MAP
#85
Theme:
Second Generation, Part 2
II.
Featured Poetry Theme: 2nd generation, part 2: poems by offspring of
poets
1.
Salamander by Claire Rattan
One
day I caught a salamander.
I
remember the last time
I
travelled to this wonderful place.
Thousands
of acres of forest, with
a
quiet solemn river snaking through it.
The
salamander I really liked
was
the fattest one of them all.
For
a long time, I couldn't name him.
Then
I thought of a short name. I called him
Fatso.
But
I already knew he wouldn't be here
very
long, and I would never see him again.
It
felt so bad that if I had stayed
near
the river where I caught him any longer,
I
was going to cry.
So
I went back to the cabin
to
roast marshmallows
by
the fire.
I
never saw Fatso again.
But
he is there, near the river.
I
know it.
Claire
Rattan
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
2.
Untitled by Rebekah Coleman
Sylvie
Claire is made of glass
frail
and vulnerable alas
she
cannot hide her feelings,
conceal
them with words
she
cannot hide a cracked heart
her
every thought is heard
as
open as we try to be
she
was real
real
was she
Though
she would try to play along,
would
try to run and dance
she
couldn't help but be as real
as
real as fate and chance
Oh
she tried to close her eyes
oh
to see life right
but
she couldn't change the way she saw,
could
not conform her sight
Through
her window she would see
normal
children made of clay
the
children who could fake their way
the
child she couldn't be
Poor
Sylvie-Claire the child we've made
the
girl we'd like to be
the
tragic child made of glass
the
child we cannot see.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
3.
Element (son of Valerie Bridgeman Davis)
The
quote is that, "Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts
absolutely."
And
so fitting,
I
am happy in a world where happiness is not allowed,
lawlessness
is the law,
and
Bill Clinton is my role model because he screws the girls I don't
have the balls to, and otherwise could not have
in
an office that has the top security this side of the world.
Children
of children who are my generation
are
impressed that I can spell the word damn let alone say it without
restraint.
And
the hustler's bail-out replaces the repentance of the Lord's Prayer.
But,
"oh, we don't own the ships, We just ride 'em to hell."
So,
O.K.. I give you that the reason for the first time was against
will,
but
the second trip and the journeys after?
Not
willingly?
No.
You see, hell follows its tenants:
A
self induced playground that is admittedly standardized by the
speakers of the wordplay.
"Repeat
after me children!
You
will never amount to anything!
And
what you do amount to will mistaken for success!"
But
what is success except what the corrupted public deems it so?:
6
figures divided by
three
virtues to make two kids minus
one
digit of morals to match the cars times
one
corruption of one spirit in correspondence to the German Shepherd and
the cat
And
finally,
minus
one chance to spiritual acceptance to equal the one-way ticket to...
RIO
DE JASATAN, eternal damnation, or
if
you prefer for p.c.,hell.
Do
the math. This is the corrupted success of the world,
instead
of the personal mind that fits the bill,
a
body that reaches the goal,
and
deserved happiness in a world where happiness is not allowed.
This
is the purified success of the spirit. The spirit:
A
reality that has failed to be mentioned in a reality where desires
come before morals.
Currency
is God.
Guns
and angered fists are Michael.
And
the creator of bad news, AKA the media, is Gabriel.
(The
soot ridden reflection of the Holy Disparity.)
Sons
are dying at the same time as their fathers.
Daughters
become mothers at the same time as their mothers.
And
the story is being told without the moral to it.
So
here it goes:
The
quote is that, "Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts
absolutely."
So
absolutely there will never be an absolute poet.
And
as a poet, for however long this poem is and will be,
I
have abused the right to have you listen.
For
2 to 3 minutes you have listened to the most potent dose of
corruption;
And
you listen with intent because the words that defile, which all
speak----
Are
the power that corrupts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
4.
My Gift From God by Adam Daniel Rice
I
lay in bed at night
and
wonder, who is this girl
and
how does she possess
such
grace and beauty.
Such
elegance far exceeds
that
of any other.
Her
body, the stars.
Her
face, the sun.
So
bright and beauteous
as
to damage the eyes
when
looked upon.
She
kisses me, as if
her
lips are solid gold.
She
lays her lips upon mine;
me
being the inconstant gold miner
that
finally struck it rich.
And
such a height as heaven
to
fall from.
And
she, having endured the fall,
wears
the face of a bright angel,
sent
from God
to
make me the happiest
man
in the world.
Ask
me of my love tomorrow,
and
I shall say,
“She
is my gift from God
and
I shall never be unsatisfied.”
for
Brittany
by
Adam Daniel Rice
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THE
SKY by Connor Douglas Rice
I.
The
rain and the clouds are so nice,
and
everything is just the same,
but
the sky is just so beautiful
when
the sun rises and sets.
The
sky blinks from the rain
and
the dark, then I blink back
and
I notice it’s all art.
II
I
love the sky, it’s so blue.
When
I look at it, I love it for you.
It
makes all your dreams come true
and
then I can take your proof
of
the whole world and prove it for you.
Then
in the summertime I see
that
everything is the same
that
the sky is the same,
but
it’s really real now
in
your dreams.
III
I
love the sky, it’s so beautiful,
it’s
so full, but when I look around
I
see the truth, it makes me
want
to look at you.
IV
The
trees I love,
but
in the sky so blue,
when
I look at the sky,
it
really makes me want to cry.
The
sky is so deep,
it’s
so, so blue,
then
I look at you.
by
Connor Douglas Rice, 3/15/98
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
5.
LUKIE'S FIRST POEM by Jean Russell
Eyes
Nose
Mouth
Grandma
Ball
Light
Door
Grandma
Dog
Moon
Grandma
Grandma!
(from
jean russell)