No More Clichés

Beautiful face
That like a daisy opens its petals to the sun
So do you
Open your face to me as I turn the page.

Enchanting smile
Any man would be under your spell,
Oh, beauty of a magazine.

How many poems have been written to you?

Chicago

Hog Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I
have seen your painted women under the gas lamps
luring the farm boys.
And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it

The Next War

War's a joke for me and you,
Wile we know such dreams are true.
- Siegfried Sassoon

Out there, we've walked quite friendly up to Death,-
Sat down and eaten with him, cool and bland,-
Pardoned his spilling mess-tins in our hand.
We've sniffed the green thick odour of his breath,-
Our eyes wept, but our courage didn't writhe.
He's spat at us with bullets and he's coughed

Impossible To Tell

to Robert Hass and in memory of Elliot Gilbert


Slow dulcimer, gavotte and bow, in autumn,
Bashõ and his friends go out to view the moon;
In summer, gasoline rainbow in the gutter,

The secret courtesy that courses like ichor
Through the old form of the rude, full-scale joke,
Impossible to tell in writing. 'Bashõ'

Prospice

Fear death?---to feel the fog in my throat,
The mist in my face,
When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
I am nearing the place,
The power of the night, the press of the storm,
The post of the foe;
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form;
Yet the strong man must go:
For the journey is done and the summit attained,
And the barriers fall,

A Silent Sight

a fleet of birds
in the sky
forming an arrow
cutting across the wind
to reach their destination....
the shape remains the same
the birds keep changing their positions
to avoid exhaustion
what was the instruction?
who was their instructor?

An Electric Sign Goes Dark

Poland, France, Judea ran in her veins,
Singing to Paris for bread, singing to Gotham in a fizz at the pop of a bottle’s cork.

“Won’t you come and play wiz me” she sang … and “I just can’t make my eyes behave.”
“Higgeldy-Piggeldy,” “Papa’s Wife,” “Follow Me” were plays.

Did she wash her feet in a tub of milk? Was a strand of pearls sneaked from her trunk? The newspapers asked.
Cigarettes, tulips, pacing horses, took her name.

Twenty years old … thirty … forty …

*human Shield

HUMAN SHIELD
the order of the day with every cadre
BATTLE FIELD
brought into the habitant world

the fighter and the fought
the winner and the loser
claim to be safeguarding habitants interest
how did he then become the shield and was killed

Courtship Of Miles Standish, The

I
MILES STANDISH

In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims
To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather,
Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.
Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing
Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,
Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber, --

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.

Prize Fighter

Only dumb guys fight.
If I wasn't dumb
I wouldn't be fightin'.
I could make six dollars a day
On the docks
And I'd save more than I do now.
Only dumb guys fight.

In Honour Of St. Alphonsus Rodriguez

Laybrother of the Society of Jesus


Honour is flashed off exploit, so we say;
And those strokes once that gashed flesh or galled shield
Should tongue that time now, trumpet now that field,
And, on the fighter, forge his glorious day.
On Christ they do and on the martyr may;
But be the war within, the brand we wield
Unseen, the heroic breast not outward-steeled,

Happy Happy Birthday ☆ Toadluvinlady☆ '

Happy Happy birthday ☆ Toadluvinlady☆ '

To the 'LOVELY, TOAD LUV IN LADY'
with the most~
'COMPASSIONATE HEART'
let me say ~
happy happy birthday to you ~
i lift up my glass with a~
'LYRICAL toast'
just as 'BEAUTIFULLY WONDERFUL'

# As Fighter And Fought - Lord Krishna

[A scene from the hindu epic Mahabharatham
where both duryodhan and arjun come to lord
krishna for favors to sopport them in the war
KURUKSHETRA WAR]



Arjun sat near foot
duryodhan sat near his head
god in deep slumber

Beowulf

LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the earls. Since erst he lay
friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
till before him the folk, both far and near,
who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,

The Hill

Where are Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom, and Charley,
The weak of will, the strong of arm, the clown, the boozer, the fighter?
All, all, are sleeping on the hill.

One passed in a fever,
One was burned in a mine,
One was killed in a brawl,
One died in jail,
One fell from a bridge toiling for children and wife--
All, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill.

African Pirates

Freedom fighter or terrorist? Depends whose side you’re on,
Africa’s ‘freedom fighters’… proud pirates everyone,
No freedom was ever gained for Black folk’s kith or kin,
Their fight was not for liberty, but to loot now from within.

Robert Gabriel Mugabe, Africa’s pirate supreme,
Thieving and plundering are his passions it would seem;
But in this act he’s not alone, for Grace is worse by far,
They aught now both to be rolled, in feathers and hot tar,

Don Juan: Canto The Eleventh

I
When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter,"
And proved it--'twas no matter what he sald:
They say his system 'tis in vain to batter,
Too subtle for the airiest human head;
And yet who can believe it! I would shatter
Gladly all matters down to stone or lead,
Or adamant, to find the World a spirit,
And wear my head, denying that I wear it.II
What a sublime discovery 'twas to make the

Peace Planet 2 - I Wish

I wish, I could sit on top of a mountain
Where the majestic mountains just stand still,
Like Yogis seated in deep meditation, in absolute silence!

I wish, I could stand and watch the blue clouds,
Not a bit scared, about fighter planes dropping bombs,
And turning the pink blue mountains into ghostly silhouettes!

I wish, I could go on a boat ride along a cool lake,
Not tensed whether I would be attacked by terrorists,

A 500th Poem

Why should I not celebrate it as an auspicious occasion?
Completion of 500th poem should not end my passion
I will have to struggle hard to make poems known to outside world
Even if I am cold shuddered, relations strained or turn into cold

How many inspired me in this holy drive?
How could I be stayed on for long and survive?
Certainly they captured my heart and soul in open
Why should I look back to unpleasant things and reopen