15 thoughts on “Some of My Poems

  1. ~Placement~

    Lush, sheenuous pluming-greens
    slip peeks
    of the milk-limpid moon
    to him,
    and delirious lofty fan-flares
    wreck quakes
    of tensile steel-lance cries
    to him.

    A stone stardop
    a whiff-frail light,
    flushing his chest.

    He sweeps touchless drift-shades,
    and flash-streaks
    a glancing crester,
    sailing breath-brimmed space,
    splitting, splash-sparkling
    on a wind-spilled pool
    of silver rock.

    Fan-flares fly to open sky.
    Swirl-leaves flow,
    flicker and toss,
    and whispers cease on fluffs of moss. (c. 1968)

    Liked by 2 people

  2. ~Would Be~

    Would be the rise to wonder,
    this click-shut night.
    To those trains’ risen rumbles,
    this silk tie tight.

    Would be to traction motor,
    copper, shellac.
    To axles’ bright ten-thousandths,
    castings in stack.

    Would be for tons two hundred,
    high cranes glide free.
    To locomotive thunder,
    we who would be. (Jan. 2013)

    Liked by 2 people

  3. ~His Day~

    Here on stone,
    sound his days in waves,
    lie his love in blooms,
    these peonies his Junes.

    There at far,
    chime his time in hues,
    mount his reds and blues,
    cross this lake, his last grace.

    Here on stone,
    washed in waves of tears,
    firmed for steps, no fears,
    full blaze, my clockwork days. (June 2013)

    Liked by 1 person

  4. ~Each Reach~

    Each reach, root, clasp, or grasp,
    all flights, all calls, all nests,
    all pulsing blood, all valves,
    all meters and accounts,
    bows of gifts, ties of love,
    treasures of loveliness
    in being and thinking,
    in rainbows and forest,
    in commerce and the peace—

    Each problem and harvest,
    lay and planting for each
    breath and cry and suckle,
    struggle, rest, and struggle
    to grasp and say and make—
    are only of life, life
    gyring round, rambling to
    life wide-waked to wide world
    and to itself with you. (Mar. 2017)

    Liked by 1 person

  5. ~Island~

    Orbits back, forty-nine,
    marching, tuned true upon that shore,
    pulling through, through that cooling water
    under that breezing blazing blue.

    Sun-burning young lovers,
    stepping those dunes, under desire,
    baring on high sands, only we
    under that sky, beside that sea. (August 2020)

    Liked by 1 person

  6. ~Hardness of Happiness~

    Hard as far would away
    the broken bone or heart.

    Hard as not broke in two,
    stone-whole, full rightly faced.

    Hard as these walls of stone,
    our ringing steels all done.

    This glancing the sunlights
    and shadows by us won. (March 2021)

    Liked by 1 person

  7. ~The Song~

    The world and you are with me.
    It and you make and move me.
    I make and move in the world and you.

    Now was will be it is.
    It is pass we pace.
    It is field we trace.
    It is trait we lace.
    We it we live, of it, of we.

    The world and I are with you.
    It and I make and move you.
    You make and move in the world and me.


    This poem is of some aspects of my recent paper EXISTENCE, WE. https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.5325/jaynrandstud.21.1.0065?refreqid=excelsior%3Ab00a1d3287a8aa65f9886e07ec61913d&fbclid=IwAR0Tf5p4Of2Bmpuq8SjfZuXck8XsBWngorcUmH5Au3-tniBKMkp5pmjRBpU

    An additional subsection, a follow-on is here: https://forum.objectivismonline.com/index.php?/topic/34262-existence-we/&tab=comments#comment-371458

    Liked by 2 people

  8. Thanks for sharing these, Stephen. I’ve been wanting to encourage people to post about, or actually post, poetry here at PoT. It often gets neglected in our focus on philosophy and politics.

    I’m curious to know whether you read much poetry, and if so, what are your preferences.


    • Thank you, Irfan, for your comment and query. I was pretty sure this was within what you would like to have in your blog.

      I’ve learned, thanks to the easy internet communications, that my poems resonate—this poem or that—with some people, and for some people, they resonate deeply. I’ve not read nearly so much poetry as I’d like. From what’s been written and posted or published these last few decades, my peeks, indicate there is much there super-fine for me, although, much too that I don’t care about. The latter would include most any poem that is about public affairs (just my peculiarity). My poems are always about private life, inner life. Within that, I like to experiment with different styles.

      I don’t have a favorite poet, but some poems among the classics that I like a lot are:
      Ode to a Nightingale – Keats
      Annabel Lee – Poe
      Silent Noon – Rossetti
      Lullaby – Auden
      love is more thicker than forget – Cummings

      It would be interesting to hear of favorite poems others have.
      A couple more, from my own lifetime are:
      A Giant Has Swallowed the Earth for a Pill – Rogers
      Potpourri – Stern

      With the user-easy technology available now, I’ve had some fun—and readers have liked it—to put some of my poems on an appropriate visual background to share online. A recent example:

      Liked by 1 person

      • Thanks. Interesting list. For some reason, I always enjoy reading lists of this sort.

        My favorite poem is Wordsworth’s Preludes. Nothing really compares to it. Likewise many of Wordsworth’s other poems. I guess I’d say that Wordsworth is my favorite poet.

        Wordsworth aside, I can’t say that I’ve read very much poetry in an intensive way. I’ve read bits and pieces here and there, and just like what I like in a very casual, amateurish way. So take this list in that spirit.

        1. I love Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Portugese love sonnets, though for personal reasons, I also find them painful to read.
        2. I like or love a great deal of Robert Frost’s poetry, including all of the old favorites that everyone knows.
        3. Though I can’t really claim to understand it, I do enjoy Wallace Stevens. My favorite is “Esthetique du Mal.” I spent a year at Notre Dame (I think it was 1998) having dinner with the Wallace Stevens scholar George Lensing, who cultivated an appreciation in me for Stevens.
        4. I own Czeslaw Milosz’s complete works, but have only read a tiny portion of them. What I’ve read, I absolutely love.
        5. Among more contemporary poets, I’ve only read a bit, but I enjoy Mary Oliver and Patricia Carlin.
        6. I have only a superficial knowledge of T.S. Eliot, but “Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock” is a guilty pleasure. So is Philip Larkin (whose deeply perverse work I know rather well).
        7. Again, I have a superficial knowledge of Urdu poetry (and of Urdu), but the poetry of Ghalib, Iqbal, and Faiz Ahmad Faiz always resonates.
        8. Same thing for Spanish–Neruda and Borges. Borges’s “Poems of the Night” got me through a terrible phase of insomnia a few years ago.
        9. Finally, I have a poetry collection of the Palestinian poet Taha Muhammad Ali, So What? that I greatly enjoy. The first one in the collection, “Abdel Hadi Fights a Superpower” is worth the price of the book.

        There’s a sense in which childrens’ literature reads like poetry. I’ll sometimes read some in that spirit.

        Liked by 1 person

  9. (The second of these poems, I wrote last week while on the road, and I then noticed that it fits well—in this order—with these others from 2017 and 2019.)

    It might be less one hoped
    and more.
    Fleshed out, timed out, all-run
    Rain to soil, swell to stream,
    whiffs of evers before
    our days
    of open ways with form,
    with clays
    handed new, fired in, for,
    our rays.
    ~All Along~
    Become some reason, then all along,
    beneath each chant, arch, trance, and tear
    was known
    stop-still of life, the end, no more,
    no something, no place, no passage.
    ~After all~
    the you or me and we
    are stop, still, done, away,
    all rush the world old play,
    their rise, breathe, love their be,
    their arms, words, eyes hold dawn,
    race noon, bold burn their turn,
    all rush the world old play,
    their rise, breathe, love their be.
    So belong, so keep
    the night song your deep
    tourings rise to new
    stays of day’s bright view.
    So belong, so be
    in me in world we
    tuners, scalers of
    time, we bringers, love.
    So belong, so last
    our one, our days passed
    to they further sights,
    they new we, new lights.


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