Poems Not Written
Page Menu: Click the links in the table below to go to each poem.
Prologue
Any collection of poems is always a beginning and hopefully never an ending. The poet never writes the last poem, much as the singer never sings the last song, or the racer races the last race, or the skier makes the last run for the day or for a lifetime. Every new effort is a new beginning to the next beginning. Though life is terminal, we believe in our humanity’s infinite optimism that we shall blessed with one more opportunity.
The chorus of a song I wrote goes like this:
I’ll sing my last song but not today
My dreams are still big
I will sing one more gig
There is one final thing I’ll say
I’ll sing my last song but not today
As long as I breathe
One more song’s what I need
I’ll sing my last song
I’ll sing my song my way
The most accomplished and successful of singers understands the reality of notes that can no longer be achieved without an effort that is now eluded, or the slight sound of sandpaper in a falsetto. In the spirit of the singer, there is no intention for any poet to write the last poem. There are many poems that “have not made the cut” for this collection for reasons too obscure and in some cases too personal to reveal. If this collection were a book, the book cannot be recalled to add a few more pages or an additional vision of thoughts about the world. However, a website provides rather flexible download technology for enhancement. There should be the no temptation to add an occasional poem, but a more deliberate effort to do a substantial download to this section may occur when “there is something of significance to say.”
Therefore, to begin that future effort, following is the first poem in the next group of “unwritten poems,” but certainly not my last song, oops, my last poem.
Friendship
Friends are bounded and bonded together
With a variety of loosely and tightly coupled bindings
Some friendships are hinged and
Swing into and out of the gates of each other’s lives
Other friendships are tongued and grooved
As from some finely crafted joint by a master craftsman
Others friendships are super glued in some inseparable
Death hold and embrace
And still other friendships flow like a river
Or a river within a river
Seeking the sea and each other in harmony.
These variants and alternatives for friendships are
Dependable but more or less each uniquely achieved
The required and unique approach
In some more or less symbiotic journey
By mutual choice
Traveling another of the multitude of life’s journeys.
Friendships are cut out of a variety of fabrics
To make one seamless garment
Binding the foundation of the alliance.
Whether the friendship is hinged or tongue and grooved
Or super glued or flows river-like
It is part of our humanity
To maintain the oneness and twoness of the bond
Together and yet apart
A Poem About a Poem
It was Christmas shopping time
And as usual I shopped steadfastly
To procure at least two shopping bags full of “stuff”
As is my custom for each Christmas
Finding stuff that she likes and enjoys
Not to replace any real necessities
But the kind of random and ubiquitous and pervasive stuff
That collectively becomes one Christmas gift
Of two shopping bags collected stuff
While meandering through many store aisles aimlessly
But with some attentive purpose.
In Target and a few Dollar stores and the omnipresent Walmart
Looking for specifics such as a package of post-its
And impetuously picking stuff off the shelves
Like two cans of Busch beans
Very special imported British cookies
That must be sweet and preferably chocolate
A toothbrush and puzzle books
Coloring penicils and get-well cards
And anything with the color purple
Like a miniature purple mirror
And so much more
And eventually after several shopping excursions
There was a significant bulge in
The two shopping bags indicating they are full
Of enough stuff
That’s how the happenchance of the effort occurs
Nothing wrapped and the disconnected paraphernalia of gifts
Unwittingly making sense of the potpourri of stuff.
When thinking the deed was done
A trip to Lowes reveals
A purple plant (Get it! Purple!) with violet like buds
Delightfully in the early stages of blooming
Not knowing the name of the plant
The label revealed it was a viola
And later in that day I wrote this following poem
Attaching it to the purple viola
And including it with all the other stuff.
Viola and Viola
This poem is about a viola and a viola
They are two names that are the same
But designate two things that are so different
Though sharing the same identical name
The viola makes lovely music to warm our souls and hearts
A viola is an instrument that makes a lush and lovely sound
The viola suckles the sunshine with blooms and brings us joy
The viola is a purple flower that lives in a pot or in the ground
Let’s hope the earth shall spin many more endless times
And the world is a better and safer and loving place
When the viola and the viola each in their own way
Bring joy and happiness and delight to every face.
I could have written a poem about the Busch Beans
Or the purple mirror or the tooth brush
The most ambitious of poets would agree
It is creatively possible and feasible
To write a poem about anything
But then again
Let’s leave that for another Christmas
When the ritual repeats
To shop for two shopping bags of “stuff.”
The Next Poem
The next poem that has not been written, will inhabit this spot. Hopefully, some day! Possibly soon!