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Politician - Parody after Stephen SPENDER - Airman

Politician

He will watch the poll with no indifferent eye,
most pitifully, -
not on those voters who once cheered him, now
will strain his brow.
Weapons men use, mud-slinging, smear, tapped telephone,
all these he’s known.

This aristocrat, superb, until instinct
with death close-linked,
had faced the amorphous crowd, almost had won
war on the sun, ...
til now, ... like Icarus mid-ocean drowned,
his hopes unfound.

[c] Jonathan Robin parody written 7 August 1991 after Stephen SPENDER 1909_1995 - Airman

Airman

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Not Fitting In Despite All Those Years

sometimes you envy
the monk in maroon peacefully
crossing the street
somewhere in Ho Chi Minh

or even an earthen bowl half-filled with water
with a jasmine flower floating
upon a very still world

you like to take the brush and some water colors
to paint all these

but it is a little crowded world you have there
there is simply no time for wasting
it's a fast paced lifestyle

the lifelessness of the to and fro
the unstoppable flow
trying to accomplish almost everything
without meaning.

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unable To Sleep

didn't sleep well last night
I didn't dream last night
Losing all the battles
Losing all my fight

I didn't sleep well last night
Barely closed my eyes
tossed and turned and paced
until sunrise

I didn't dream last night
Any time I tried
I cried inside
and wanted to run and hide

I didn't sleep well last night
My world seems confused
Like a dead-end in a maze
like an ocean without a sky

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poem by James T. Adair
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I Admire Those Brave

I admire those brave,
And unafraid of their own shadows.

I admire those,
Whose lives have been enhanced...
By the act of taking chances.

I respect those who anticipate,
Their tomorrows with expectations.
And not spending a moment drifting,
Into a yesterday for a purpose to waste.

I admire the ones who inspire.
And they always seem to be...
Those recovering from despair.
And doing that successfully.

I admire those brave,
And unafraid of their own shadows.
The ones able to cover their bruises well.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Old Familiar Faces

I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions,
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I have been laughing, I have been carousing,
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I loved a Love once, fairest among women:
Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man:
Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;
Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.

Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood,
Earth seem'd a desert I was bound to traverse,
Seeking to find the old familiar faces.

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poem by Charles Lamb
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Homeward Bound

The elephants were homeward bound
And walked as in a dream,
As if their peace were newly-found,
Content to be a team...
Left-right, left-right, they marched as one,
Slow motion, gently paced,
Beneath God's precious golden sun
They travelled without haste...

No point in charging dead ahead,
When patience was the key...
For that would merely lead to dread,
With great uncertainty...
The little ones among the herd,
Must be protected still,
Such that no troubles had occurred,
Here's hoping that none will...

Just look at how they live so long,
Till pensioners at best

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poem by Denis Martindale
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Nineteen-Sixty-Five

What a year,
seems lke yesterday,
March 29,1965
is a day not
to forget.

My Wife Diana
and I had went
out to eat that night
awaken to a fire.

it was across
the alley from us
flames 100 feet high
fire trucks, oh so many.

We went back to
bed, but not for
long I'm afraid.

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poem by Jim Foulk
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Song of freedom to

Freedom's father-power strong,
Freedom's mother-wrath and song.
Giant-stout, a youth self-taught,
Soon a giant's work he wrought.
Ever he, full of glee,
Thought and wit and melody,
Mighty, merry, made his way,-
Labor's toil or battle-fray.

Enemies whom none could tell
Lay in wait this foe to fell,
Found him waking all too stark,
Sought his sleeping hours to mark,
Tried their skill, bound him still;
When he wakened, they fared ill.
Glad he forward strode firm-paced,
Full of power, full of haste.

Bare fields blossom 'neath his feet,
Commerce swells about his seat,

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poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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A March Day in London

The east wind blows in the street to-day;
The sky is blue, yet the town looks grey.
'Tis the wind of ice, the wind of fire,
Of cold despair and of hot desire,
Which chills the flesh to aches and pains,
And sends a fever through all the veins.

From end to end, with aimless feet,
All day long have I paced the street.
My limbs are weary, but in my breast
Stirs the goad of a mad unrest.
I would give anything to stay
The little wheel that turns in my brain;
The little wheel that turns all day,
That turns all night with might and main.

What is the thing I fear, and why?
Nay, but the world is all awry--
The wind's in the east, the sun's in the sky.
The gas-lamps gleam in a golden line;

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poem by Amy Levy
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Jessica

I fell in love the other day
And what a day it was!
Across the room I saw her pray
Beneath a golden cross...
When I saw her, I couldn't move,
My heartbeat simply raced...
Then suddenly it seemed to soothe
And felt more gently paced...
It was as if she were the one,
That special one for me...
And just like me, she praised God's Son
Who died at Calvary...
She saw me staring and she smiled,
As if she felt it, too...
How could that be? I was beguiled,
With thoughts like, 'I love you! '
She walked away, I watched her leave
And yet I hardly stirred...
So much in love and hard to breathe...
I couldn't say a word...

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poem by Denis Martindale
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