Sunday, July 28, 2019

Poem From & to An Kim 1977




A Poem from An Kim & A Poem for An Kim,  circa 1977

epistle to st. james

the largo from xerxes I
has been performed
again, admirably, by symphony
where are those ducks?

water ducklings meet
themselves crossing
a john hancock sky

don’t let yr heart
crouched close to the liver
(as we know) lose heart.

don’t forget you are made
a little lower than
angels

not my words, kid
but the movies
bought the book.

and probable.  don’t forget the ducks
wh had no babies
this summer anywhere in the green.

remember the park.
remember the largo caught
on the time zone radio

before your next final
exam.  you have to do
something else now.

keep both oars
in the water.  hate your fingers
for a few months.
and adore your hands.
                                                                             --An Kim


Poem of the Waxing Summer
                 
                                for An Kim

We speak of nacre nights
w/moon no higher than the nape of the neck
the city imposed upon herself
violent water in closed jar

the outer  hovelling of fire
warmth positing herself
complete, upon a shelf
a gold & blue globe

                                                I am a bellows
full with blowing
winds that ne'er crept across the floor
to flute the child’s naked brown lashes

the busting of vessels
& the clothing of hawks
the shatter of her laugh
against wood aimlessly light

the sky pale & taunt
moves a blue persimmon.
                                                                jmf-w  30 mar 77


Thursday, July 25, 2019

No Longer Here

"No!" watercolor j.m.frase-white 1973



No Longer Here

Grief festers
Bites at moments unexpected
Aches on the breeze
on a day without wind
Befuddles, rides
on the back
a rodeo of pain,
 longing
                                            Lost

Memory dances
on a day with a gentle airs
Kissing of their presence
their aura fills the room
music of the mind
of the heart
inside closed eyes

Grief is the dream of
mortal wishes for eternity
loss, with hope on the edge
waves rippling on the shore
of consciousness

(With thoughts of John Robert Peters, Jr.
And so many more, this hot stilted July Sunday, the 21st  in 2019 )

 "Farewell"  watercolor, j.m. frase-white 1973

Sunday, July 21, 2019

Not Yellow Brick

A poem, left behind, from last year, a little Sunday School prayer

Mary Cassatt  The Boating Party


Paving the Way

The admonition echoed
in footsteps leading astray
walking through the hell of segregated piety
of the garden, picking  grapes with god
the forbidden fruit just that
needed and heartfelt

Another mother, casting anchor close to home
Assailed her darling doting daughter
With a wind of words, a chanty
“I don’t want to take the wind out of your sails.”

Oh, Hades road was paved
with bloods and colors not like ours
from faraway lands, exotic
or local, convenient right next door
Not hidden in the deep dark woods,
a witch, a wolf
to seduce our basket of goodies

All you/we needed was a nudge,
A hug, affection strong
A simple “I love you”
Admonition seized the day
The devil of the lord
Keeping your angel far, far away

9/5/18, revised 7/20/2019 ©James M. Frase White