Featured Poem 4/7/02:


Where do most (poems) grow?
      Under hate or injustice,
Or regrettably, in the tumbling
      Of love and death.

How do they ignite the world?
      In the far recesses
      Of sleep.

Can any ever move a stone?
      Once in Ireland we've heard
This, & of course, whenever
      We hear this, we wonder more.

We've even heard some lie in wait
      For countless years.
How can this be true? Few are ever
      Present when the two are one.

Some have tried counting all
      Of the many? Is this wise?

No one here has ever

      Quantified such madness.

When some fall asleep why do so
      Many rhyme in triplets?

Some who dream see this
      As the only desires left.

Why do so many appear when
      One or two begin to walk?

We've heard this also of some
      Who swim near the bottoms.

Most stay in inner recesses when
      Not in use. Why is this?

For if not there, where
      Could anyone feel safe?

Wešve not seen odes to fallen soldiers
      In quite some time. Can you tell us more?

So many have died since the first wars, few
      Notice the losses, & stones in neat rows
      Replace what once was sorrow.

Birds have sometimes been thought
      To hold the last stanzas.

Yes, & in the howling winds.

Do they ever seek their own solace
      As we do?

Unfortunately no.
      Their only salvation is being found.

© DeWitt Clinton


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