Two New Lives Begin -- by Don Moler

The following poem was sent to me by my very good fried Don Moler. I met Don while living in my home town of Youngstown, Ohio, and we share common interests of Amateur Radio and computers. Little did I know that he loves to write poems. I'm hoping that he will share other poems he wrote with me to publish on this website. 

The following simple poem conveys a message of two people starting their new life together in marriage. 

                                                  Two new lives begin  by : Don Moler

                         

                                          It is in the early morning

                                          That the sun shall shine again

                                          and all the things you've done before

                                          Is wisdom that you gain

                                          You sail your ship's new voyage

                                           with two captains at the helm

                                          With winds of love propelling you

                                          your future is your realm

                                         You must search yourselves for knowledge

                                          not found in any school

                                         and put to use experience

                                         a wise and working tool

                          

                                         Within my vision pictured

                                         under blue sky's white sails ride

                                         upon an ocean emerald

                                         Is Walter and his bride.

                                             Don Moler 

Barack Obama (President of the United States) wrote and published 2 Poems

Now it's time out. As the case with ALL prior poems published on this blog, I've included my opinion and a brief literary explanation of the poem.  However in this case, I've elected just to publish President Obama's poems on this blog without any explanation. As most of my readers know, I also write a blog called 'Obama in the White House' which can be found at http://www.obamainthewhitehouse.us .  Many people do not know that the President actually published the following two poems when he was a college student.   

Obama as Poet President Barack Obama Courtesy of Barack Obama: U.S. Senator for Illinois Web site  When President Obama was a 19-year-old student at Occidental College, he published two poems in the spring 1982 issue of Feast, the school's literary magazine. The first poem, "Pop," appears to capture a moment between the young Obama and his maternal grandfather, Stanley Dunham. The bond between the two is reinforced at the end of the poem by the framing and reflective properties of Pop's glasses. "Pop" Sitting in his seat, a seat broad and broken In, sprinkled with ashes, Pop switches channels, takes another Shot of Seagrams, neat, and asks What to do with me, a green young man Who fails to consider the Flim and flam of the world, since Things have been easy for me; I stare hard at his face, a stare That deflects off his brow; I’m sure he’s unaware of his Dark, watery eyes, that Glance in different directions, And his slow, unwelcome twitches, Fail to pass. I listen, nod, Listen, open, till I cling to his pale, Beige T-shirt, yelling, Yelling in his ears, that hang With heavy lobes, but he’s still telling His joke, so I ask why He’s so unhappy, to which he replies... But I don’t care anymore, cause He took too damn long, and from Under my seat, I pull out the Mirror I’ve been saving; I’m laughing, Laughing loud, the blood rushing from his face To mine, as he grows small, A spot in my brain, something That may be squeezed out, like a Watermelon seed between Two fingers. Pop takes another shot, neat, Points out the same amber Stain on his shorts that I’ve got on mine, and Makes me smell his smell, coming From me; he switches channels, recites an old poem He wrote before his mother died, Stands, shouts, and asks For a hug, as I shink, my Arms barely reaching around His thick, oily neck, and his broad back; ‘cause I see my face, framed within Pop’s black-framed glasses And know he’s laughing too. When asked to comment on the merit of "Pop," Harold Bloom, Sterling Professor of the Humanities and English at Yale University, described it as “not bad—a good enough folk poem with some pathos and humor and affection.... It is not wholly unlike Langston Hughes, who tended to imitate Carl Sandburg." [1] Obama's poetry, Bloom makes clear, is much superior to the poetry of former President Jimmy Carter (Bloom calls Carter "literally the worst poet in the United States"). President Obama's second poem, "Underground," is more exotic and obscure: "Underground" Under water grottos, caverns Filled with apes That eat figs. Stepping on the figs That the apes Eat, they crunch. The apes howl, bare Their fangs, dance, Tumble in the Rushing water, Musty, wet pelts Glistening in the blue. Bloom feels that "Underground" is the better of Obama's two poems, reminiscent of some of D. H. Lawrence's poetry: “I think it is about some sense of chthonic forces, just as Lawrence frequently is—some sense, not wholly articulated, of something below, trying to break through.” [2] While President Obama's poetry displays some signs of talent, by choosing politics over poetry he made, like the other poetry-writing presidents before him, the right career choice. As Bloom notes: “If I had been shown these poems by one of my undergraduates and asked, Shall I go on with it?, I would have rubbed my forehead and said, On the whole, my dear, probably not. Your future is not as a person of letters.“ Although President Obama may not have written poetry since his college years, his fondness for poetry remains. Obama was seen carrying Derek Walcott's Collected Poems, 1948-1984 shortly after his election; invited Elizabeth Alexander to read a poem at his inauguration; hosted, along with First Lady Michelle Obama, a celebration of poetry, music and the spoken word at the White House; and noted in a recent interview that he reads Urdu poetry.  Notes 1. All quotations by Harold Bloom from Rebecca Mead's "Obama, Poet," (http://www.newyorker.com/talk/2007/07/02/ 070702ta_talk_mead, The New Yorker, July 2, 2007). 2. To read other assessments of Obama's poetry, many less positive than Harold Bloom's, see "Obama's Poetry Skills Draw Scrutiny" (http://media.www.oxyweekly.com/media/storage/paper1200/news/2007/04/04/News/ Obamas.Poetry.Skills.Draw.Scrutiny-2822022.shtml, The Occidental Weekly, April 4, 2007).

Poof gone bye bye (Poem)

Looking back sometimes makes you ask a simple question "Is it worth it?" You know that it is, but sometimes you work so hard at it, and in a moments time, it could be gone. That's almost funny, as it happened to me just yesterday while writing. All of a sudden, all of my time and effort to write was for not, because just as I was posting another poem here, my computer froze with the 'blue screen of death'. But then I came across this poem.Then I realized that it is worth it. A moment of uncontrolled anger hit me when it happened, but then I realized that all I lost were a few words. Here is a simple poem (author unknown) that had me laughing after that moment of anger. Has this ever happened to you while writing your blog?

 Poof gone bye bye (poem)

I sat here this morning with freezing cold feet

And wrote a poem that was beautiful and sweet 

And when I hit the button to make it post  now

It just vanished into thin air some how 

I worked so hard, it took me so long

And some how my poem just didn't belong 

Because it went poof, gone, bye bye

I trembled inside and wanted to cry 

Where did it go and why did it leave

I may never know,all I can do now is grieve 

Poof gone bye bye, it's gone out the door

My feet are still freezing,and my poem is no more

A Dream for You

A wonderful thing a mind can do, and that's is to dream. Most people cannot control their dreams. It is a product of a subconscious mind. Physically, you appear to be sleeping, but a mental condition exists that claims your mind is awake, and it is what we know as a dream. What do you really want to dream about? Maybe it's your upcoming vacation, or a vacation that you remember that was already taken. For me, I would hope it could be about that very special person in my life. In the past, I could hardly remember any dream. But presently now married to Virginia, I seem to now have dreams that I can remember, great dreams, that are kind of personal. But it's just the thought that I truly dream about Virginia that proves that our relationship is special. The following poem, written by Richard Netherland Cook, is a specal poem in which everything is happy and beautiful forever.

A Dream For You

© Richard Netherland Cook

If I could dream

The dream I wanted too,

I would close my eyes,

And dream a dream for you.

I would give you all the world,

That you are deserving of,

And to you I would give

My everlasting love.

I would see to it,

That you were never sad.

And nothing in your life

Would ever happen bad.

I would wish for you,

All things would go your way,

And you would always be happy,

Each and every day.

In my dream

You would stay 

Just as beautiful

As you are today.

Life for you would be as perfect

As the blueness of the sky,

And no one would ever hurt you,

Or ever make you cry.

I know it's just a dream,

But if dreams could come true,

I would close my eyes,

And dream a dream for you.

Richard Netherland Cook

Copyright, 2007

Truly Knowing Yourself

I can remember the times before I met my wife Virginia, and during these times, I felt that I had everything in my life, but later to find out how wrong I was. Two prior marriages, two women who were part of my life, I thought I knew my feelings and my heart, but I didn't. Many years passed when I actually thought that I had everything a man could surely want in life, but I realized how wrong I was when I finally met my wife Virginia. As the saying goes, the third time is the charm, and surely it was. never have I ever been so happy as I am now, nor how much fulfillment I have in my life all because of the most special woman in my life, Virginia. Below is a poem by Joanna Fuchs, a terrific writer who writes from her heart.

Until I Met You

By Joanna Fuchs

Before I met you,

I thought I was happy,

and I was,

but I had never known

the rich contentment,

deep satisfaction,

and total fulfillment

you brought to me

when you came into my life.

Before I met you,

I felt a lot of things,

good things,

but I had never experienced

the indescribably intense

feelings I have for you.

Before I met you,

I thought I knew myself,

and I did,

but you looked deep inside me

and found fresh new things

for us to share.

Before I met you,

I thought I knew about love,

but I didn’t,

until I met you.

Even with a sense of 'Hopelessness' you can find the Answer

Obviously, not all poems are about love. Not all poems are about happy times. One of those not so happy times can be when you feel a sense of hopelessness. It is a feeling of abandonment, a feeling of loneliness. It is a time that bears the fact that nothing will help. It is a time that many people turn to their faith for answers, not expecting that an answer will come. It is a time that you wander aimlessly, not knowing which way to go. The following poem demonstrates this terrible feeling, but people who experience hopelessness must realize that they are not alone. They must realize that tomorrow may and most likely bring along a better day. When you experience hopelessness, it is just another way that God is testing you. If you feel that you are falling into this void of despair, then know that things can and will get better. The better day will come with your patience, and your trust in all that is good around you, including your faith.

Hopelessness

by Weeping Wolf

So it comes down to this.

Dreams burned into the dust

Joys swept under the rug

Trembling beneath the smile,

Tears trying to hold back tears

Like getting lost on a rainy road

without a home. without a friend.

All my sunny days are gone

All my lonely nights are long

I have friends but none that see

the chains are gone, but am i free?

And not a caring word to be spoken

Not a pair of open arms to be known.

Who will help me make it through another day?

Sweet Jesus, what encouragement could you say?

When I feel i have turned the other cheek

to be hit down again and again, to what gain?

When I let them drag me, pull me down,

to be their lamb to the slaughter, for what pain?

All my sunny days are gone

All my lonely nights are long

Oh I've lived the passion and I've felt the rain

But how long to wait till love surpasses pain?

The Mystery behind POEMS

Unlike news stories, poems never seem to grow old. They are never yesterdays news. In some cases, they may have an effect to have direct bearing on the news of the day. It could be last years news or todays news, and it surely may relate to news that is yet to happen. Words of a poem can reflect on past, present and future days events. So unlike news stories, they never grow old. A poem written 200 years ago may have an effect on someone who reads it today. In many cases, they can have an effect on a person that a major news story can bring. Poems sometimes represent the simplest, yet most complete outine of a subject. It can catch the eye of a reader in the least amount of words, better than any short story. A good poem is a very special poem. It could be a special poem for someone, whether it is for a loved one or a friend, or even a poem of inspiration. A poem could contain just a bunch of words that rhyme, but then can also contain words with deep meaning, and may have a story to tell. Don't think that poems are just for ladies. If you ever wanted to dig deep inside of yourself and write some serious stuff, try writing a good poem.

What are Poems

Poems can be words that symbolize you.

Poems are images that you imagine.

Poems are conversations or voices that you want to profess from your heart.

Poems can be noises of different sounds.

Poems are things that can happen.

Poems can be feelings that cannot be expressed in other ways.

Poems are laughter of the people who cry inside. A form of expression.

Poems wouldn't exist without someone writing them or someone reading them.

Wishful Thinking - The Kind that Comes True

My wife Virginia, as supportive as she always is, has convinced me to continue writing, even though I've had some reservations recently to do so. Sometimes I have the time to contemplate and write my own poems. Sometimes like now, I don't really have the time, but since there are so many poems published and available on the web, I thought I may share them with you from time to time. The following poem is one of those I would like to share.   When I think of my wife, sometimes I catch my self daydreaming, or maybe it can be considered wishful thinking. 

Wishful thinking is the formation of beliefs and making decisions according to what might be pleasing to imagine instead of by appealing to evidence or rationality. Have you ever wished for something? It could be the simplest of wishes that can grant you the most pleasure. In a relationship between two people, that can definitely be the case, even with just a little wishful thinking.

Wishful Thinking

by MDK

Sometimes I wish . . .
I could be a star,
I 'd shine down on you
And brighten up your midnight sky . . .

Sometimes I wish . . .
I could be the moon,
I'd light your way
And guide you through
the night . . .

Sometimes I wish . . .
I could be the wind,
I'd blow my breeze upon you
And cool your warm nights . . .

Sometimes I wish . . .
I could be all these
So that some way, somehow
I could be near you even for a moment . . .

Sometimes I wish . . .
I could be all these
Just for you . . .