Blue Poetry

Howard Park - Blue Poetry

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[10-20-2006]
Poems:

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Howard Park

Blue Poetry

I--Blue (#1505)) 10-13-2006)

Ii--Rainbow Jars (#678/10-2004)

Iii--Winter Remembered (#1506) 10-13-2006)

Iv--Shadow in the Wood (#679/10-2004)

V--Exile the Poets (#1504)

1--Blue

Blue was the Master, blue, blue!

Blue his eyes, were, blue his hair.

Through the blue air he came

(the whole world turned blue for him).

The flashy designs of his dress

Were neither green nor black, but blue.

Over the blue sky he went

(and even the sea turned blue then).

My life will all the time leave open

A narrow door, to let him in.

#1505 10/134/2006

Ii--Rainbow Jars

If you do not ride a falling star

You will never write about who you are,

Revive your dormant soul!

"Now let's go!"

Harmony is in heaven, not here on earth...!

And ghosts do not tarry in rainbow jars...

If you will not ride a falling star

You leave no impressions

Nor revive your dead heart!

Harmony is in heaven, not here on earth...!

#678 (10/2004)) Revised 10/2006)

Iii--Winter Remembered

Oh, the whiteness so divine

Of the first snow fall of winter--;

Its solitude so pure,

Its silence so permanent.

It is so far away

(a Minnesota winter)

So far, it is hard to remember--

Yet the idea alone is a fountain.

Unending snowflakes--

A snow that will never cease

On hard wooden roofs, and streets

All this indelible white--.

A fancy indeed, a peace; hence,

Leave alone to remember.

#1506 10/13/2006

Iv--Shadow in the Wood

I got lost in the dark part of the wood's shadow.

The moon is up, dark with shadows in the wood!

"Look dark," I say, "you are by yourself! What

will you do?"

"...come to this crevasse--this shadow in the wood,"

it said to me; and now I'm a leaf, on a big tree.

#679 10/2004; revised 10/2006

V--Exile the Poets

Exile Baudelaire's swan, along with Yeats and Keats and Jimeuez, they are all dead poetic geese and so is Martinez. Ride the swan's neck, then do away with the rest: Dario, Najera, Silva, Casal, and Echeverria. Who needs poets anyway? Do away with Romanticism, literary madness, freedom, lets be clones; it is all that will be left, once the poets are gone.

#1504 10/13/2006

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