Category Archives: poem

Walls, walls, and walls…

When people think of Robert Frost and quote his poem “Mending Wall”  they use this in support of fence making: “Good fences make good neighbors…” but rarely  have they read the poem all the way through. Here is the heart, I believe, of this poem , at least insofar as it pertains to physical walls:

Before I built a wall I’d ask to know

What I was walling in or walling out,

And to whom I was like to give offence.

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

That wants it down.”

 

You can read the poem in its entirety, here

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44266/mending-wall

OH DONNIE BOY…(Scary!)

(Sung to the tune of Danny Boy)

Oh Donny boy, republicans are gawking

Your racist house of cards won’t long abide

The  Dems are here and Michael Cohen’s talking.

If it’s all true, impeachment’s justified:

The loans you got, the tax bills you evaded

The conning schemes and hushed-up bribes you paid,

Your wall, your wall, which Mexico won’t subsidize

Its clear that you won’t get that Nobel prize…

But we won’t care or listen to your keening

We won’t weep moats for loss of your golf greens

We’ll celebrate by speaking truth to trumpery

We’ll speak it loud, from sea to shining sea.

So slink you back, in orange jumpsuit, cowering, 

Mike, Paul and Rog will go to jail unbowed

It’s not fake news we’ve caught you with your panties down

Oh Donny boy, oh Donny boy, who’s winning now?

 

by phoebe sparrow wagner 3/2019

TEN YEAR OLD KENYAN GIRL RECITES MY POEM

Click and it will re-orient itself properly! This is beautifully done! Brava, Mercy!

AFTERWARDS, WHAT THE MOTHER SAID

I was happy when those green birds

flew shining into my garden.

 

I thought it meant that Allah had smiled

and fate would be kind.

But the grindstone turned.

 

For my son, the struggle was all. I did not know

the meaning of his great determination

to be al shaheed al hayy, “the living martyr.”

 

The small birds clung to the line

for nearly an hour

 

before they hurled themselves to the sky

in a great shrill.

 

Now I can think only of the gore

of innocents on a shredded shirt

I’d washed the night before,

the blood on his Quran left on a bench nearby.

 

I was ashamed when asked

to claim him as my child.

 

You ask me

am I happy my son has joined the martyrs?

Do I rejoice to be the mother of a hero?

 

Who cares of heroes or martyrs

I have lost my son.

 

May those whom he murdered forgive me.

 

Inshallah, we will not meet again,

no, not even in Paradise.

 

But had I known of his plans

I would have taken a blade, sliced open my heart

and crammed him deep inside.

 

I would have seamed it tight to seal him in.

I would have never let him go.

 

Copyright Pamela Spiro Wagner 2017

Poems Recited by Pamela Spiro Wagner on YouTube

Excuse the  poor video quality here though the sound is fine. Not sure whether using the “selfie mode” on my iPhone made the video poor or what?? Anyone have suggestions? Anyhow I would love reactions to my reading below….(Just nothing obvious on how bad the vid  quality is. I ALREADY know this! By the way, I made this for David H. and his project  in the U.K. so that is why I referred to the Brits in it…

Thanks!

Pam

New Art and a Poem by Hafiz

Portrait of Mott

I left my fingers holding this uncropped so you could get an idea of just how small the portrait really is. Watercolors and caran d’ache luminance pencils. 

The following poem is by sufi muslim poet Hafiz, and it just blows me away:

“Light will someday split you open

Even if your life is now a cage,

For a divine seed, the crown of destiny,

Is hidden and sown on an ancient, fertile plain

You hold the title to…

Love will surely bust you wide open

Into an unfettered, blooming new galaxy

Even if your mind is now

A spoiled mule.

A life-giving radiance will come,

The Friend’s gratuity will come

O look again within yourself,

For I know you were once the elegant host

To all the marvels in creation.

From a sacred crevice in your body

A bow rises each night

And shoots your soul into God.

Behold the Beautiful Drunk Singing One

From the lunar vantage point of love.

He is conducting the affairs

Of the whole universe

While throwing wild parties

In a tree house – on a limb

In your heart.”

-Hafiz