'Odes to Poets' Contest: THE ENTRIES

[poetinahat]

You sang to me of rivers old
and de bridges whats' in de air.
An' took me up ta Harlem too
an' tol' me
'bout da city fare,

and how it cost to be Black and poor
stepped over by the ruling white,
with poems about the Waldorf
all polished
in a sea of blight.

You gave to us the rhythm of
Blues music in the words you wrote,
and told us what your "Motto" was
which in
these words I quote:

....."My motto,

.....As I live and learn,

.....is:

.....Dig And Be Dug

.....In Return."

I read about a "crystal stair"
no mother had to tread upon
and how "The Negro Mother" bore
the seed of freedom's
yet born sons.

I felt ashamed of our ancestors;
how can people be that way?
You struck the nerve of conscience
with the truth
your words displayed.

.....I know a man defiantly proud

.....in the beauty of his own race

.....who shared with me his words of strength

.....and shoved my freedom in my face.

I'm sorry 'bout de Merry-go-'roun
and de laws of old Jim Crow,
an' dat de road done bin so long
where freedom
had to go.

God bless you Langston Hughes.

http://www.poemhunter.com/langston-hughes/

[poetinahat]

MY challenge was to write this ode
To a POET in a similar mode
As that which WAS his unique style,
So I hope this ONE will make you smile;
The link below is GOOD to show it—
George Herbert was one gifted POET!

http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/herbert/colossians.htm

[poetinahat]

Your words, they lift,
give my wounded soul
its butterfly wings --
Delicate reminders of flight
not taken.
Your poetry -- words released
like so many monarchs
to the waiting winds,
Love and seas abound
inside their living light,
swirl before me
with the beauty of birds,
unlock the tremulous night.
Do not take from me
the lilting music
of your glorious words,
for it is in my darkest hour
that your words, your laughter,
your seas and love
open me, lift me higher,
render me capable
of the flight I crave.
Do not take from me your words.


http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/your-laughter/

[poetinahat]

For Anne born November 9, 1928 died October 4, 1974

Dead four years before I knew
your work, stark images burned raw with power.
You claimed death before it's chill hand claimed you.
Fear drove it. Still, you chose the sad hour.

Now I read your words. I understand
madness, though not as well as you dark girl,
and swing myself in and out so my hand
cannot touch: gray blanks approach and swirl.

Anne, how are the stones in that far land?
Does the wind beat against your cursing spirit?
Are you alone? What torments you where you stand?
Was it all you dreamed, this visit?

And what of your death? Was it just a lie
to beat your life? Or was it some truth,
bent misshapen by the drugs? Were you high
as you passed all of this on to youth?

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15298

[poetinahat]

A response to A Woman’s Shortcomings by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

the metre and rhyme
shall fall, I fear
I idly watch it
scatter,
‘tis a delicate reason
that placed it there -
no matter.

I follow her words
across the page, where
eyelids rise and
fall,
there men shall weep
and she shall seek
the truth -
a feeble measure.

she is love
and I am she
and servitude
spits up fire -
she boasts of strength
few can attain,
but the truth’s
a feeble measure.

now speak of love
sweet heady love
masquerading
behind a smile
for silence hides
a thousand sins
‘tween the lines
there is no guile.

sweet eyelids rise
and gently fall,
- designed to catch a lover,
and men shall seek
and you shall weep
‘tis a small and
feeble measure.

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-woman-s-shortcomings/

[poetinahat]

One poem
Two poem
Read poem
Blue poem

Black poem
Blue poem
Old poem
New poem

This one has a little star.
Say! What a lot of
Poems there are.

Some are read.
And some are blue.
Some are old.
And some are new.

Some are sad.
And some are glad.
And some are very, very bad.

But I like Seuss
And this is why:
He makes me laugh
Instead of cry.

With Seuss I eat green eggs and ham
With someone nicknamed ‘Sam-I-Am;’
And while my mom goes out to shop
I’ll play a game of Hop on Pop.
And then I might just go out back
And play a game called Ring the Gak.
Then maybe it will start to rain,
And Cat in the Hat will come again.
And though it’s wet and it’s not sunny,
We’ll have lots of fun that’s funny.
He’ll show me some tricks ‘til that fish starts to shout,
“He should not be here when your mother is out!”
Then he’ll balance that fish, and a cake, and some balls
'Til everything wibbles and wobbles and falls.
Thing One and Thing Two will fly kites in the hall,
Making messes my mom wouldn’t care for at all!
Then after we clean up the last little spill
We’ll all call on Horton who lives in Who-ville,
Where a person’s a person no matter how small—
Their town was once saved by the smallest of all!
And after he hatches his egg we’ll head back
To our home riding high on the back of that Gak.
My mom will be back from her shopping and say,
“It’s time for bed, dear; now how was your day?”
And then in the shower, all soapy I’ll sing
With a musical character someone named ‘Ying.’
All clean and sung out, I’ll hop in a bed
Too short for that long-legged, big-footed Ned…

Yes, Seuss is a poet who’s never a bore,
And reading his poetry’s never a chore,
(Except when you’ve read it ten times in one night,
By the beam of a flickering, faulty flashlight).
So Seuss I salute you, you’re a master of rhyme,
And a lover of children and fun for all time!

http://www.seuss.org/seuss/mr.grinch.html

[poetinahat]

King Alfred sat dejected in a shed,
exhausted following his sixth defeat,
and contemplated boldness or retreat.
He watched a spider drop from rafter bed
to spin a web. Alas, that slender thread
would not stay fixed. The king, from his straw seat,
observed six failures, till one last repeat
stuck fast. He rose; fought on; his foes soon fled.

How often had I sought to understand
John Milton's verse. Not seven times, but more.
Impossible, I thought. His words are grand
and much too deep. Dull senses underscored
my blinded mind. At last, my magic wand—
persistence—nudged a bit that learned door.

http://www.uoregon.edu/~rbear/lost/lost.html (http://www.uoregon.edu/%7Erbear/lost/lost.html)