bursting into mist
Behind the echoes of this nonsense song
It’s just the chasing, whispering trails
Of secret steps, oh see them laughing on.
There’s magic in the sleepiness
Of waking to a childish sounding yawn.
Come see the no colors fade, blazing
Into petaled sprays of violets of dawn.

Plunk, plunk!
Icicles melt,
Singing the melancholy banjo notes of winter’s broken heart.
Plunk, plunk!
Icicles melt,
Winter’s tears
As the breeze whispers a gentle goodbye.
Our selfish arms embrace fickle spring,
But winter loves us more.

green life pops into being
one bloom at a time
the small bang theory of creation

[circa 1983]

[1963]

Winter on a whatnot shelf, 
Trees of blown glass     
Placed upon mirrored streets, 
Aftermath of an ice storm, -- 
Fact frozen into fantasy.

Waaaaaayyyy back in my high school days, I was encouraged to enter poetry contests through the state poetry organization. Unfortunately, I can no longer recall which was which, but one of my poems won an Honorable Mention one year, and another poem won, I believe, third place, the following year. So proud!! And lucky, too, I believed. I had a third poem that I had submitted twice (once each year as a second poem) that never won anything in and of itself, but to which I attributed the success of the two that did. (Bear in mind this was the reasoning of a high schooler’s brain.)

Here are the poems:

from the first year —

SERAPH MOTHER

Hush, Baby don’t be afraid.
You shall see her face and silhouette
A hundred times more in your dreams,
Though you shan’t remember them as hers.
Your tiny hand will reach for her familiar warmth,
Only to grasp my calloused fingers.
Hush, Cherub, I’ll tuck you in at night
And tell you stories.
You’ll learn.
I know the emptiness you feel.
Hush, Son, take my hand;
Your father loves you.

[Oddly enough, this poem, written at age 16, took on real-life significance many many years later.]

the second poem — responsible for the good luck! —

CAMOUFLAGE

O, Blackness,
Drink me in;
Make me a part of you.
If I hide inside you
I cannot reflect false feelings
Or glaring truth.
O, strong, cold Darkness,
Protect me;
Let me cower behind your ebony wall.
If I hide behind you
I cannot see the unknown horrors
Or lurking malice.
O, Night,
Cover me with your soot;
Soothe me with your ashes;
If I am murky with your smoke
I cannot feel tortured by accusing eyes
Or caustic conscience.

[not sure what I was thinking at age 16, but obviously something….]

and the poem from the following year —

seventeenth summer

a year and many pains away
will be the day i come of age,
but three hundred sixty-five truths
will come alive within my heart
until the day a year and many joys away
i come of age

 shattered many times,
 each time I lose a piece or two,
 a tiny splinter (or a few); 
 yet build me back—
 i’m good as new.
 yes, maybe with a lot of glue,
 some duct tape—yes, a bolt, a screw,
 perhaps i‘ll be a stronger whole
 (bolster me with iron pole).
 perhaps i’ll never miss those pieces,
 tiny splinters of my soul.