Poems From the Porch 32
Welcome to the Porch. There are only three poems this week and so I would just like to open this anthology with this definition of poetry and poets as published in the very first edition of The Encyclopaedia Britannica (1768-71.)
"Poetry is an art where everything should please. It is not enough to exhibit nature, which in certain places and circumstances is rude and unpleasant; but the poet must chuse (sic) in her what is beautiful from what is not: whence a poet ought to chuse (sic), for the subject of his imitation, something naturally affecting....
In fine, to accomplish a poet, is required a temperature of wit and fancy, of strength and sweetness, of penetration and delicacy; but above all, he must have a sovereign eloquence, and a profound capacity. These are the qualities that must concur together to form the genius of a poet, and sustain his character."
“Hi Jodah, you’re good at making poems about food. Thinking of writing a new one?
...anything you fancy or what is universally loved like ‘bread’.”
Li-Jen, I love bread and probably eat more than most people, but writing a poem about it was not that easy. Anyway, I did my best.
The smell of good bread baking,
like the sound of lightly flowing water,
is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight— M.F.K. Fisher
Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread
“Give us this day our daily bread”
So it says upon the Lord’s Prayer.
Bread‘s one of the oldest man-made foods
That many cultures share.
Bread‘s considered a necessity,
And also slang for money,
The bread-winner in the family
Buys food to fill your tummy.
The types of bread are endless,
There’s white, mixed grain, and rye,
Wholegrain, sourdough, Turkish bread,
Whatever people buy.
Bread’s a powerful symbol
For provision of our needs,
So let’s break bread together
And be generous in our deeds.
Rosina S Khan
I would like relationships with the people I interact with every day to improve so that we can be mutually happy. Therefore, I would request a poem, 'Improving Relationships with the Surrounding People'.'
I did my best with this poem, Rosina. I hope it offers some guidance.
The most important thing in communication is hearing what isn’t said.— Peter Drucker
Improving Relationships With Surrounding People
Of eight billion people on this Earth
how many you’ll encounter
depends how much you socialise
and how extensively you travel.
We’re all unique, have different views
often shaped by race and culture,
but most people are kind and good
and have the same basic requirements.
So, smile at everyone you meet,
don’t judge them at first sight,
for appearances often deceive
and first impressions seldom right.
Be positive and don’t complain,
listen more than speak.
Try to understand their views,
and don’t try to compete.
Give your opinion if you’re asked,
promote what you believe,
but don’t engage in hot debate
if it will cause you grief.
Be generous and show you care,
and quick to offer help.
Don’t expect things in return,
prove your concern’s heartfelt.
Then people will embrace you,
your company be sought.
They’ll spread the word to others
and say your heart is good.
Kyler J Falk
"There isn't enough rabid, burning passion in this world. The type of passion that breeds fair and impartial love, and roaring acceptance. You encapsulate the spirit of this passion for me, John, but I want a poem that really hammers the point home. I want it bittersweet, I want my heart to hurt but also to feel your hands around it, nursing it back to health.
Give me a poem titled, 'Extinguish Sadness With Flames of Passion!'"
I want to see a constructive example of fighting fire with fire! Let's set the world alight!
Kyler, I used that as the theme for this poem but I gave it a different title. I hope you like "One Night in Lust."
Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us but we can't strike them all by ourselves— Laura Esquivel, Like Water for Chocolate
One Night In Lust
I sat alone, hugging the bar,
Feeling sorry for myself.
The barman knew my poison,
So he pulled it off the shelf.
My head hung in morose recline,
Feeling deserted by my God.
“Just add that to my growing tab,”
I acknowledged with a nod.
I’d lost my job, I’d lost my wife,
But they say that life goes on.
An easy thing for “them” to say,
How often “they” are wrong.
I downed the glass and stared at it,
The bourbon burnt my throat,
But it also helped to drown the pain.
I’d fallen from Jim’s boat.
A finger raised, “Hit me again!”
A sign the barman knew,
Then I felt a hand press on my back,
”Would you mind if I join you?”
I raised my head and turned around,
Which was easier said than done.
Her smiling eyes and ruby lips
Combined to strike me dumb.
She ordered a margarita
And I put it on my bill.
My head was spinning wildly,
But, I remember that night still.
We stumbled to a cheap motel
Whose neon sign was bust.
It meant to read “LUCKY STAR MOTEL,”
But the lights spelled only “ LU . . .ST . .“
If words were said, I can’t recall
But the passion was intense.
Clothes were strewn around the floor -
To resist would make no sense.
I made love like a man possessed,
She burned me with her touch.
With rabid thirst to be desired,
I just couldn’t get enough.
It was five years ago in “LUST
When my passion was returned.
The night my good wife won me back.
That reignited fire still burns.
Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell.— Joan Crawford
More Poems Await
Well, that's it for this week but I hope you come back to the porch again for the next anthology. I am looking forward to it myself as I will be writing poems for: Mel Carrier, Lawrence Hebb and Ann Carr, and maybe more.
Oh, and don't forget, if you have any requests for poems yourself, just ask. The more the merrier.
This content is accurate and true to the best of the author’s knowledge and is not meant to substitute for formal and individualized advice from a qualified professional.
© 2020 John Hansen