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clmathew Apr 2021
~Jane Kenyon lived and wrote poems from 1947 to 1995.

Jane Kenyon
written April 17th, 2021

I want to ask her
so many questions,
like why she chose
to put that one
word
alone on that line.

But she has gone
where I can not ask
so I will have to find my answers
in the spaces between her words
in the pauses at the ends of lines
and in the silences between her stanzas.
2 of my favorite poems by Jane Kenyon. I could post so many!
__________
Afternoon In The House [1978]
by Jane Kenyon

It’s quiet here. The cats​
sprawl, each​
in a favored place.
The geranium leans this way​
to see if I’m writing about her:​
head all petals, brown​
stalks, and those green fans.
So you see, I am writing about you.  

I turn on the radio. Wrong.
Let’s not have any noise
in this room, except
the sound of a voice reading a poem.
The cats request
The Meadow Mouse, by Theodore Roethke.  

The house settles down on its haunches​
for a doze.
I know you are with me, plants,​
and cats—and even so, I’m frightened,​
sitting in the middle of perfect​
possibility.

__________
Peonies At Dusk [1993]
by Jane Kenyon

White peonies blooming along the porch​
send out light
while the rest of the yard grows dim.  

Outrageous flowers as big as human​
heads! They’re staggered​
by their own luxuriance: I had​
to prop them up with stakes and twine.  

The moist air intensifies their scent,​
and the moon moves around the barn​
to find out what it’s coming from.  

In the darkening June evening​
I draw a blossom near, and bending close​
search it as a woman searches​
a loved one’s face.
clmathew Apr 2021
With wings made strong
written April 15th, 2021

I sit in the back
while you sit in the front
the favored seat
next to your father

you so icy and cold
he could have reached out
and touched your body
but not your soul

which was flying out over
the fields we drove by
desperately straining
to get as far away as possible
with wings made strong

before having to return
to this body of yours
to walk down halls
filled with students and teachers
who did not see

you or the others
with wings made strong.

Today do you still
fly out over the fields
wondering if
you will ever
take residence in
this body of yours.
I want to be a better poet. I think about stanzas and line breaks. Everything I do is irregular.
clmathew Apr 2021
Depression sales into bay
written April 5th, 2021

Depression sales into the bay
our little town is built on
it is a frequent but unwelcome visitor
ominous, malevolent and stifling

Often it arrives in the night
creeping in on panther's toe pads
its sails blocking out the sun

Plants and people sit
in suspended animation
trying to carry on

Some boldly
give depression the finger
as they walk by

While others withdraw
to the sanitarium
dishes are left undone
and children run wild in the streets

Scientists are researching a vaccine
the librarian searches in books
soldiers plan attacks (which fail)
the priest prays and does exorcisms
the green witch burns toy ships in effigy
all hoping to find the answer

Until that day
we fight
we submit
we carry on
waiting
for depression
to sale out of
our petty little bay.
clmathew Apr 2021
Not a haiku
written October 18th, 2020

crisp fall leaves
crunch under foot
moss roses furl open
___
Crisp fall leaves
crunch under my feet
giving their final sacrifice

while moss roses tightly clenched
wait for the sun
to unfurl their beauty for the day
Just playing with words and images from my walk that day. I love to read haiku and would like to try writing some sometime. I tend to go on and on, and like the focus that haiku brings.
clmathew Apr 2021
What can I share?
written March 29th, 2021

I talk to people
   who have done so much
   and traveled so far

I wonder what do I have
   to share with the world
   that is unique and worth sharing?

I can share the view
   outside my window
   of old trees growing wild

I can share the sound
   of my pen scratching
   across the paper

I can share the blue sky
   now always shining
   in this poem

I can share a welcoming silence
   that wraps itself around you
   healing protecting and comforting

I can share coolness in the heat of summer
   warmth from my flannel quilt in winter
   and a moment of home when you feel bereft

I can share the depth of my heart
   the world seen through my eyes
   the words that only I can write.
I hate figuring out titles sometimes.
clmathew Apr 2021
We smile and nod
written March 30th, 2021

I bring you the book
the one I have read
every day of my life

you translate it into Aramaic
then back into English
and say it is very nice.
_____

I cook for you
the food that sustains me
and offer to share it with you

you discard the food
and eat the bowl
you seem to enjoy it?
_____

I take you out
for a walk in the yard
that is my life

you stare the whole time
at the grave I am trying
to walk away from.
______

I offer to you
in my cupped hands
the flame that is my love

you put the fire out
and say thank goodness
that crisis has been averted.
______

We sit beside each other
and smile and nod
trying to decide
if this is enough.
A few years ago there was a pretty funny tweet about a song that had been translated into Aramaic and then back into English. The end result was fairly formal and elegant, which was completely different from the original song, though the two versions essentially said the same thing.
clmathew Apr 2021
Pretty words - pretty poems
written April 3rd, 2021

I read looking for the pretty
words - pretty poems -  the
bright sparkling counterpoint to
the dark that so often resides
in me.

The bold descriptions
of every color under the sun
the pretty words - pretty
poems - the light I long for
in me.

Some days the search
leaves me frozen and mute
as I try to find the pretty
words - pretty poems
in me.
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