Poems Of Joys
O TO make the most jubilant poem!
Even to set off these, and merge with these, the carols of Death.
O full of music! full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!
Full of common employments! full of grain and trees.
O for the voices of animals! O for the swiftness and balance of
fishes!
O for the dropping of rain-drops in a poem!
O for the sunshine, and motion of waves in a poem.
Starting From Paumanok
STARTING from fish-shape Paumanok, where I was born,
Well-begotten, and rais'd by a perfect mother;
After roaming many lands--lover of populous pavements;
Dweller in Mannahatta, my city--or on
southern savannas;
Or a soldier camp'd, or carrying my knapsack and gun--or a miner in
California;
Or rude in my home in Dakota's woods, my diet meat, my drink from the
spring;
Wild Peaches
1
When the world turns completely upside down
You say we'll emigrate to the Eastern Shore
Aboard a river-boat from Baltimore;
We'll live among wild peach trees, miles from town,
You'll wear a coonskin cap, and I a gown
Homespun, dyed butternut's dark gold colour.
Lost, like your lotus-eating ancestor,
We'll swim in milk and honey till we drown.
A Song Of Joys
O to make the most jubilant song!
Full of music-full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!
Full of common employments-full of grain and trees.
O for the voices of animals-O for the swiftness and balance of fishes!
O for the dropping of raindrops in a song!
O for the sunshine and motion of waves in a song!
O the joy of my spirit-it is uncaged-it darts like lightning!
It is not enough to have this globe or a certain time,
Ode To The Johns Hopkins University
How tall among her sisters, and how fair, --
How grave beyond her youth, yet debonair
As dawn, 'mid wrinkled Matres of old lands
Our youngest Alma Mater modest stands!
In four brief cycles round the punctual sun
Has she, old Learning's latest daughter, won
This grace, this stature, and this fruitful fame.
Howbeit she was born
Unnoised as any stealing summer morn.
From far the sages saw, from far they came
A Poem For The Meeting Of The American Medical Association At New York, May 5, 1853
I HOLD a letter in my hand,-
A flattering letter, more's the pity,-
By some contriving junto planned,
And signed per order of Committee.
It touches every tenderest spot,-
My patriotic predilections,
My well-known -something- don't ask what,-
My poor old songs, my kind affections.
They make a feast on Thursday next,
Vision Of Columbus - Book 4
In one dark age, beneath a single hand,
Thus rose an empire in the savage land.
Her golden seats, with following years, increase,
Her growing nations spread the walks of peace,
Her sacred rites display the purest plan,
That e'er adorn'd the unguided mind of man.
Yet all the pomp, the extended climes unfold,
The fields of verdure and the towers of gold,
Those works of peace, and sovereign scenes of state,
In short-lived glory, hasten to their fate.
Francis Scott Key
'I inscribe this chant for all my people' St Jean Perse
Out on a vessel in Chesapeake Bay
A young man arose at the break of the day
With nightmarish thoughts of Baltimore burning
After the memory of Washington's terror.
As he climbed to the deck, his stomach was churning
With great trepidation at the expected horror.
But then, in the distance a flag was unfurling
Over Fort McHenry his flag was still there!
The Sea Hold
THE SEA is large.
The sea hold on a leg of land in the Chesapeake hugs an early sunset and a last morning star over the oyster beds and the late clam boats of lonely men.
Five white houses on a half-mile strip of land … five white dice rolled from a tube.
Not so long ago … the sea was large…
And to-day the sea has lost nothing … it keeps all.
I am a loon about the sea.
I make so many sea songs, I cry so many sea cries, I forget so many sea songs and sea cries.
My Feelings
When you come around heaven smiles
I have this feeling for you as if you as if you are a new toy
What beats with blood also jumps for joy
When you come in my face, my eyes decline
The way you feel me up with your hands
Makes me just want to lay
Me wanting to go jump in the Chesapeake Bay
But I'll return as long you're walking these lands
Tom Zart War Poems
SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF WORLD WAR III
The White House
Washington
Tom Zart's Poems
March 16,2007
Ms. Lillian Cauldwell
President and Chief Executive Officer
Moon So Full
The Chesapeake skies cleared that night.
The days leading up were full of clouds,
With no promise of seeing the eclipse;
But blue began to show a few hours before sunset,
And hope began to bloom.
Sitting outside looking up,
The moon shone white and bright;
Then the shadow moved slowly across its face,
Ode To The Oysters Of Apalachicola
These ugly looking lumps of calcium carbonate,
Unlike their cousins that collectors take.
Have a name known far and wide
As Apalach Oysters. ‘Tis said with pride.
No other Oysters hold a candle,
To those grown in Florida's panhandle.
The Bay's are large ‘n sweet;
Known at the Bar as Nature's treat.
Zz Fish Can'T Scream. Their Flesh Is Radioactive, Neurotoxic, And Carcinogenic
JBO:
'The beach at Sanibel... an Arlington Cemetery of shells.'
*
Fish cannot scream.
Greed for suffocated fish flesh causes seals to be clubbed in Canada,
dolphins to be knifed in Japan, whales to be murdered by
Norwegian Japanese Icelandic and American Inuit fishermen, bears
The Presidency & General Washington
Those who wish to be President
Must practice what they teach.
For their people need inspiring
To believe what they preach.
Take heed therefore, unto yourselves
You overseers of the flock
Or the voters shall cast you out
For your futures are not of rock.
To The Eastern Shore
I'S feelin' kin' o' lonesome in my little room to-night,
An' my min's done los' de minutes an' de miles,
W'ile it teks me back a-flyin' to de country of delight,
Whaih de Chesapeake goes grumblin' er wid smiles.
Oh, de ol' plantation's callin' to me,
Come, come back,
Hyeah's de place fu' you to labouh an' to res',
Fu' my sandy roads is gleamin' w'ile de city ways is black;
Come back, honey, case yo' country home is bes'.
I know de moon is shinin' down erpon de Eastern sho',
Oxymoron
Oxymoron:
fresh fish
*********
JBO:
'The beach at Sanibel... an Arlington Cemetery of shells.'
*
Chesapeake Bay.
I remember
The heat
And the bugs
The lazy bay, in the forest
Muddy
America At War Poems
ULTIMATE SACRIFICE
Our men and women give the ultimate sacrifice
When they pledge to defend our flag.
In hot spots throughout our world
They defeat our enemies who brag.
Most say their prayers to their own private God
To protect and bring them safely home.
It's our job as patriots and Americans
Inside Chesapeake Channel
distant cars crossing bridge
small as matchbox colorless
some are in a hurry; passing
disappearing in depth tunnels
to come out to another bridge
as giant cargo ship inch its way
harbor patrols slice channel
for traffic control and security
this is becoming fish sanctuary