Friday, December 31, 2010

A NEW YEAR’S SONNET

And so the firecrackers and the works
Will once again be lit to celebrate,
Amidst the popping of the champagne corks,
A new year’s birth and passing of the late

Old year, with thanks for all the good it gave.
The crackling fires, for one brief moment,
Upon the newborn sky they will engrave
A lightning lullaby and a dry lament

For broken resolutions and the scars
Of promises and pledges never kept
As bright-light displays burst and died like stars
While cinders, in the dark, quietly wept.

And so the extrovert night-sky explodes
While somewhere, silently, a soul implodes.

Copyright ©2010 by G. Newton V. Chance

Thursday, December 30, 2010

UNDER A SHADY SAMAAN TREE

Under a shady samaan tree,
A bluebird sang this song to me;
That love is nothing but a worm
To hold and squeeze until it squirms,
To snatch it firmly by the nape
Once caught, ensuring no escape;
To scratch the ground and look around,
Searching and searching till it's found;
Sharing it with a partner bird
While building nest to nurse a third;
A tiny fledgling in its egg
Will crack the world and find two legs
And then its wings to leave the warmth
Of home to seek its own sweet worm.

Copyright ©2010 by G. Newton V. Chance

Friday, December 24, 2010

ANOTHER YEAR

Another dawn, another day,
Another year has come and gone,
So quickly passed away;
Some things got done, some lost, some won,
Some things were left partly undone
And some things done halfway.

Another dawn, another day,
Another year was here and left,
Another page of history;
With some, bright cheer, some glad and gay,
Others, despair and some bereft
And life is still a mystery.

Another dawn, another day,
What will the new year bring;
The old confessed, the new resolve,
One more, one less, the spiral ring
Of age will bring... more trials
And many, many, blessings.

Copyright ©2010 by G. Newton V. Chance

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

ORCHID SEED

Grant me an ego, Lord, large as an orchid seed;
Humble me, let me wallow in humility.
With modesty, let me blossom like the lily,
Singing praises to the sun from a trampled field.

Save me from myself, Lord, from haughtiness and pride;
Remind me I am no more, neither am I less,
Than any other creature, here at your behest;
That I can do nothing without you at my side,

Sustaining me with every breath of spirit-charged
Air, vibrating inspiration deep within my soul.
Let me be your vessel, an overflowing bowl,
Brimful of contrition, and a heart with love enlarged.

Grant me an ego, Lord, large as an orchid seed;
Humble me, take from me every trace of vanity.
With modesty, let me blossom like the lily,
Singing praises all day long from a trampled field.

Make music with my id, Lord, like a woodwind reed,
With an ego even smaller than an orchid seed.

Copyright ©2010 by G. Newton V. Chance

Sunday, December 12, 2010

EL LOBO

Like a hungry, lonesome wolf
In the night,
My heart howls with desire
For you.

Copyright ©2010 by G. Newton V. Chance

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

I MISS THE BLIMP

I miss the blimp,
Its warm, assuring purr,
Whiskers trailing,
Waving, with smooth white fur,
Slowly traversing bloodshot, oppressed sky
Like some malevolent all-seeing eye
Or some demon of the Northern Range
Looking down upon a land so strange,
Inspiring confidence that crime
Would not only continue
But maybe, just maybe, kill you too,
Five to six hundred per year,
In a land so strange, of a million few,
A population in perpetual fear.
The blimp is gone
But the crime and murders go on and on...
And on and on...
Hold your head and bawl,
We have crime for all,
And then some to spare;
No paucity here,
Maybe a little poverty
And prices floating in the sky.
Let the nation mourn;
The blimp is gone
But the crime and killings go on and on...
And on and on...?

Copyright ©2010 by G. Newton V. Chance

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

SORREL

Blood-red, bright harbinger of this season
Of birth and hope of mankind's redemption;
As though you knew the Child would have to bleed
Myrrh, in another season of new seed,
Upon the cross to bear the brunt of sin;
To die and live again to give the pin
Of love and life to every wretched soul,
Willing to die of water and then live
To take the blessed cup of love He gives,
The Holy Sacrament that makes man whole.
Sorrel, so like the blood the Saviour bled,
His blood the wine, His flesh the holy bread,
"I am the Living Water" He once told
The Testament anew as was of old;
First wine, then loaves, the multitude He fed.
Rejoice and raise this red cup to your head.

Copyright ©2010 by G. Newton V. Chance
My photo
George Newton Vivian Chance (Trinidad and Tobago) -- member of the Poet Society of Trinidad and Tobago, http://poetssocietytt.blogspot.com/ and the World Poets Society, http://world-poets.blogspot.com/ -- born in Tobago on 3rd March 1957. While residing at Rio Claro was inspired to write over a hundred poems at the turn of the Millennium. Hobbies include playing wind instruments, building computers, observing nature, reading and writing poetry. Believes that the power of a song is in its ability to evoke emotions by the marriage of lyric and music but that music without lyric can be just as powerful, that lyric without music can also be just as powerful, that there is music in the lyric and that lyric can be simple yet profound. Also, in this the age of computers, would like to model his lines after simple and efficient code and, analogous to Object Oriented Programming, achieve most of his imagery from nouns and verbs, avoiding the bloat and excess of unnecessary adjectives. This is what he aspires to attain in his poetry.

I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older
than the flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.

I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy bosom turn
all golden in the sunset.

I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

by Langston Hughes

the poet writes the poem;
the reader gives it life
(© G. Newton V. Chance)
Make somebody happy (© Alexander Ligertwood & Carlos Santana)

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