The Power of the Dog

The Power of the Dog

by Rudyard Kipling

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie--
Perfect passsion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart to a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find--it's your own affair--
But ... you've given your heart to a dog to tear. 

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone--wherever it goes--for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear. 

We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-term loan is as bad as a long--
So why in--Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

Found here:  http://www.bartleby.com/364/335.html

The Ties That Bind

The Ties That Bind
by Bruce Springsteen

You been hurt and you're all cried out you say
You walk down the street pushin' people outta your way
You packed your bags and all alone you want to ride
You don't want nothin', don't need no one by your side
You're walkin' tough baby, but you're walkin' blind
To the ties that bind

The ties that bind
Now you can't break the ties that bind

Cheap romance, it's all just a crutch
You don't want nothin' that anybody can touch
You're so afraid of being somebody's fool
Not walkin' tough baby, not walkin' cool
You walk cool, but darlin', can you walk the line
And face the ties that bind
The ties that bind
Now you can't break the ties that bind

I would rather feel the hurt inside, yes I would darlin'
Than know the emptiness your heart must hide
Yes I would, darlin', yes I would, darlin'
Yes I would, baby

Oh, you sit and wonder just who's gonna stop the rain
Who'll ease the sadness, who's gonna quiet your pain
It's a long dark highway and a thin white line
Connecting baby, your heart to mine
We're runnin' now but darlin' we will stand in time
To face the ties that bind
The ties that bind
Now you can't break the ties that bind
You can't forsake the ties that bind

Found here:   https://youtu.be/Y45YyJYF30s

Small, Smaller

Small, Smaller
by Russell Hoban


I thought I knew all there was to know 
Of being small, until I saw once, black against the snow
A shrew, trapped in my footprint, jump and fall
And jump again and fall, the hole too deep, the walls too tall



Found here: http://stancarey.tumblr.com/post/108995343323/small-smaller

Song of the Open Road

Song of the Open Road

Related Poem Content Details

BY WALT WHITMAN

1 

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, 

Healthy, free, the world before me, 

The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose. 

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune, 

Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, 

Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, 

Strong and content I travel the open road. 

The earth, that is sufficient, 

I do not want the constellations any nearer, 

I know they are very well where they are, 

I know they suffice for those who belong to them. 

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens, 

I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go, 

I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them, 

I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)


Found here:  https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/48859

[I Saw Myself]

[I Saw Myself] 
by Lew Welch


I saw myself
a ring of bone
in the clear stream
of all of it

and vowed
always to be open to it
that all of it
might flow through

and then heard
“ring of bone” where
ring is what a

bell does 


Found here. 

Microscopes

Microscopes
by Bill Cohen

I looked into my microscope, and saw some wondrous things.
I saw a fruit fly standing there, with six legs and two wings.
And on its back I saw some stripes, and on its head, oh gee!
I saw the fruit-fly's big red eyes a-staring back at me.

I got a better microscope, to see what more was there.
And then I saw that everywhere the fruit fly had some hair--
On its legs and on its wings and even on its eyes,
Which turned out to be organs made of eyes of smaller size.

I got a better microscope, to see these things so small.
And when I looked at my fruit fly it seemed not there at all.
But in this place on the fruit fly's face that I could see so well,
There was a tiny little sac, a living fruit-fly cell.

I got a better microscope, to see what was inside.
The cells were full of organelles, some narrow and some wide,
Some round, some flat, some thin, some fat, but what I was afraid of
Was that I wouldn't get to see what things these things were made of.

I got a better microscope, to better see this stuff.
And now it looked like curlicues and lollipops and fluff,
And springy, clingy, stringy threads unwound from tiny spools,
And beady blobs with little knobs: All fruit-fly molecules.

I got a better microscope, and looked inside once more.
The molecules wre bigger -- oh, much bigger than before.
And they were all just full of balls of very different sizes
Organized in wondrous ways -- the biggest of surprises.

I tried to get a microscope so I could look right at 'em.
But I found out that every ball was just a single atom.
And though there are some big machines to smash and crash and break 'em,
Microscopes to see inside? Well, they just don't make 'em!


Found here. 

Possibilities

POSSIBILITIES by Wislawa Szymborska

I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
I prefer myself liking people
to myself loving mankind.
I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case.
I prefer the color green.
I prefer not to maintain
that reason is to blame for everything.
I prefer exceptions.
I prefer to leave early.
I prefer talking to doctors about something else.
I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I prefer, where love’s concerned, nonspecific anniversaries
that can be celebrated every day.
I prefer moralists
who promise me nothing.
I prefer cunning kindness to the over-trustful kind.
I prefer the earth in civvies.
I prefer conquered to conquering countries.
I prefer having some reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
I prefer Grimms’ fairy tales to the newspapers’ front pages.
I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.
I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.
I prefer desk drawers.
I prefer many things that I haven’t mentioned here
to many things I’ve also left unsaid.
I prefer zeroes on the loose
to those lined up behind a cipher.
I prefer the time of insects to the time of stars.
I prefer to knock on wood.
I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.
I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility
that existence has its own reason for being.

 Hear Amanda Palmer recite it here. 

Trevor

selection from Trevor
by Ocean Vuong

Trevor the hunter. Trevor the carnivore, the redneck, not

 a pansy, shotgunner, sharpshooter, not fruit or fairy. Trevor the meateater but not

veal. Never veal. Fuck that, never again after his daddy told him the story when he was seven, at the table, veal roasted with rosemary. How they were made. How the difference between veal & beef is the children. The veal are the children

of cows, are calves. They are locked in boxes the size of themselves. A body-box, like a coffin, but alive, like a home. The children, the veal, they stand very still because tenderness depends on how little the world touches you. To stay tender, the weight of your life cannot lean on your bones.

We love eatin what’s soft, his father said, looking dead

into Trevor’s eyes. Trevor who would never eat a child. Trevor the child with the scar on his neck like a comma. A comma you now

//

put your mouth to. That violet hook holding two complete thoughts, two complete bodies without subjects. Only verbs.


Read all of it here. 

Ode to Tax Payers

Ode to Tax Payers
By Carol Stahl

The kids are in school
the firemen fight fires
the bridges stand sturdy
the pot holes are filled
the hungry are fed.

Every April we show what we value.
Paying our taxes tells who we are.



 Found here, watch the author read it here.

Introduction to Poetry

Introduction to Poetry
by Billy Collins

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slid

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie a poem to a chair
with rope and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.


Found here.

Touched by an Angel

Touched by an Angel
Maya Angelou


We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.


Found here. 

The Return Of Odysseus

 The Return Of Odysseus by George Bilgere

When Odysseus finally does get home
he is understandably upset about the suitors,
who have been mooching off his wife for twenty years,
drinking his wine, eating his mutton, etc.
In a similar situation today he would seek legal counsel.
But those were different times. With the help
of his son Telemachus he slaughters roughly
one hundred and ten suitors
and quite a number of young ladies,
although in view of their behavior
I use the term loosely. Rivers of blood
course across the palace floor.

I too have come home in a bad mood.
Yesterday, for instance, after the department meeting,
when I ended up losing my choice parking spot
behind the library to the new provost.

I slammed the door. I threw down my book bag
in this particular way I have perfected over the years
that lets my wife understand
the contempt I have for my enemies,
which is prodigious. And then with great skill
she built a gin and tonic
that would have pleased the very gods,
and with epic patience she listened
as I told her of my wrath, and of what I intended to do
to so-and-so, and also to what's-his-name.

And then there was another gin and tonic
and presently my wrath abated and was forgotten,
and peace came to reign once more
in the great halls and courtyards of my house.


https://nerdfighteria.info/audio/dearhankandjohn/226031596

In the elementary school spelling bee

In the elementary school spelling bee

when you intentionally
misspelled heifer,
he almost had a cow.

You're the only kid
on your block
at school
in THE. ENTIRE. FREAKIN'. WORLD.
who lives in a prison
of words.
He calls it the pursuit of excellence.
You call it Shawshank.
And even though your mother
forbids you to say it,
the truth is
you
HATE
words.

From Kwame Alexander's novel in verse, Booked. Excerpted here.

In the Garden of Eden

IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN
Sheryl St. Germain

No one tells much about it,
but there were vultures in the Garden of Eden,
Turkey vultures, to be exact.
Dark eagles, they would soar like gods
voiceless, their wings held out in blessing,
their unfeathered heads the red jewels
of the sky of the garden.
They were vegetarian then.
There were no roadside kills,
no bones to pick, no dead flesh to bloom, ripen.
And they were happy.
They could not imagine
what they would become.


from her collection of poems: "How Heavy the Breath of God."
http://sheryl-stgermain.com/

Malheur Before Dawn

Malheur Before Dawn
William Stafford

An owl sound wandered along the road with me.
I didn’t hear it—I breathed it into my ears.

Little ones at first, the stars retired, leaving
polished little circles on the sky for awhile.

Then the sun began to shout from below the horizon.
Throngs of birds campaigned, their music a tent of sound.

From across a pond, out of the mist,
one drake made a V and said its name.

Some vast animal of sound began to rouse
from the reeds and lean outward.

Frogs discovered their national anthem again.
I didn’t know a ditch could hold so much joy.

So magic a time it was that I was both brave and afraid.
Some day like this might save the world.


http://williamstafford.org/broad/pages/malheur.html

If I can stop one heart from breaking

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

- Emily Dickenson

Found here.