“June Light” by Richard Wilbur

 

Your voice, with clear location of June days,
Called me outside the window.  You were there,
Light yet composed, as in the just soft stare
Of uncontested summer all things raise
Plainly their seeming into seamless air.

Then your love looked as simple and entire
As that picked pear you tossed me, and your face
As legible as pearskin’s fleck and trace,
Which promise always wine, by mottled fire
More fatal fleshed than ever human grace.

And your gay gift—Oh when I saw it fall
Into my hands, through all that naïve light,
It seemed as blessed with truth and new delight
As must have been the first great gift of all.

A child that is loved; a child that isn't loved

 

Children with dead horse

A child that is loved embraces the world, 

For the child that isn't loved, the world is a foreign place.

A child that is loved is happy, for them the world is a loving place;

A child that isn't loved is always questioning why they weren't loved.

A child that is loved is unselfconscious;

A child that isn't loved is self conscious in everything they say and do. 

A child that is loved loves the world,

A child that isn't loved doesn't feel they belong in this world.

Revised, 25-26/05/2024

"the measure of a man . . ."

 

the measure of a man

are in his acts

of generosity, kindness,

and compassion--no other

measure exists, not accolades,

not wealth, not achievements;

only in what kindness

a man or woman

shows fellow humans,

animals, and the natural

world do we measure 

the value and meaning

of a person's life.

The bedrock, the permanent, is love

 

Sidewalk drawing, May 2016

The stratified rock of time, layer on layer of experience, weddings and funerals, children and family, the bedrock, the permanent, was always love. The effort was for love and an expression of love, as mysterious as gravity, as electricity, as a flock of birds crossing the sky as one entity, mysterious and taken for granted; the foundation of existence was always love. Not birth or life or death or suffering, but love; we know this with age, with advancing years; the permanent is not money or possessions, it is not all the other stuff of life; it is one thing only, consistent and constant, the bedrock, the permanent, is love.

"Love Minus Zero/No Limit" by Bob Dylan

 

My love she speaks like silence,
Without ideals or violence,
She doesn't have to say she's faithful,
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire.
People carry roses,
Make promises by the hours,
My love she laughs like the flowers,
Valentines can't buy her.

In the dime stores and bus stations,
People talk of situations,
Read books, repeat quotations,
Draw conclusions on the wall.
Some speak of the future,
My love she speaks softly,
She knows there's no success like failure
And that failure's no success at all.

The cloak and dagger dangles,
Madams light the candles.
In ceremonies of the horsemen,
Even the pawn must hold a grudge.
Statues made of match sticks,
Crumble into one another,
My love winks, she does not bother,
She knows too much to argue or to judge.

The bridge at midnight trembles,
The country doctor rambles,
Bankers' nieces seek perfection,
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring.
The wind howls like a hammer,
The night blows cold and rainy,
My love she's like some raven
At my window with a broken wing.

Note: "Love Minus Zero/No Limit", written by Bob Dylan and recorded on his 1965 album, "Bringing it all Back Home".   

Deletions from an Introduction for a Selected Poems (2)

 

Deleted:

Poems, no matter how dark their subject matter, are always an affirmation of life.1.  What can be seen in the dark no matter how dark it is? What light will we follow when it is most dark? It took me many years to know what is obvious to many people; the light that is always present, even in the darkness, is the goodness of life, it is love. That light is love.

1. Because the act of creating something is, in itself, an affirmation of life.