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Poetry Pages


Here are two poems I just got from Robin Upton. He writes that:
If you write poems, I say keep writing and keep expressing yourself. Sometimes I suddenly get an urge to write one, other times a 'poemy' mood comes over me gradually (sometimes over days or even weeks) and I start writing. They are generally about topics I am beginning to understand and that I find difficult to express in other ways. Here are one or two. ...
There is more poetry of mine at
and if you're interested.

On Poverty - 22 Feb 2000

Who can say "This young mother is needy"?
For if her love is thick enough,
What does it matter that her milk is thin?
Who can say "Here is a poor man"?
For a beggar wears shoes
That will never wear out.
Who can say even so much as
"I am proud", or
"I am humble"?
There are some words which can never be said,
More still which should never have been said,
But even more which need to be said
For the world is full of the starving rich
Who feed themselves on bread alone.

On Proving That God is Dead (1998)

One man said "God is dead. I can prove that might is right."
Another "Prove that black is black and white is white."
One man sought beauty in a young woman's body.
Another found it in the lines of an old woman's face.
One man saw some lines on a page.
Another stopped and read these words.
No one proved that this is a poem.
Here are a joyous, tumultuous one for spring,
and one which cries out for the future of our world,
which she calls Chironic - both marvelous poems from Laurie Corzett,
whose website can be viewed at
Spring Medley
Air clear as a free-running stream
tumbling over country rocks and minty greenery
Clear soft air of early spring
Breathing satsang, reeling eternity,
While running 'cross the straight-lined highway
-- shouting
"Hey sky, embrace me!" shouting
I embrace the air and call it Love.
I love you, love you, love you, love you
Form, Words, Action
I in motion
I in tumbling, stumbling, crazy image
over 'n' over
love you, love you, love you, love you
Capture the essence for an almost noninstant
Capture the image of groping, grabbing, grasping
gazing heartfelt on release, but
love you, love you, love you, love you
insane, insatiable
cannot touch release of
love you, love you, love you, love you
Smothering in the too pure air.
Hey, Springtime,
Got some time to be wasting
So I tracked a songbird
on a still bare treebranch
and joined it in song.
What wonder the woods bring
I can't contain it.
Thistle and briar weeds
Capture my imagination
Grow wild and tangly
All through my mind.
Chironic* Vision, Part I
The future descends
from the fear-embroidered skies
the vision is of holocaust -- when everybody dies
A new day is dawning, but is it sun or storm?
We have a chance to make our mark
but is it right or wrong?
The military marches
The anti-warriors too
We take our stand in battle
The many and the few
Spinning tales of magic, of wizardry and fate
We want to know just how it ends before it's all too late
We sing our song too late
We right our wrongs too late
We want to know the date
To find a better fate
Can I tell you?
Can I help you to know or understand?
Can I utter the words that will make you see me?
Standing here before you, I want to take your hand
to be swirled up into a magical dancing
to be taken to worlds of beauty entrancing
to give you the will and the wonder to set you free.
Can you see me?
Laurie Corzett
*Chiron was the greatest of the Centaurs in Greek mythology, a healer, skilled in hunting, medicine, music and the art of prophecy. The great Greek physician Esculapios was taught by him, and Jason, Herakles and Achilles were also his pupils. Jason accidentally wounded him with an arrow dipped in the poison of the Hydra, which caused him terrible pain. Being immortal, he could not die, so, to relieve his intense suffering, Zeus finally placed him among the stars in the constellation Sagittarius, where you may see him in the winter night sky. So Chiron symbolizes both prophecy, skill in inspiring others and also great pain..Are we finally ready for Chiron to teach us? MML
Laurie adds: You are invited:
Plase check out
Please join and help to form what we become.
Group birth data:
October 17, 2003
8:52 pm EDT
Boston, MA/www
-or - if you know of anyone you think would be interested, please feel free
to send this invitation on to them.
New from Laurie:
........ REVISIONS..........
Let us contradict the hours
And walk awhile amidst the flowered garden of
Times so bittersweet and true
Their precious etchings scarring as they grew
into your essence.
Breathe deep. Look inside your soul
For pack rat hidden magic tones of
carefree, joyous laughter
To salve old wounds with tender care.
Awakening, a new self-awareness emerges after.
Yes, let your inner chorus sing:
We are the source of anything
we wish to make our mission.
The key is to relax and dream,
Floating down a buoyant stream
we're learning to envision.
Through weary hours of bitter nights
It helps if we can fix our sight
upon the rays of morning.
Time is not the enemy,
But more a growing friendship
we are tentatively forming.
Laurie Corzett -

And here are two poems from dearest Alice Howell:

How wealthy I am
in such a lack
how rich
in the specific of poverty
I have everything this day
but you to share it with
and so it seems I have nothing -
yet, knowing such ever-brimming loss
places me beyond my peers of need
it is like having all of never
into which to set a now.
She was getting old and fat and hopeless
but youth still raged in her
shaking all the slender saplings
of her longing
and their leaves were ripping off
falling away as yellow sighs
into the privacy of her lonely nights.
Who, after all, could kiss Zeus as deeply
as she could in her time
or open to him laughing and rejoicing
until the last flashing moments of love
when the world sundered and burst into glory
and she, too, lay helpless and fruitful
under his shining eyes?
But Zeus had always been fickle
and had fertility on the brain
off busy stoking the fires in the
loins of men
or making a fool of himself
according to gossip
clowning as a bull, or a swan, or a shower of gold
all for some strumpeting daughters of earth.
And at his age!
What source was there left to appeal to?
wives know too much, thought Hera,
ever to make gods of their husbands.
She turned resentfully into the laundromat
and its unfriendly neon lights
and pushed with her bursting hips
a young girl bodily away from the washing machine.
Age before beauty!
Then she dumped all her jealous sheets
and his flaming underwear
into the swashing soapsuds
and stood by glaring, mesmerized,
through the dark glass of time
by the tumbling cosmic bubbles
of the universe
hoping against expectation
that this time
they would come out fresh and clean.
And one from my friend Phoebe Wray: 
I met you in the dark.
No, YOU were in the dark;
I was searching for the light.
I was my Self that day.
And the sun was shining.
Wasn't it? I thought so.
Oh Self! I said, that day
you say was dark and I insist
the sun was shining
golden in the autumn air,
You damn disgusting thing.
I will never again ask you
to step aside. Let's have it out:
here and now.
Don't YOU understand?
Don't try to trick me;
don't try to say "There,
there, it is all mind-stuff
and mind-games."
It isn't.
I want to love you.
Aha! You blinked first!
Was that so hard?
I wept.
I thought the tears might be endless.
Not so. They stopped. Dried up.
And there you stood, Self,
washed and glistening
with the salt of my anguish,
Phoebe Wray
(copyright 2001)
Click here for a poem written by me (MML) on Glastonbury Tor
on the anniversary of VE Day in 1995.
Here's a lovely one that came to me out of the blue sometime in 2002 from someone on behalf of David Alger. It has taken me these three years to figure out what happened to him! Better late than never! David became a victim of the World Trade Center bombing on September 11th, 2001. He was 57 years of age. See below for a brief bio and many tributes to him and his work on behalf of humanity.
Glass Of Faith
i have nothing but faith inside
my body
meeting with my soul
from head to
keeps me strong
rolling far
faith is
what i

David Alger

Copyright ©2002 David Alger
Click here to read David Alger's Obit from the New York Times.
After 9/11
Now you know the worst
we humans have to know
about ourselves, and I am sorry,
for I know that you will be afraid.
To those of our bodies given
without pity to be burned, I know
there is no answer
but loving one another,
even our enemies, and this is hard.
But remember:
when a man of war becomes a man of peace,
he gives a light, divine
though it is also human.
When a man of peace is killed
by a man of war, he gives a light.
You do not have to walk in darkness.
If you will have the courage for love,
you may walk in light. It will be
the light of those who have suffered
for peace. It will be
your light.
-- Wendell Berry



They have taken away my Lord!
The muezzin sounds on the sunlit air -
Birds twitter on the soughing branches -
Joseph's kindly presence lingers still
in the garden,
But the tomb is empty, once again.
He is not there!
The heart lurches, contracts,
The pain - the loss - once again
Clutches at the inmost depth of my being.
The great stone has been rolled aside
And the stony cradle lies empty
Where they had laid him
Swaddled in linen as so long ago
When I held him at my breast -
Now so still,
His long, bloodied limbs like clay,
Straightened, tenderly wrapped,
The smooth white brow
Now clotted with dark gouts,
The tender flesh so cruelly pierced -
The joy spreads only gradually -
It comes on the in-breath
As the meaning begins only slowly
To work its perennial alchemy
In the sodden mass of the grieving,
Leavening, raising, lightening the heaviness
and the dark.
Sun warms the golden stone.
The darkness of the doorway beckons,
Draws me in with caught breath
And tiptoeing exultation.
I now can dare to come closer -
Yes! O yes. He is truly gone!
Christos voschryes! Alleluiah!
Only the shadow of his presence remains
Like a sweet odor
Lingering inside.
The bells in churches beyond the wall
Begin their tumult.
Shafts of golden sunlight
Slant downward through the trees.
It is finished!
It is over!
Deo gratias -
Thanks be to God.
MML December, 1987.
Global Warming
Fields alive with diamond stars
glitter, incandescent, reflected in sunlight;
Rocks, their harshnesses softened by
flowing, fluorescent ice-meringues
line the roadways like petits fours for giants;
Dazzling sun tempts the trees to unseasonal budding;
Spring fever is in the February air.
How can I love this day so much
While my heart is whispering that it is wrong? 
MML, February '02
A War On Terrorism
Sitting on my front stoop,
Looking at the oil tankers across the street,
I stop and shiver.
Do I start packing now?
Do I fortify my basement?
Gather supplies?
Like what . . . food and water?
Batteries? Guns? Gas masks?
How about a spacesuit for each of us,
And maybe a rocket,
For a quick get-away?
Then I stop again and take a deep breath.
Ah . . . the polluted air from the Port of Albany
Fills my lungs and my consciousness with reality.
Maybe I can start by lightening my load.
Live more simply.
Gather flowers.
Listen to my neighbors.
Stay close to those I love . . .
And hope -
Always hope!
With love from Deb Cavanaugh 9/19/01


Here's one from my darling Angela:
Forgiven it burns
in my head and hand
I feel alone
Did I do it to myself,
a force so strong
sometimes I hate to be around
Forgive me for my hatred.
it is my only protection
without it my vulnerability
spins a web of anxiety
am i strong enough
for this world
Thirteen Ways of Looking at Roads
(mostly glimpses of Ashfield's roads -
with a nod to Wallace Stevens)
1. Sudden uphill spurt
....Brings my ailing car stuttering
... Into tall, dark woods;
... My breath catches.
2. .The standing she-bear
... Across the yellow meadow
... Finally lumbers down and away
... As I brake onto the road's wide shoulder.
3. Aching heart-colors meeting overhead
... Transform the roadway
... Into a leafy autumn cathedral above me;
... Their unplanned consolation hurts.
4. A touring car full of shouting children;
... A black roadside rock bisected
... By a long and twisted snake of white quartz
... Tells us we are nearly there. Hallelujah!
5. You'd never know
... Unless you'd been there
... What losing so many of the tall maples
... Along our main street
... Did to the wholeness of our town.
6. Highway 9 in autumn
... Creates a hazard to driving safety
... The shag carpet in rainbow colors
... That covers the hills we pass through
... Dazzles the eye, distracts the mind,
... Fills the heart.
7. Sheen of silver sunlight on dark blue water
... As I pass so quickly, so quickly -
... Scent of pond water, coolness of moving air,
... Then back again to hot asphalt
... And my need to hurry on.
8. Coming over the rise presents me
... With a panorama of dark river,
... A clump of tall buildings, a snarl of roadways,
... Bordered by the descent to a bridge
... That beckons my reluctant heart
... To return to the city place I tried to leave behind
... Along with the pain.
9. Dirt roads are the best roads of all! -
... But not in the winter!
10. The rattle of washboard
... ,Still lives deep in my sitting bones -
... , Bones that contacted their sharpened ridges
... ,.As we drove them in the long ago
... , Of unpaved summer Dakota highways.
11. Coming round a bend,
... , The mingled fragrance of the ocean
... , Cancels decades of living without it,
... , And I am reborn in its salty, fishy, seaweedy ambiance.
12. The urges to see again
... , The haunts of one's past
... , Do not create the longed-for satisfaction
... , Unless the roads that lead there
... , Still serve as alchemical transformers.
13. Home road,
... , Away road,
... , Road upward,
... , Road downward,
... , Road straight,
... , Road curving,
... , Ah, roads!
..............................MML October, 00
Click here for another one of mine
And here's one I got online recently from "Stargirl":











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