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Reading The Brothers Grimm To Jenny

Jenny, your mind commands
kingdoms of black and white:
you shoulder the crow on your left,
the snowbird on your right;
for you the cinders part
and let the lentils through,
and noise falls into place
as screech or sweet roo-coo,
while in my own, real, world
gray foxes and gray wolves
bargain eye to eye,
and the amazing dove
takes shelter under the wing
of the raven to keep dry.

Knowing that you must climb,
one day, the ancient tower
where disenchantment binds
the curls of innocence,
that you must live with power

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poem by Lisel Mueller
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Caves Of Dharma

Out from the caves
Kelp shores in the moon
We wait
Crying like falling stars
Hollow caves filled with time
Sisters with courage
Sisters wanting open fields
We are not going back
Bold as golden lions

Recovered from the incest
Severed from the chauvinism
She smiles again like azaleas
Eastern lanterns bring free winds
Out of the grip of gargoyles
Out of cold stone religion
The God of the cross reaches
Personal relationships replace ritual
Her dog runs along the sea

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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Motherhood

She sat on a shelf,
her breasts two bellies
on her poked-out belly,
on which the navel looked
like a sucked-in mouth—
her knees bent and apart,
her long left arm raised,
with the large hand knuckled
to a bar in the ceiling—
her right hand clamping
the skinny infant to her chest—
its round, pale, new,
soft muzzle hunting
in the brown hair for a nipple,
its splayed, tiny hand picking
at her naked, dirty ear.
Twisting its little neck,
with tortured, ecstatic eyes
the size of lentils, it looked
into her severe, close-set,

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poem by May Swenson
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Playing A Host For You

Last night I had a sweet dream, a dream of all times,
It lasted for hundreds of seconds or as I would like to believe
That it was lingering like the moon even after the dawn.
My dream still floats on mind like a feather.
Here it is… MY DREAM AS IT IS TOLD TO YOU.

In the dream dear friends, you may know for a change
I played the role of a very shy host with a small smile
And all of you my poet friends, were my guests from far off lands
Or most of you perhaps came from the lands beyond our hills.
I had not invited all of you, but they too came, A BIG 'THANK YOU'.

I made dishes of no known lands for you.
The powder of wheat and barley I used,
I mixed them with chilly, ginger and salt.
I cut for you bitter gourd, lentils and cabbage
And cooked my mix till you all came!

No dates, no eggs; nor their parents
No salmon; nor sardine too,

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poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Kitchen Poem

An Elegy for Tristan Tzara

In the hungry kitchen
The dog sings for its dinner.
The housewife is writing her poem
On top of the frigidaire
Something like this:

    'Hear in the kitchen
    The crows fly home
    Into the red-robed trees
    That walk across the sky.

    Hear under the floor
    The three fountains rising and
    Trickling through the bridge
    Into the sea of poems.'

In the kitchen the housemother
Pours soup for her thousand children

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poem by Francis Scarfe
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Pictures From Theocritus

FROM IDYL I.

Goat-herd, how sweet above the lucid spring
The high pines wave with breezy murmuring!
So sweet thy song, whose music might succeed
To the wild melodies of Pan's own reed.

THYRSIS.

More sweet thy pipe's enchanting melody
Than streams that fall from broken rocks on high.
Say, by the nymphs, that guard the sacred scene,
Where lowly tamarisks shade these hillocks green,
At noontide shall we lie?
No; for o'erwearied with the forest chase,
Pan, the great hunter god, sleeps in this place.
Beneath the branching elm, while thy sad verse,
O Thyrsis! Daphnis' sorrows shall rehearse,
Fronting the wood-nymph's solitary seat,
Whose fountains flash amid the dark retreat;

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poem by William Lisle Bowles
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September on Jessore Road

Millions of babies watching the skies
Bellies swollen, with big round eyes
On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts
Noplace to shit but sand channel ruts

Millions of fathers in rain
Millions of mothers in pain
Millions of brothers in woe
Millions of sisters nowhere to go

One Million aunts are dying for bread
One Million uncles lamenting the dead
Grandfather millions homeless and sad
Grandmother millions silently mad

Millions of daughters walk in the mud
Millions of children wash in the flood
A Million girls vomit & groan
Millions of families hopeless alone

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poem by Allen Ginsberg
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Hudson's Last Voyage

June 22, 1611

THE SHALLOP ON HUDSON BAY

One sail in sight upon the lonely sea
And only one, God knows! For never ship
But mine broke through the icy gates that guard
These waters, greater grown than any since
We left the shores of England. We were first,
My men, to battle in between the bergs
And floes to these wide waves. This gulf is mine;
I name it! and that flying sail is mine!
And there, hull-down below that flying sail,
The ship that staggers home is mine, mine, mine!
My ship Discoverie!
The sullen dogs
Of mutineers, the bitches' whelps that snatched
Their food and bit the hand that nourished them,
Have stolen her. You ingrate Henry Greene,
I picked you from the gutter of Houndsditch,

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poem by Henry Van Dyke
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If you eat someone's cake, you must also eat his lentils.

Dutch proverbs
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Whether it rains or stops raining, the lentils have two eyes.

Ethiopian proverbs
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