The Sonnet In Old Age
THE SONNET IN OLD AGE
If to the sessions of sweet silent thought
one summons memories of sonnets long reread in mind
unsprings the blasted lyrics Time has left unpaged
dreams of other nights and other days
in quiet places long since lost in youth
where little lines embodied- Glory, Beauty, Truth.
Then Shakespeare Donne Keats,
Hopkins Milton Wordsworth Yeats
Obscuring lesser names and smaller shades
Inspire with dearer dearer life
Tranquillity's reflection
in old age,
Consoling our last moments
in God's praise.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Literary Envy
LITERARY ENVY
Not Shakespeare
Not Tolstoy
Not Kafka Joyce Proust
Not Keats Yeats Wordsworth
Not Hopkins Dickinson
Not Whitman
Not I.B. Singer
Not Hemingway
Not Bellow
Not even Philip Roth
Updike or Salinger.
Not any of the writers
Whose work I love and admire.
Not even the living names now
Who will cease to be
Names In Time.
Like the great mass of mankind
When I die
I will not be in the Consciousness
Of future generations.
I will not be.
I will be ‘not’.
I
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Lost The Music Of My Poetry
I LOST THE MUSIC OF MY POETRY
I lost the music of my poetry
I tried to hear it again
In old lines of my own,
Or in the lines of more musical poets-
Tehillim and Kohleth
Stevens and Keats, Hopkins Wordsworth and Dickinson-
Shakespeare-
But I heard no music of my own
Perhaps I have never really had
A music of my own.
Perhaps all I have had
Is what I have here-
Short lines of prose
Which also have their rhythm-
But are not true poems
And certainly do not sing together
As my soul would.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Last Flower
Rich the first flower's graces be,
But dearer far the last to me;
My spirit feels renewal sweet,
Of all my dreams hope or desire--
The hours of parting oft inspire
More than the moments when we meet!
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Sweet Memories Of My Childhood Days
Sweet memories of my past
Like sweet gentle breeze upon the mast
Sweet ceaseless flow of the running stream
Sweet castles in my boyhood dream
Sweet tales of ages and places
Sweet memories of names and faces
Sweet whispering voices before dawn
Sweet ecstacies that linger on
Sweet glory of hard time overcome
Sweet hopeful days to come
Sweet cherished secret untold
Sweet tasted love of old
Sweet me, in most sweetest ways
Sweet undying memories of my childhood days! !
poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
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Kohelet Again It Is Not Just The Vanity Of Vanities
It is not just the vanity of vanities
It is not just the truth of the contradictions
It is not just ‘a time for this and a time for that'
It is not just ‘Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth before the evil days grow nigh'
It is not just ‘Better a living dog than a dead lion'
It is not just ‘Enjoy your days with the wife of your youth'
It is not just the eternal truths
And the poem of the long home-
And the turning again and again of the wind and the water
And the sun and the sound-
It is not just the sheer beauty of the thing and its words
Despite an occasional archaic ugliness
It is not just the truth that cannot be gone beyond
Because this is what life is and what the grave is and what we are
It is not just too ‘that the making of many books much less the making of many poems is a weariness of the flesh-
It is that after all the years I have arrived at the time
Where the golden bowl may be broken and the voice of the grinders made low
And man return to his eternal home-
As in youth I in old age read and reread the words of the Preacher
And know myself and all of us in them-
Oh the greatest Literature is here
And part of it I repeat in my fragmented self
While the long distance of life goes beyond
In words which will be heard for the first time -
For this too is not everything
And what we do not know yet
Kohelet too does not know-
And for all of us as God permits
Who knows what will come
After the Vanity-
If it is after all Vanity
And the end of it all?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Its Been A Long Long Time
Its been a long time...
Since I held you tight.
Its been a long time...
Everyday in this fight.
Its been a long...long...time.
Its been a long time...
Since I've had a kiss.
Its been a long time...
You're pretty blue eyes I miss.
Its been a long...long...time.
Its been a long time...
This Iraqi tour.
Its been a long time...
I miss you so and more.
Its been a long...long...time.
Its been a long time...
Hot days with freezing nights.
Its been a long time...
Sunburned face, mosquito bites.
Its been a long...long...time.
Its been a long time...
Had a real bad day.
Its been a long time...
Lost some soldiers today.
Its been a long...long...time.
Its been a long time...
I suffer everyday.
Its been a long time...
For me to be away.
Its been a long...long...time.
Its been a long time...
For me to be alone.
Its been a long time...
No talking on the telephone.
Its been a long...long...time.
Its been a long time...
Since you heard me say...
Baby, my sweet darling...
I'm leaving Iraq today!
poem by Philip Lore
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Memories
(words & music by bill strange - scott davis)
Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine
Quiet thought come floating down
And settle softly to the ground
Like golden autumn leaves around my feet
I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories,
Sweet memories
Of holding hands and red bouquets
And twilight trimmed in purple haze
And laughing eyes and simple ways
And quiet nights and gentle days with you
Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine,
Memories, memories, sweet memories
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memories in the mind
Memories are made in the mind,
and there if you search, you will find.
There in the mind, so many things,
so many memories it brings.
So many years have passed,
of our youth, away we have cast
some memories happy, some memories sad,
memories have I, when I was a lad.
Memories have I, of a dog named shep,
memories of him, when he kept in step.
Memories of my friends, when we played,
of those days, for ever memories relayed.
Memories of family and fun,
when we talked until the setting of sun.
Memories of washing our fifty-seven Ford,
and wanting things we couldn't afford.
Memories are made in the mind,
long lost, search and you will find,
memories of days gone by,
searching memories, oh how you try.
Memories will fade out,
you have forgotton, what it's about,
memories lost in the mind,
dig them out and you will find.
Fourteen beautiful birds on wings
As baker packs thirteen odd eggs to count
To a dozen, a sonneteer fourteen
Sweet lines of praise on thine slender frame mount,
That thine mysterious marvels ne'er lean
Might seem; and when all fourteen fully hatch
Ah, gorgeous chicks to be, ready to fly
In time together in one single batch,
Or in formations only sonnets try.
The eight of them may oft land to face strife,
The six more that follow, in counterpoint,
Resolve and soothe— ah, sonnet's very life,
As volta, shift, sonneteers oft anoint,
Of whose last two, twain wings of a couplet,
Come to sing last short song of the sonnet.
______________________________________ _____________
- Sonnets | 04.11.12 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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In Heart In Mind
In heart in mind there is no time
each moment merges with these moods of mine
others missunderstood and couldn't see
my neediness comes from my childhood days
when i craved love hugs warmth and praise
instead i found anger, hurt and rejection
which comes back to me in moments of silent reflection
these moments which leave others lost and confused
are the times im rembering how i was abused
there is a small child held dear in my heart
who cries each night long alone in the dark
who no one hears exept myself
my sadness effects my emotional health and others to.
to her people are cold, cruel and unforgiving
her life hardly seems worth the effort of living
if no one hears her i know i must
there must be someone for this child to trust
there was no rescue in those distant childhood days
and all these years later i still long to be saved
so when i seem down and reach for your touch
try to understand why i need it so much
don't ignore me when i act juevenille but hug me and hold me for the sake of that child.
poem by Kelly Louise Houseman
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So Many Gifts 1052 Sandrine Bonnant after William Shakespeare Sonnet CXXII
So many gifts to praise, so little space
Admitted in one sonnet's fourteen lines.
No syllables string purer pearls to grace
Dearer neck white swan, admiring, signs.
Recording more by hints than overstatement
I find a phrase to praise, a way to free
No common rays which hasten to abatement,
Eternal mistress, timeless mystery,
Beauty's damsel with her dulcimer.
Other tunes for other ears may play,
No opiate one needs to dream on her
Need feeds from intuitions we'd obey!
Ask fourteen lines to touch her timeless scope?
Themes lack place to trace homage though I hope.
(13 November 2004)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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These Words Too Say What Love Was
ATHESE WORDS TOO SAY WHAT LOVE WAS
These words too say what Love was-
Though I am long from that love and those feelings-
Once there were songs in the night and great passion
And we were a kind of happiness that only the very blessed know-
I had dreamed of such love for so long
And you in your beauty were all Beauty could ever be-
We loved for a long time
And in that love I learned forever that Love is real-
But somehow in a way I will never understand
For you that love died-
And I was left loving without being loved
And had to go a long time in the pain of longing for you again-
But that was long long ago
And now where our love is no one can ever know
For it is only in memories that cannot truly capture what it really was-
Love it is true is the most beautiful thing we know
And I knew this with you
And will be grateful for it forever-
Though the nights the many years of nights in the long time that has passed say
There are other feelings by which we live and kinder quieter loves also -
O passion of my life oh destiny long gone oh Love I will never know again,
Do you blame yourself at all as I long ago have forgiven you
For abandoning the Beauty of our Life for long sad years of concentrated mindfilled gladnesses?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Take From Wordsworth The Love of Calm Beauty
I TAKE FROM WORDSWORTH THE LOVE OF CALM BEAUTY
I take from Wordsworth the Love of Calm Beauty-
From Coleridge distracted searching for an Idea of it all-
From Borges the Pleasure in stories of Mind-
From Hopkins Alliteration’s passion in Poetry's Despair-
From Dickinson enigmatic perceiving of Infinity not found-
From Shakespeare more than I can name or hear-
From Psalms the God I Need and I Fear.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Nevermind
The war was lost
The treaty signed
I was not caught
I crossed the line
I was not caught
Though many tried
I live among you
Well disguised
I had to leave
My life behind
I dug some graves
You’ll never find
The story’s told
With facts and lies
I had a name
But never mind
Never mind
Never mind
The war was lost
The treaty signed
There’s truth that lives
And truth that dies
I don’t know which
So never mind
Your victory
Was so complete
That some among you
Thought to keep
A record of
Our little lives
The clothes we wore
Our spoons our knives
The games of luck
Our soldiers played
The stones we cut
The songs we made
Our law of peace
Which understands
A husband leads
A wife commands
And all of this
Expressions of
The Sweet Indifference
Some call Love
The High Indifference
Some call Fate
But we had Names
More intimate
Names so deep and
Names so true
They’re blood to me
They’re dust to you
There is no need
That this survive
There’s truth that lives
And truth that dies
Never mind
Never mind
I live the life
I left behind
There’s truth that lives...
I could not kill
The way you kill
I could not hate
I tried I failed
You turned me in
At least you tried
You side with them
Whom you despise
This was your heart
This swarm of flies
This was once your mouth
This bowl of lies
You serve them well
I’m not surprised
You’re of their kin
You’re of their kind
Never mind
Never mind
The story’s told
With facts and lies
You own the world
So never mind
Never mind
Never mind
I live the life
I left behind
I live it full
I live it wide
Through layers of time
You can’t divide
My woman’s here
My children too
Their graves are safe
From ghosts like you
In places deep
With roots entwined
I live the life I left behind
song performed by by Leonard Cohen, music by Patrick Leonard, lyrics by Leonard Cohen (2016)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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On Some Memories
i summon memories
of my youth
i call them by their names
one by one
sweet names
and places
i want them back again
like the way
they once tasted
to my tongues
they are not coming
i call them again
their sweet names
one by one
they are not coming
even if i
tell them
even if just in a dream in sleep in small moments
they are not comings still
definitely, they are not coming back
because i have been so cruel
poem by Antonio Liao
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Beyond Infinity
Welcome to my world, take my hand and see.
Come into my world, a world of mystery.
It’s a magical place where dark meets light,
shades of shadow grey, fading into night.
A world where everyone speaks in rhyme,
with laughing and dancing and bending time.
The place where dreams, become reality
and children rule with regal majesty.
Come into my world of tranquility,
where we warp time and stability.
So open your mind as you fantasize
and step in the mirror before your eyes.
A place where laughter is the only rule
and lessons are learned in paradox school.
Author notes
Sonnet
Sonnets are formal poems and consist of 14 lines (3 quatrains and a couplet) , traditionally written in iambic pentameter - that is, in lines ten syllables long, with accents falling on every second syllable.
poem by Amera Andersen
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Golden Days
I long for those days
which were filled with full of laughter,
Without worrying about time
when we just used to loiter
I miss those days
which were full of pranks n mischief,
When we used to burst into laughing
without minding the crowd or anything
People used to mock us
& call us the laughter stock,
yet we were unmindful
& simply used to rock!
Yes I long for the lost happiness
for the lost world,
My today seems to be void minus those moments
Its like an ocean without a pearl!
For the moments we spent together
were The Best,
As we used to have a blast
with all the zeal n the zest.
Today we know its not possible for us
to rewind again,
As we were girls then, n now a mother n a wife
who has taken a more responsible path now in life.
But I still live in those moments
by rewinding the cute, sweet, unforgettable memories,
By smiling all alone
forgetting all my present worries!
poem by Kavita Iyer
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In London Town
It is not here I best enjoy
The pleasure, that can never cloy,
Of idly roaming London town,
Where such familiar names look down
Upon the wanderer in the street,
From Cheapside, Cornhill, and the Fleet.
The noisy, pushing, bustling crowd,
The din of trade and traffic loud,
Confuse the too bewildered sense
And drive a thousand memories hence.
When in the quiet town once more,
Where not a murmur of the roar
Of busy trade or loud displays
Disturb the quiet of her ways,
Backward my soul will turn and then
Will walk these London streets again;
While wits and poets of years gone by,
Who now in dim cathedrals lie,
Will meet me where their memories make
The places dearer for their sake —
And with their shades perchance a few
Of living forms shall mingle too.
So, often when the daylight dies,
Shall I at evcning close my eyes
To walk again the Strand, the Fleet,
And every dear familiar street,
And, undisturbed by din or roar,
Find every house and nook once more.
My London, which I carry west,
Is peopled only by her best.
poem by Walter Learned
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Ah, dearer than my soul. Dearer than light, or life, or fame.
quote by John Oldham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Could Transcend Time
If I could transcend time
This would be the time I would choose
To spend every minute with you
This now would be our time
But each day we grow older
The inevitable grows closer and closer
The lines become clearer
And you become dearer
To this time in my mind
I will always come
When the day is long
And when the night is young
I will come back here time and time again
To spend the time with you
The time is now
The time I spend with you
poem by Brian Kilpatrick
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