Michael Shepherd

Rookie (8.4.1929 / Marton, Lancashire)

In Reply To Your Irate Comment... - Poem by Michael Shepherd

...well, yes, I agree the 'Comment' box is for comments - but hold on -
I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry...
yes, growing up in the Bible Belt
must be purgatory with only heaven and hell
I mean who reads Dante?
just don't unload it all on me, OK?

I guess I should try to explain myself
(this could be a long one,
like the others I pass over on this site,
who's got time for Byron or Browning or Milton?) :

Trying to make sense of this world
in the allotted time, ho ho,
I've found it helpful in the mind
- though I'm not 'religious',
but not aggressively irreligious I hope;
but still rather pressingly interested
in life and death, that sort of thing -
the concept of some possible unity
through love, Providence, order, law
(the Sun doesn't take a day off)
call it what you will
(or not - the Indians have spent
thousands of years on this sort of language)
and the possibility of finding
things related in some way through
something more than Chaos Theory
(as in a teenager's room)
or Evolution from two atoms
(by Whose law, huh?) -

(are you still with me?)

so that as in the most beautiful
metaphors and analogies
that poets delight in,
you and I and butterflies
and blue jays
and the smell of Spring
and yes, love -
are in some way related...

I think I'll stop there.

Comments about In Reply To Your Irate Comment... by Michael Shepherd

  • john tiong chunghoo (3/20/2005 10:40:00 AM)

    this haiku inspired by your lines:

    his calmness/finding shakespeare/still has staunch critics

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  • (2/15/2005 4:49:00 PM)

    Must remember to work my way through all the comments to find who the target of this effort might be.
    It was a fieldmarshall in Hitler's forces who said: 'You don't give an inordinate amount of time to the enemy even if he is of high rank.'
    But this has given me a grand idea. I will attempt (strike that, succeed) to make my next shopping list into a poem. Over to the grass-fed meat, now the homebrand birdie seed, discount coupons, now I utter, wandering over to the butter,
    4 cans of the best clam chowder, soap and toothpaste, blades and powder..
    Get the drift.

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Read poems about / on: sorry, spring, beautiful, heaven, hope, death, time, sun, world, metaphor, butterfly

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, February 15, 2005

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