James Kavanaugh - Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves

THERE ARE MEN TOO GENTLE TO LIVE AMONG WOLVES
A Poem by James Kavanaugh

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who prey upon them with IBM eyes
And sell their hearts and guts for martinis at noon.
There are men too gentle for a savage world
Who dream instead of snow and children and Halloween
And wonder if the leaves will change their color soon.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who anoint them for burial with greedy claws
And murder then for a merchant's profit and gain.
There are men too gentle for a corporate world
Who dream instead of candied apples and ferris wheels
And pause to hear the distant whistle of a train.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves.
Who devour them with eager appetite and search
For other men to prey upon and suck their childhood dry.
There are men too gentle for an accountant's world
Who dream instead of Easter eggs and fragrant grass
And search for beauty in the mystery of the sky.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who toss them like a lost and wounded dove.
Such gentle men are lonely in a merchant's world.
Unless they have a gentle one to love.

Emotions Make for Bloody Poetry!

Yesterdays deeds descend on raptors wings

talons flare and slice into my mind

tearing through the carefully constructed facade of hope

i bleed, into tomorrow

ancestoral wounds reopen with vengence

defecting logic and maming reason

proclaiming the torment of self loathing valid

i bleed, drip with sorrow

(re-post from some time in 2002)

A Poem About Hiking - Feelings and Emotions

Hiking It Off

The earth under foot

Passes

Thought fades into

Absence

Embraces singularity

Feels

Effortless striding

Forth

Coming homeward

Bound

Less of me resting

Heavy

Burdens dripping

Soaking

Into the soil beneath

Me

IF, by Rudyard Kipling

One of my favorite, all time poems is "If" by Rudyard Kipling. I was introduced to this verse early in life, and the words have always challenged me to be more, risk boldly and balance my living more evenly between the elation and despair dished out by life's moments. Enjoy (for those of you would are "Pinterested" - I've included an image below).

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:


If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:


If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'


If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!


-Rudyard Kipling

Source: media.photobucket.com via Kim on Pinterest

In From The Sea - Poetry Repost

When the wind blows in from the sea you can hear the

crackle of palm fronds breaking free from the heat
hiss of sea oats defiantly bowing inland
whisper of sand celebrating its lofty release from gravity
sputter of foam cascading skyward cut from wave caps
chimes of delicate shells dancing across dunes

When the wind blows in from the sea you can hear the
prayers of ancient mariners reaching home.

Poetry Re-Post: Entanglement

By the last micro thread of the spider’s web
Hanging
In a delicate balancing between desire to be free
From the casket of this cocoon
And to be safe from the fall to the ground

How came I upon this entanglement
But by little things, single threads of erroneous
Actions
Quiet discontentment resting feather-light
Clinging unassumingly to the sleeve of my façade

Until

Movement through my own self
Became hindered and slowly, progressed to
Halting proportions lost in one immobile
Case
Suspended by the last filament of my attachment

To you

(originally posted 1/9/09)

Airport Waiting

While the air roars overhead
Methodical. Arrhythmic. Pulsing.
While the seconds tick away
Tick. Tock. Humming.
While cars stop and go
Lights on. Lights off. Horns.
While I await your arrival
I don't dare breath until
Your touch down
Into my heart
Again

A Poem About Friendship

No Space Among Us

words anxiously spoken

falling upon one another

incessant

cascade

                full

pounding down

rocky words

after a while the constant sound

is

numbing

speech without pause

between thoughts

leaving

no gap for new ideas

reminding us of the precious

gems

of silence

between friends

________________________

Award Notice

Thank You to The Poetry Palace for the Perfect Poet Award, Week 54.

I nominate Paige for the next award.

Announcing Word Wednesday

Starting this week, I'll be adding a weekly themed post, Word Wednesday, to Kim's Korner.

The post will focus on a fun word (perhaps commonly known, but seldom used), the definition and some playful writing based on the understanding or misunderstanding of that word!

I hope you will join us for Word Wednesday - starting this week!

The Gut of It - A Thought in Stanzas

Get to the gut of it, that tight, twisting, acidic scream of the belly
There you will find you and the you that longs to be more
Pain demands change...limits, contorts and defines

She always loved me, to a fault
When it hurt inside I could depend on her, her compliments, her advocacy, her mothering
The pain would always go, run out with laughter or perspective, or distraction

It's not her fault I could never love myself, to a fault

There is the gut of it
Loving oneself through the faults