Poems

No longer throne of a goddess to whom we pray,
no longer the bubble house of childhood’s
tumbling Mother Goose man,

The emphatic moon ascends–
the brilliant challenger of rocket experts,
the white hope of communications men.

Some I love who are dead
were watchers of the moon and knew its lore;
planted seeds, trimmed their hair,

Pierced their ears for gold hoop earrings
as it waxed or waned.
It shines tonight upon their graves.

And burned in the garden of Gethsemane,
its light made holy by the dazzling tears
with which it mingled.

And spread its radiance on the exile’s path
of Him who was The Glorious One,
its light made holy by His holiness.

Already a mooted goal and tomorrow perhaps
an arms base, a livid sector,
the full moon dominates the dark.

This poem was submitted by Robert Hayden.

Leaves of fiery scarlet
reflect a crisp sun

rustle in a healthy mass
of autumn laughter

house an anarchy of crows
that screech at winters approach

until bare branches
balance snow

on slender
outstretched arms .

This poem was submitted by Judith Pordon.

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean–
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down–
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is is you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?

This poem was submitted by Mary Oliver.

The trees there leaves
The grass and all our greens
This is where real beauty ends and begins
In the beauty of nature
There is nothing like the smell of flowers
There is nothing like the smell of the sea
And every thing is part of nature even me
The color of the snow the brightest stars
The longest fields and the greenest hills
The freshest breezes and puddles beneath your feet
The wetness of the ground and the slushy sleet
This is the beauty of nature
The birth of a lamb the birth of a cow
This is the most beauty and there is no question why or how
The baby birds in the nest
The sweetest tunes they sing are simply the best
This is the beauty of nature

By: Stephanie Mcgrath

I don’t think there’s a season
As exciting as in the fall
Drastic changes are taking place
As nature makes its call

The air seems fresher, don’t you think?
As it turns so sharp and cool
And in the mornings you may notice
A bit of ice on the children’s pool

Leaves are turning brilliant colors
The entire landscape is new
Like Mother Nature is practicing
With her water colors just for you

Oh, how I love this time of year
As nature takes time and rearranges
It’s like a new beginning
So let’s enjoy the fresh fall changes!

By: Marilyn Lott