Eleven Stanzas that Strike Like a Chime through the Mind

May 29, 2011

Christina Rossetti

Richard Wilbur

e e cummings

Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.

from Uphill by Christina Rossetti

Let Observation with extensive view,
Survey mankind, from China to Peru:
Reark each anxious toil, each eager strife:
Then say how hope and fear, desire and hate,
O’spread with snares the clouded maze of fate,
Where wavering man, betrayed by venomous pride,
To tread the dreary paths without a guide,
But scarce observed, the knowing and the bold
Fall in the general massacre of gold;
Wide-wasting pest! That rages unconfined,
And crowds with crimes the record of mankind;
For gold his sword the hireling ruffian draws,
For gold the hireling judge distorts the laws;
Wealth heaped on wealth, not truth nor safety buys,
The Dangers Gather as the Treasures rise

from The Vanity of Human Wishes (The Tenth Satire of Juvenal Imitated) by Samuel Johnson

We have it and it doesn’t do us any
Good because nobody gets what they
Deserve more than everybody else.

from Family Values by Robert Pinsky

I am tired of tears and laughter,
And men that laugh and weep;
Of what may come hereafter
For men that sow to reap:
I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
And everything but sleep.

from Garden of Proserpine by Algernon Charles Swinburne

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of Roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten:
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

from The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd by Sir Walter Ralegh

Joy’s trick is to supply
Dry lips with what can cool and slake,
Leaving them dumbstruck also with an ache
Nothing can satisfy.

from Hamlen Brook by Richard Wilbur

“I see the guilty world forgiven,”
Dreamer and drunkard sing,
“The ladders let down out of heaven,
The laurel springing from the martyr’s blood,
The children skipping where the weeper stood,
The lovers natural and the beasts all good.”
So dreamer and drunkard sing
Till day their sobriety bring:
Parrotwise with Death’s reply
From whelping fear and nesting lie,
Woods and their echoes ring.
The desires of the heart are as crooked as corkscrews,
Not to be born is the best for man;
The second-best is a formal order,
The dance’s pattern; dance while you can.

from Death’s Echo by W. H. Auden

To fight aloud, is very brave —
But gallanter, I know
Who charge within the bosom
The Cavalry of Woe —

from To Fight Aloud is Very Brave by Emily Dickinson

I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I’d have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek.)

from I Knew a Woman by Theodore Roethke

and nothing quite so least as truth
—i say though hate were why man breathe—
because my father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all

from my father moved through dooms of love by e.e. cummings

No memory of having starred
Atones for later disregard
Or keeps the end from being hard.

from Provide, Provide by Robert Frost

by Richard W. Bray

For Emily

May 22, 2011


Syllables of glee–
Of bobolink and bee—
Her diadem of brain
Where lavish joy is pain

Temerity of breath
Seek ecstasy in death—
The doom of dim and wise
Is dust of paradise—

Inward—fighting woe,
Circumference of know—
Her raiment reveal
Sumptuous little meal

by Richard W. Bray

talk

May 19, 2011


dont be
comin round
to bring me down
with tales you
pass around
dont need that strife
go live your life
somewhere else
you clown

it aint my job
to explain
the ways of me
to you
and I aint here
to live my life
like you want
me to

i dont care
what they say
i dont care
what you hear
so take
your talk
and your self
far away
from here

by Richard W. Bray

That’s How Easy War Can Be

May 16, 2011

american
bombs
courageously
dropped.
everybody
feels
great
here.
imperial
justice
keeps
liberating
manifold
nonhumans.
only
pacifists
queasy.
reality
shows
transmit
universal
values.
we’re
xceptional,
you’re
zapped.

by Richard W. Bray

Downright Victimy

May 12, 2011

Downright Victimy

We all know it’s tragic
When a lover gets the boot
Sometimes it’s no biggie
Sometimes it’s acute
I’ve seen guys who got whupped
For bein’ Passion’s slave
And quite a few that drunk themselves
To an early grave
But I ain’t seen’ nuthin’
Like my buddy Billy Ray
He rewrote the Book of Crazy
When his woman run away
With his little brother
On his thirty-third birthday…

He hunts grizzlies with a penknife
He cleans his pistols with his tongue
He rassles crocodiles
He eats salads made of dung
He wears a barb wire choker
He pours gunpowder on eggs
He takes shooters of Tabasco
He drinks malt liquor by the keg


He don’t just look sick to me
The dude is downright victimy
Won’t live to see the next full moon
If he don’t get some help real soon

by Richard W. Bray

Celebrating the Violent Death of a Wicked Man

May 5, 2011

any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind

John Donne

My grandfather lived to be a hundred years old. He had a remarkable career in which he enriched the lives of thousands of people. In fact, he loved his job teaching Geology so much that he continued to go to work every day for over thirty years after he retired. He was a respected family man and a pillar of the community. None of us could reasonably ask for anything more out of life.

If every person’s death makes me smaller, then it would be natural to assume that the passing of a kind, decent, and noble man like my grandfather would represent the greatest type of loss for humanity.

However, I believe that, paradoxically, the opposite is true: A life squandered in pursuit of violent and vindictive hatred is a failure for all of humanity because, as Donne noted in his famous sermon, no man is an island.

I’m not saying this to scold people who exalt in the death of someone who has committed heinous crimes. This is perfectly natural and I am in no way superior to anyone who would cheer when a bad man gets a bullet to the head. I feel petty and vindictive impulses every day, which are usually directed towards those whom I love the most. That’s simply a function of having an ego.

Being human, the best that I can ever hope to achieve is pity for the wicked in the rag and bone shop of my crooked heart.

by Richard W. Bray

Time to Quit

April 30, 2011

Reuben_Hollebon


Time to Quit

I woke up this morning, wishing I was dead
With forty-seven work crews poundin’ in my head
My belly was the site of a nasty civil war
That abruptly ended when I puked right on the floor
My body is revolting and my soul is on the brink
I’d sell everything I own just to buy another drink

I gotta’ plague of reasons
Why it’s time to quit
Livin’ in a snake pit
A feller will get bit
I lost a lovin’ family, three jobs
And half my mind
Been a long, long time
Since I could say that I was fine

Yesterday I got to work at seven forty-five
Three hot cups of coffee, feeling glad to be alive
My boss looked up and yelled, “Just where the hell you been?”
“I’m fifteen minutes early. Hell, that ain’t no sin”
“Actually,” he sneered “You been AWOL for a week
Foreman’s got your severance, you stupid, smelly freak”

I gotta’ plague of reasons
Why it’s time to quit
Livin’ in a snake pit
A feller will get bit
I lost a lovin’ family, three jobs
And half my mind
Been a long, long time
Since I could say that I was fine

My doctor says my liver’s fixin’ to explode
And all my other organs look ninety-three years old
I got so many toxins stuck inside my skin
Bloated up from battles that my body cannot win
If I ain’t hit bottom, I’m dangling by a thread.
I could get some help or I could get a drink instead

I gotta’ plague of reasons
Why it’s time to quit
Livin’ in a snake pit
A feller will get bit
I lost a lovin’ family, three jobs
And half my mind
Been a long, long time
Since I could say that I was fine

by Richard W. Bray

Sarah Fitzgerald

April 26, 2011

Carl

Sarah Fitzgerald

Sarah Fitzgerald and her brother Harold
Went to the park to play
But no girls nor boys and none of their toys
Could be found that day

For a monster named Larry and his cousin Jerry
Had scared them all away
So Sarah decided the two should be chided
And she had much to say

She marched to their dwelling, the one which was smelling
Of grime, garbage and gore
Though her brother pleaded, young Sarah proceeded
To walk right up to the door

Their uncle appeared, looking quite weird
Drenched in the blood of a boar:
“I’m not sorry to say that the two ran away.
They don’t live here any more.”

Harold told Sarah to leave it alone or a paira’
Dead youngsters they’d be
But Sarah declared that she wouldn’t be scared
By a monster or two, nor by three

Harold was prudent, an erstwhile student
Of monsters and their history:
“In Nineteen-oh-two they made a big stew
Of children like you and like me!”

Sarah was headstrong, “I will get along
With or without you around
And I’ll have you know that I’m willing to go
To the village where monsters abound”

Poor Harold followed, all fear he swallowed
As they journeyed to menacing grounds:
The City of Doom, a patch of great gloom
Where hideous creatures are found

As they entered the city where nothing is pretty
They suddenly started to hear
Wails and groans and hideous moans
Her brother quivered with fear

Several gargoyles and ghouls sporting boils
Grew increasingly near
Sarah’s pace quickened, the musty air thickened
But she knew her quest was sincere

An ogre named Carl said with a snarl,
“These two wayward youngins’ are mad
But here you are, you’ve traveled so far
Without your mum or you dad”

Sarah inquired, “Sir, help is desired.
Some monsters are making me mad
That hooligan Larry and his cousin Jerry
Have been cruel, naughty and bad”

The cantankerous ogre stared a cruel glare
And veins bulged out on his head
Harold shut eyes. The kid realized
The two were soon to be dead

Carl shuddered and shook. Poor Sarah couldn’t look
The air was frozen with dread
They thought he’d explode or perhaps he’d implode
He began to chortle instead

“My dear, I must say you do have a way.
That’s the best laugh I’ve had in a while
You deserve to be praised in various ways
For remarkable gumption and style”

What then ensued can only be viewed
As a case for the Odd Monster Files
(Folks who were there are likely to swear
That he even broke into a smile)

“You know, I reckon, someone should beckon
Those two young rascals to me”
This was no sooner said than the two lads were led
On a chain for all to see

They proceeded to plead that their dastardly deed
Was merely some young monster fun
The cousins then learned in quite certain terms
That their kid-scaring days were now done

Now Sarah’s revered and heartily cheered
Whenever she comes to the park
The children can play not simply all day
But even when it turns dark

Now Harold tells all that it was his call
To boldly and bravely embark
On that fateful day when two kids went away
To protect all who play in the park

by Richard W. Bray

As Long as Babies Cry

April 16, 2011

As Long as Babies Cry

Now I was workin’ out
At my local gym
With my buddies: Paco,
Chester, Dave and Slim
That was when I noticed
And I ain’t tellin’ lies
The world’s greatest beauty
Right before my eyes
So I sauntered over
And mustered up my charm
I approached her sideways
Showin’ off my massive arm
I said, “Now hey there darlin’
Hows about you and me
Get together Friday evening
For some dinner and tv?”


As long as babies cry
You’ll never be my guy
As long as skies are blue
I’ll live life without you
And now our story ends
Please go back to your friends

Now I was never one
To give up that easy
I’m such an awesome guy
My friends call me “Cool Breezy”
And as luck would have it
Another fine young beauty
Was doin’ her thigh crunchers
So I walked up to that cutie
I said “I know your legs are tired
From runnin’ through my brain
But if I don’t get your number
I might just go insane”

As long as babies cry
You’ll never be my guy
As long as skies are blue
I’ll live life without you
And now our story ends
Please go back to your friends

by Richard W. Bray

I Tried

April 11, 2011

I Tried

I tried to clean my chimney
But it covered me with soot
I tried to wire my speakers
But they smoked and went kaput
I tried to lift a dumbbell
But I dropped it on my foot

I tried to tip my waiter
But his pockets were all full
I tried to wear a sweater
But I’m so itchy from the wool
I tried to ride my horsey
But I saddled up a bull

I tried to wash my car
But it began to rain
I tried some jumping jacks
But that gave me a pain
I want to do what’s right
But it’s driving me insane

by Richard W. Bray