Just like that…

woman,stare,wonder,ponder,

“What was, is;
What might have been, might be.
What’s kept. What’s lost. A snap decision.”

– Adrienne Rich, from Later Poems Selected And New


Poem Source: Soaked In Soul. Photograph: “Enigma”; Kenny Sweeney

Mistakes made by the selves we had to be

white,photography,arms crossed

Do you have hope for the future? someone asked Robert Frost, toward the end.

Yes, and even for the past, he replied, that it will turn out to have been all right for what it was, something we can accept, mistakes made by the selves we had to be, not able to be, perhaps, what we wished, or what looking back half the time it seems we could so easily have been, or ought…

The future, yes, and even for the past, that it will become something we can bear.

And I too, and my children, so I hope, will recall as not too heavy the tug of those albatrosses I sadly placed upon their tender necks.

Hope for the past, yes, old Frost, your words provide that courage, and it brings strange peace that itself passes into past, easier to bear because you said it, rather casually, as snow went on falling in Vermont years ago.

~ David Ray, “Thanks, Robert Frost.”

 


David Ray, 82, was born in Sapulpa, Oklahoma. Ray comes from a broken home that was thrown into upheaval when his father left the family by hopping on the back of a watermelon truck headed to California. After his mother’s next failed marriage ended in the suicide of Ray’s stepfather, he and his sister Mary Ellen were placed into foster care—a system that wasn’t kind to young children in the late 1930s and early 1940s. Ray’s classic “Mulberries of Mingo” steeps from memories of he and his sister being thrown out of a foster families home at dinner time – to fend for themselves eating the mulberries from a neighbor’s tree. The years that followed were dark and tragic as he and his sister were separated to face their separate nightmares of abuse. He is a distinguished award winner, and has lectured and read at over 100 Universities in England, Canada and the U.S. Graduating from the University of Chicago, BA, MA. Ray’s poetry varies from short, three to four lines pieces, to longer 30 lines poems. His work is also often autobiographical, providing unique context and insight to scenes of childhood, love, fear, sex, and travel. “Communication is important to him, and he has the courage, working with a genre in which simplicity is suspect, to say plainly what he means.” He and his wife, poet and essayist Judy Ray, live in Tucson, Arizona.

Studs Terkel: David Ray’s poetry has always been radiant even though personal tragedy has suffused it.” [Read more…]

Who’s that spectre slapping lather on my cheeks

shaving-photography-black and white

I step out my steaming shower
and wipe mist from my shaving mirror.

Who’s that spectre slapping lather
on my cheeks with bony fingers?

He’s the Ghost of Present Tense,
although he haunts the past and future.

When he brandishes his razor,
I grin and offer him my throat.

– Richard Cecil


References/Credits:


Blue on Blue

red balloon over Manhattan

Knot by knot I untie myself from the past
And let it rise away from me like a balloon.
What a small thing it becomes.
What a bright tweak at the vanishing point, blue on blue.

~ Charles Wright, closing lines to “Arkansas Traveller,” from The Other Side of the River


Poem Source: Thank you A Poet Reflects. Image: Thank you Dr. Bill Wooten


Skate! Skate! Skate!

snoopy, skating,love,memories,peanuts,Charlie brown,funny,laugh,comic strip


I hope that non-Canadians get this too…


Source: 3eanuts

Now

black and white, portrait, fashion model, model

Most days I cling to a single word.

It is a mild-mannered creature made of thought.

Future, or Past. 

Never the other, obvious word.

Whenever I reach out to touch that one, it scurries away.

—Laura Kasischke, opening lines to “Riddle” from Space, in Chains


Laura Kasischke was awarded the 2011 National Book Critics Circle Award in poetry for Space, In Chains.  She is currently a Professor of English Language at the University of Michigan.  She attended the University of Michigan (MFA 1987) and Columbia University.


Image Source: Wedebrand via Here And Now.  Quote Source: Apoetreflects

I’ll tell you another secret, this one for your own good…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll tell you another secret, this one for your own good.  You may think the past has something to tell you.  You may think that you should listen, should strain to make out its whispers, should bend over backward, stoop down low to hear its voice breathed up from the ground, from the dead places.  You may think there’s something in it for you, something to understand or make sense of.

But I know the truth: I know from the nights of Coldness.  I know the past will drag you backward and down, have you snatching at whispers of wind and the gibberish of trees rubbing together, trying to decipher some code, trying to piece together what was broken.  It’s hopeless.  The past is nothing but a weight.  It will build inside of you like a stone.

Take it from me: If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging at your back and running its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do – the only thing – is run.

~ Becca @ Lost in Time


Related Posts:

%d bloggers like this: