Spanish (by Carl Sandburg)

Carl Sandburg

Spanish
by Carl Sandburg
from Smoke and Steel  [1916, Harcourt, Brace & Howe]

Fasten black eyes on me.
I ask nothing of you under the peach trees,
Fasten your black eyes in my gray
               with the spear of a storm.
The air under the peach blossoms is a haze of pink.



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By the Stream (by Paul Laurence Dunbar)

 
Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1872-1906

By the Stream
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
[from Lyrics of Lowly Life, 1896] 

By the stream I dream in calm delight, and watch as in a glass,
How the clouds like crowds of snowy-hued and white-robed maidens pass,
And the water into ripples breaks and sparkles as it spreads,
Like a host of armored knights with silver helmets on their heads.

And I deem the stream an emblem fit of human life may go,
For I find a mind may sparkle much and yet but shallows show,
And a soul may glow with myriad lights and wonderous mysteries,
When it only lies a dormant thing and mirrors what it sees. 
 
 

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Honeydew Sherbet (by Donal Mahoney)

  

Honeydew Sherbet 
by Donal Mahoney


Down the patio walk,
white stones, through the garden,
under the trellis toward me
yellow frock, yellow hair
rising and falling

I lie in my lawn chair,
spoon honeydew sherbet, sip
pink ade from a tall glass,
cubes circling

She is almost upon me
I look up and I tell her
I have sand, sea, skies, laughs,
all paid for and nothing
nothing at all to do.

* * *

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri. His poetry and fiction have appeared in a variety of publications in North America, Europe, Asia and Africa. Some of his early poems, written between 1965 and 1971, can be found at http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com/.

Marvoil (by Ezra Pound)

Marvoil
by Ezra Pound
from Personae (published in 1909 by Faber and Faber)

A poor clerk I, “Arnaut the less” they call me,
And because I have small mind to sit
Day long, long day cooped on a stool
A-jumbling o’ figures for Maitre Jacques Polin,
I ha’ taken to rambling the South here.

The Vicomte of Beziers ‘s not such a bad lot.
I made rimes to his lady this three year:
Vers and canzone, till that damn’d son of Aragon,
Alfonso the half-bald, took to hanging
His helmet at Beziers.
Then came what might come, to wit: three men and one woman,
Beziers off at Mont-Ausier, I and his lady
Singing the stars in the turrets of Beziers,
And one lean Aragonese cursing the seneschal
To the end that you see, friends:

Aragon cursing in Aragon, Beziers busy at Beziers–
Bored to an inch of extinction,
Tibors all tongue and temper at Mont-Ausier,
Me! in this damn’d inn of Avignon,
Stringing long verse for the Burlatz;
All for one half-bald, knock-knee’d king of the Aragonese,
Alfonso, Quattro, poke-nose.

And if when I am dead
They take the trouble to tear out this wall here,
They’ll know more of Arnaut of Marvoil
Than half his canzoni say of him.
As for will and testament I leave none,
Save this: “Vers and canzone to the Countess of Beziers
In return for the first kiss she gave me.”
May her eyes and her cheek be fair
To all men except the King of Aragon,
And may I come speedily to Beziers
Whither my desire and my dream have preceded me.

O hole in the wall here! be thou my jongleur
As ne’er had I other, and when the wind blows,
Sing thou the grace of the Lady of Beziers,
For even as thou art hollow before I fill thee with this parchment,
So is my heart hollow when she filleth not mine eyes,
And so were my mind hollow, did she not fill utterly my thought.

Wherefore, O hole in the wall here,
When the wind blows sigh thou for my sorrow
That I have not the Countess of Beziers
Close in my arms here.
Even as thou shalt soon have this parchment.

O hole in the wall here, be thou my jongleur,
And though thou sighest my sorrow in the wind,
Keep yet my secret in thy breast here;
Even as I keep her image in my heart here. 

          Mihi pergamena deest

 

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The Dilettante: A Modern Type (by Paul Laurence Dunbar)

 
Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1872-1906

The Dilettante: A Modern Type
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
[from Lyrics of Lowly Life, 1896] 

He scribbles some in prose and verse,
     And now and then he prints it;
He paints a little,–gathers some 
     Of Nature’s gold and mints it.

He plays a little, sings a song, 
     Acts tragic roles, or funny;
He does, because his love is strong, 
     But not, oh, not for money!

He studies almost everything 
     From social art to science;
A thirsty mind, a flowing spring, 
     Demand and swift compliance.

He looms above the sordid crowd– 
     At least through friendly lenses;
While his mamma looks pleased and proud, 
     And kindly pays expenses. 

 

* * *

   

Lines for a Female Psychiatrist (by Donal Mahoney)

  

Lines for a Female Psychiatrist
by Donal Mahoney


Perhaps when I’m better I’ll discover
you aren’t married, after all,
and I should be better by Spring.

On that day I’ll walk
down Michigan Avenue
and up again along the Lake,
my back to the wind, facing you,
my black raincoat buttoned to the neck,
my collar a castle wall
around my crew cut growing in.

Do you remember the first hour?
I sat there unshaven,
a Martian drummed from his planet,
ordered never to return.

With your legs crossed,
you smoked the longest cigarette
and blinked like a child when I said,
“I’m distracted by your knee.”

The first six months you smoked
four cigarettes a session
as I prayed out my litany of escapades,
each detail etched perfectly in place.

The day we finally changed chairs
and I became the patient
and you the doctor,
you knew that I didn’t know
where I had been,
where I was then,
and even though my hair
had begun to grow in
how far I’d have to go
before I could begin.

* * *

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri. His poetry and fiction have appeared in a variety of publications in North America, Europe, Asia and Africa. Some of his early poems, written between 1965 and 1971, can be found at http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com/.

To a Friend Whose Work Has Come to Nothing (by William Butler Yeats)

Yeats [by George Charles Beresford, 1911]

To a Friend Whose Work Has Come to Nothing 
by William Butler Yeats
from Responsibilities [1914]

Now all the truth is out,

Be secret and take defeat

From any brazen throat,

For how can you compete,

Being honour bred, with one

Who were it proved he lies

Were neither shamed in his own

Nor in his neighbours’ eyes;

Bred to a harder thing

Than Triumph, turn away

And like a laughing string

Whereon mad fingers play

Amid a place of stone,

Be secret and exult,

Because of all things known

That is most difficult.

* * * * *

To read more Yeats in the Online Library, please click here.

Chooose (by Carl Sandburg)

 

Carl Sandburg

Chooose
by Carl Sandburg
from Chicago Poems, 1916

     The single clenched fist lifted and ready,
Or the open asking hand held out and waiting. 
                     Choose:
For we meet by one or the other.


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The Reminder (by Heather Ann Schmidt)

 

The Reminder

by Heather Ann Schmidt

I feel Lou Hoover’s ghost walk with me

as I go under the arch

and see their names

recalling Tientsin.



And I remember leafing through the pages of

her diary from that June.

their bravery reminding me

that today it is good to dance in the rain,

lifting my arms up to the sky,

expecting a starling to land on my palm

creating the opportunity for an

impromptu duet. 

 

* * * * *
Heather Ann Schmidt has taught writing and more for several institutions of higher learning in Michigan and online. Her most recent poetry books are The Bat’s Love Song: American Haiku (2009, Crisis Chronicles), On Recalling Life Through the Eye of the Needle [2011, Village Green], Transient Angels [2011, Crisis Chronicles] and Batik [2012, NightBallet]. She is also the founding editor and publisher for Recycled Karma Press.  Heather’s forthcoming collections include Red Hibiscus and Field Notes.  Find more at http://heatherannschmidt.yolasite.com.

A Negro Love Song (by Paul Laurence Dunbar)

 
Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1872-1906

A Negro Love Song
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
[from Lyrics of Lowly Life, 1896] 

Seen my lady home las’ night,
     Jump back, honey, jump back.
Hel’ huh han’ an’ sque’z it tight, 
     Jump back, honey, jump back.
Hyeahd huh sigh a little sigh, 
Seen a light gleam f’om huh eye,
An’ a smile go flittin’ by– 
     Jump back, honey, jump back.

Hyeahd de win’ blow thoo de pine, 
     Jump back, honey, jump back.
Mockin’-bird was singin’ fine, 
     Jump back, honey, jump back.
An’ my hea’t was beatin’ so, 
When I reached my lady’s do’,
Dat I couldn’t ba’ to go– 
     Jump back, honey, jump back.

Put my ahm aroun’ huh wais’, 
     Jump back, honey, jump back.
Raised huh lips an’ took a tase, 
     Jump back, honey, jump back.
Love me, honey, love me true?
Love me well ez I love you?
An’ she answe’d, “‘Cose I do”– 
     Jump back, honey, jump back. 
 

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