Hugh Cobb

Hugh Cobb Poems

Encased in indifferent ice
glacial heart beats slowly, coolly
caring less about others' needs
than preserving spirit's isolation;

If youth could age's wisdom ken,
& age could know youth's fire again
or age could Old Time's hands turn back
T'would then be youth with time to spend

How can I express the inexpressible?
Paint with words a portrait of my heart
when I think of you -
Not the pulsing muscle

Your icy reign almost an end,
stolen bride prepares her return to light.

Late December night
unseasonal, almost balmy
I step into the small Japanese Garden
in the center of three buildings:

The window presents a view:
various shades of verdancy;
bright yellow green to deepest pines
& a thousand tones in between.

A river
or mountain brook
murmurs over stones,
a mystery of tranquility

'Crossing the line' - what does it mean, exactly?
It's the ultimate situational-dependent phrase.
Lines are always moving, shifting, changing
form from straight to circle, arc to tangent...

(for Cathy)

It is remarkable: fragile wings beat air;
send ripples resounding through time & space;

I thought it would rain today
sky hanging low & threatening
but like a bully w/o balls
it merely blustered:

How must it be to see with compound eyes:
myriad images of the same view
each with a slightly different focal length?
How can your nervous system not overload,

Equinox passed: (a pause so slight
if you blink you could miss it entirely.)
Persephone has not yet returned to Demeter:
Hades is frozen with grief at her leaving,

Making lists -
a substitute for action
emotion, all human transactions
cross indexed kept sterile

I find myself envious of extinction:
Snail Darters & other species hanging on the brink...
More envious still of those already vanish'd
from our corrupted & polluted plane

Worlds are altered, not destroyed:
physics echoes metaphysics.

Pain & pressure in my head
intense, almost unbearable
gives warning soon I might be dead...
(A condition quite past care-able.)

Seven years since your eyes
closed for the last time
Scrub clad in whites or greens,

in vino veritas
so goes the phrase
& so t'would seem to be:

Missing element defies sleep:
I wake up calling names,
illusion's plaything -
only you're never there

Too much of this, yet ne'er enough, for you
alone can fill this empty void within my heart
wherein reason fails & of mem'ry all is rue.
I beg you lady, to begin. What's left is all your part.

Hugh Cobb Biography

Born in NYC and raised in Georgia, Hugh began writing poetry as a teenager. He was first published while a Junior in College. His latest publication came September 11,2002 with an anniverary poem of the terrorist attack of September 11,2001. Hugh holds a BA in English Literature and an MFA in Theatre. He has taught at the college level, had a career as a professional actor and director and has worked in the corporate world. Hugh is delighted to be back on Poemhunter! A lot of life has intervened over the past eleven years. I reunited with the love of my life and she passed away in my arms 14 October 2009. I am on life support and am living my last days as fully and joyously as I can. May you all find what you truly seek. Peace!)

The Best Poem Of Hugh Cobb

An Ice-Bound Heart

Encased in indifferent ice
glacial heart beats slowly, coolly
caring less about others' needs
than preserving spirit's isolation;
or, caught in ego's snares,
thinks only of itself.
What an isolated soul it is:
seeing only its reflection
frozen in winter's frosty panes.

Can nothing crack the ice,
penetrate to spirit's depth
melt glacial walls
& let uncorrupted love enter,
laughing with joy?
Can such a heart,
(frigid & safe behind
accumulated rime)
ever take pleasure
other than isolation's illusory dance?
How then will it learn:

We all are connected; unique yet same.
Each of us carries Divinity's spark.
It matters not our heritage nor our name.
Disregarding others we stay lost in the dark,
Empty, cold & so forlorn,
'twere better we were never born
than waste our gifts in empty show,
Lock'd within self, nowhere to go:
always nose 'gainst glass press'd firm
Gazing outward o'er a glacial berm,
Surrounded by a self-made wall of ice
Never to know or enter paradise.

(Copyright 12/11/2005)

Hugh Cobb Comments

kskdnj sajn 03 May 2006

Hugh is an amazing person and writer. His poems offer witt, knowledge, wisdom, thought, reflection and spirit. He has a natural flow, and a keen perspective. Check out his....' Heart's Song, the Inadequacy of Words ' Thanks Hugh for all your thoughts, Ang.

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Michael Shepherd 27 April 2006

Apart from his justly celebrated fine poems, Hugh Cobb is the most generous, appreciative and eloquent (in that order) comment-writer on the poems of others, to be found on this site. To receive a comment from him is a delight and a privilege.

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Anna Russell 10 April 2006

Hugh's work is informative, thought provoking and intelligent. His poems will reward you not only on the first read, but every time after that. If you're the meditating type, you've come to the right place - if not, then read on, you soon will be! Spiritual, beautiful and never dumbed down, this is a man who's works deserve to be read.

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Joseph Daly 30 December 2005

It is such a pleasure to read Hugh's works. His celebration of life is captured, sometimes even in one word, with such precicion. In our contemporary time, where belief is almost a dirty word, Hugh maintains his faith. Although an atheist myself, I see in Hugh's works (where he introduces his faith) a strong commitment to humanity and an abandondment of dogma. For the reader, Hugh says: 'This is what I believe. This is my worldview, You decide! '.

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