Poems
by Robert Lundy
Haiku
obscure opening
impenetrable center
ambiguous end
Tidings of Comfort and Joy
There’s no place to hide in a poetry workshop.
All your emotions twist slow in the wind.
You cannot retract what you say, for you can’t stop
To think and to edit, however you’ve sinned.
There’s no place to hide when the first draft’s inflicted
On the preoccupied crowd in the room.
The lines literary that your glory predicted
May also foreshadow your cultural doom.
There’s no place to hide from the words you have written
Once you have risen, their sense to declaim.
They circle the room; your posterior’s bitten –
And none but yourself to be stuck with the blame.
There’s no place to hide once the air starts to vibrate
You perceive rows of critics with ravening jaws –
But everyone there’s in exactly the same state:
Whatever you write, what you get is applause.
Click on this: next column
On Other Poets
I found a book by Ferlinghetti.
So many pages,
so little time.
So many verses,
so little rhyme.
I fear to some it looks quite petty,
But that’s my take on Ferlinghetti.
Robert Frost
Leaves me cold.
Not because his poetry is not wonderful,
But he writes about New England,
which seems always brisk and chilly
and never warm and sunderful.
Of all the poets I admire
And to whose mantle I aspire
The one that leaps first to my mind, in spite of
a tendency to ignore meter and rhythm and all
the other rules of the art, and to create awful puns,
and even create words that previously did not
exist so he can turn them into awful puns,
as I say the one that leaps to my mind in a flash,
Is Ogden Nash.
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Robert Lunday and Elizabeth Williams share a website at http://www.hitherandyahn.com. Bob was born in Bethesda, Maryland, in 1947. His father was a career naval officer, so he lived in a variety of places as a child, attending school in five states and two countries. He helped to found the Frank Craig poetry group in the Solana Beach Library. |
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Thanks for the poems, Robert... J. Wolf
