Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares! Christopher Robin's been eaten by bears!

I find it interesting, if not fascinating (now that I think about it, which I never have before because the poem seemed so soppy) that Christopher Robin is praying for the same reason anybody else prays.

Fear.

It's interesting too just what he is afraid of, as is made evident in the second poem. 

Bears.

Why would A. A. Milne choose bears?

It seems obvious when you look at it. In putting his own small son at the centre of stories which made him wildly world-famous, he was throwing him to the bears, if not the wolves. 

Never mind that his Winnie the Pooh was a "silly old bear", a "bear of very little brain". He was still a bear. The "Lines and Squares" poem refers to them as "masses of bears", one of the most disturbing images I've read in a long time.

It's well-known that Christopher Robin Milne was relentlessly bullied in school for his fringe-haired Edwardian alter ego. In all the photos of him clutching his famous bear, he looks unutterably sad, even frightened. It's also been said that his appearance was altered to make him look more like the innocent Ernest Shepard illustrations, instead of the other way around. Get out the scissors, trim up that fringe! Think how that must have played out as he grew up and left tender childhood behind.

Why do people use their children that way? The same reason anyone uses anyone, I guess. Selfishness, ego, human ruthlessness, narcissistic disregard for the wellbeing of one's nearest and dearest. And in the case of writers, a single-minded and overwhelming desire to be famous.

To me, the most chilling lines in that whole chilling poem are:

"Mine has a hood, and I lie in bed

And I pull the hood right over my head

And I shut my eyes, and I curl up small,

And nobody knows that I'm there at all.

This sounds like someone who is hiding. Hiding from what? Bears, the boogeyman, God? His own father? Or is it from the fictional Christopher Robin, a menace so inescapable that he can't get away from him even in the safety of his own bed?

I AM A MIGHTY BATTLE SHIP by David West

After a long period of illness and near-incapacitation, David astounded me with one of his best poems, written only last night. He gave me permission to share it here. I am so hoping this will ignite more poems, as he has a unique voice, and is my closest friend.

I AM A MIGHTY BATTLE SHIP

YES. A mighty battle ship
Grey
Taken a lot of hits and near misses
Done some damage in return

My rudder cable is jammed
I travel by digression

Bunker oil marks my path
We are working to seal the leaks

It is a race against time
And tide

Two forward compartments
Are sealed by my order
Were filling with flood and screams of those left behind

I have counter-flooded to keep
The decks even at a level
No dramatic going down here

Yet there is no homecoming for us
No homeport to take refuge
and refit

Sooner or later we go under the cold dark waves
I’ll stand my watch,
I’ll not fear
For many before us have gone down
to meet the Old Grey Widow Maker

Constant as ocean, wind,
and tide

—David West

What is all this juice and all this joy?

Spring

Nothing is so beautiful as Spring –
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.

What is all this juice and all this joy?
A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden. – Have, get, before it cloy,
Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Pied Beauty: an animation

 

  

 

 

Two men named Bill (and other poems)

Blogger's note. It's been a while since I felt like sharing my poetry with anyone. Having it "rejected" - booted back in your face for decades - leaves scars. It is traumatic, as is hearing, several hundred times, "We really like your poetry, BUT. . . " 

One editor said, "I hate to turn away what might turn out to be the next best-seller, BUT. . . " (we don't think it has the quality we're looking for). That kind of casual cruelty disguised as compliment is nearly universal in publishing.

The horror of the Stephen Galloway affair ripped the veil off Canada's publishing Mafia, and I am now relieved I will never be a part of it (though I spent the better part of my life longing for it, jumping at it like a balloon that always popped up out of my reach).

It's not that I haven't been published at all. A dozen or so poems over that many years simply wasn't worth the grief. But here some of it is, mostly written a while ago. It means something to me. More than I can say. There's quite a bit of it here, because I've found in the past that if I do a Part 2, no one reads it.

I would say     

I would say that you are springtime,

That lambs

could not be lovelier: laughing bells

Of eyes bright with seeing,

the shining, shone of you.

I would say that you are a

Renaissance painting

of a beautiful woman:

So restored

that the paint gleams; its sheen

Fresh from the brush; its wetness

smelling new.

I would say that you are living

Water:  I see tiny

perfect selves, suspended

upside-down in the silver

Merriment of your eyes.

If true, then I would say that you are

Not my brother; but some other; some

me not yet thought of; next year’s

Reflection

cast lightly (God’s amusement)

over waters

rendered still.

                                                

Gina

sweet shy

dark girl          I’ve seen her

here before

  

she always wore the best clothes

(silvery things/bangles

feathered skirts

necklace made

from the teeth of a wolf)

  

now I see Gina in the ward

kitchen.        Still beautiful

big-eyed

part Cree                            her hair tied back

she shows me the tracings of

partly-healed               gashes

sewn back together in

a gridwork

                                                           hands/

on her arms,                                            wrists.

She must be twenty or so

No one comes to visit

Once she had a boyfriend

but he got sick too

  

                                                        

 Delivery

This is a strange

Horse I ride, feet

Pointing up, all bloodless and blue

On a long trail of ether.

My brain swims in a vault of chrome

through the removed murmur of voices

and a distant

Clinical clanking.

I will emerge now, slick and

purple as a baby.  The surgeon’s eyes

Crinkle over the mask.

Hands cool as paper, hands that have never

Handled a snake, patiently suture

All of my holes.  The work is true.

Emergency waiting room  

  

Which is worse:  the spilled

smell of

accidents

or the sound

of magazines

slowly

growing older

in this

ticking house of death?

  

                                           

Sorry

My heart unclasped

One day in your office,

Suddenly, all in a shot, the catch

Broke loose, andit

Fell behind a pile of files.

I did not mean to;

It was an accident of gravity.

Earth reached up and pulled it down.

I stood dizzy,

My centre lost, the core

Riven.  It felt silly

to lean over like that.

My face grew hot.

There was no way to put it back.

The space had grown over already;

The fall had changed me.

I left that place different,

Looked outside.  The light

Hurt my skin.  The world

was a new color.

I wiped my eyes, and kept on walking.

A small place

in my chest

Grew still with singing.

                                          

THREE-PART INVENTION

(a)     indigo eyes

I am the salt

you are the sweet

hair/

        My heartsprung

(horse) of the air,

au clair

ah! care,

           clover

to the/stables,

We.

     Drenched with the scent

of hens of hay

                   dear

of tree:  your/      odor

(of salt

(of sap

(of sea

b) cunningerotic

Lip, let me laugh

You.  Set the salt

           Sally, sashay down

               The hay of my mind.

                                            Seashorn,

                                      feverworn

                       hairborne:  Your

                         face a chiming, a

                                     Brining.  The

                                        (stainglassed

                                           seahorse

                                          of your

                                   (voicy

                                (ice

         

c)       Fifth chakra (for ray lynch)

a blues tunnel

blamed open

pitched down

to the base of the soul

                                                                 Mermaids spinning

                                  in your throat, Dear

                                                          heart:  shining vessel,

           

opened for a song,

shut open,

Wept for a penny

disabled

                      the               

             by / dreaming 

                  door

Love is no quick thing

(a halfsonnet/explanation)

Love is no quick thing, Saltstream surprise

Unevening your pearling teeth at dawn:

Quick!  like a foxglove/silvertail is gone,

It tips the world’s rude balance/wild surmise.

Inside my glands the trump of lovedoom cries;

with white kidgloves I’d pluck your soulstrings’ songs

(Inside my brain your lovebeat

dongs and dongs

dongs and dongs

dongs and dongs

                                                                                             and      dongs

                                                                                                                        dongs)                                                                                                                   

Saxophone (for Bill Prouten)

i don’t know who invented this

reflexive question mark of an instrument

but i think it was a good thing

for it’s great to look at,

with fat keys like frog eyes

and a big bell like royal jelly

you could keep flowers in there if you wanted to,

extra socks

or even a clock

Snakes kink too

and this sound is snakey

purply mauve as the deepest bruise

and raunchy

as a man in love

smoked as some cat of the night

disappearing over a fence

it makes leaps

(but only because it has to)

There is no

morning saxophone

this is a sound that

pulls the shades down

a hangover

howl

fading to twilight

or the blackmost

belly button

of the night

Few can wrap their lips around

this gooseneck

without some harm coming to them

for this is an instrument

with a long history of

hollowing out

all but the most hardy

Bird flew into a pane

of glass and was

smashed

we don’t know why it does this to people

(maybe it was mad at him

for taking it all to such extremes)

but how could you blow this thing

halfway

i ask you

how could you rear back

in some great pained whiplash of the spine

without a sense of

terrible commitment

i never much cared for

saxophones myself

until i heard one blown correctly at last

jazz is a genre i will never understand

but perhaps that’s good

for like the priesthood, one must enter into it

without question

reservation

or doubt

two men named bill

i love two men named Bill

and one of them is fancy

one is plain

i love one for his looks

the other for his brain

and when we are together

(and especially when not)

such yearning for his body

pulls apart

the art

of the life i’ve made

here in this patch of shade

one Bill plays the saxophone

the other Bill washes the floor

one writes songs and sucks on bongs

and one’s worth dying for

i’d run away with one Bill

but that doesn’t mean i’d have two

the laws of the world don’t work that way

i’d have to choose

or lose

both Bills

(which would kill

me.)

one Bill made two babies

one just made me rue

one Bill’s a restless bachelor boy

the other is painfully true

there are two

sets of eyes

one brown

one blue

four eyes i love so well:

see my soul reflected in the

searching blue

fall in cognac amber

‘til i drunken drown

i love two men

and both of them are Bill

there’s a cost to loving them

so well

when god presents his bill

i’ll have to pay my way

and choose

or lose

both Bills

(. . . which would kill

me.)

Gone west                                                         

It seems in my life I have always

moved west, New Brunswick, Alberta,

the boardwalk behind the Quay;

it’s a left-handed sort of life

driving me heartwards, though never,

no never,

heartwise.

                                           that day

when I thought I saw you/  on the boardwalk

my guts jumped:                       it

jerked the hook in my colon

(you always knew about bait)

You know how it was:    I wanted to stand on my desk

on the last day of classes

and shout:  o captain!  My captain!

But you had your own rotation – I saw

it reel from view, and

(helpless to catch you)

watched your spiralling apogee

What is the remotest segment of an orbit?

Booze, blondes.  Too much of

a good thing.  But I did love you.

We wandered, Pooh and Piglet in an

Escher maze, searching for heffalumps.

You calmly said, “Watch this,” and set fire

to my mind.

I saw you as the human yoyo, bobbing up and

                                                                   down,

sleeping, walking the dog, in and out

and ‘round the world.

I knew you’d be back, like hounds,

like a cycle of blood, like black

fruit springing into tree.  When the

string broke, I hid my eyes, and

said, but it’s only a lute,

it will heal itself,

half-hoping I was wrong.

I don’t know why or how God looks

after you, beached like Stanley’s whale,

stared at by the curious.  I don’t know

how God manages.  It was beyond me.

And so I kept on moving.

Valentine's Day: Cupid's revenge

I have a feeling the following ream of Valentine poetry was written by thirteen-year-old girls. Having spewed a few reams of it myself, I feel I must be charitable. Emily Dickinson it ain't, but at least this poetry is sincere. One of them sings the praises of Labrador and Newfoundland, which I heartily agree with. Many of the poems praise their love object's lips, fingertips, and physical features generally. And not all of them are written by girls.

I was a little disappointed at the fairly-regular rhyme and meter schemes in these. The truth is, they're really a little too good. But they have a certain charm, a sweetness that made them worthy of a Valentine post of their own. And how can these lines be surpassed for sheer emotional honesty?:

If you don't be my Valentine
I'm sure I'll have to cry
If you won't be my Valentine
I'll look at you and sue

I have one beef, however - a big one. One of the poetesses here shamelessly signs her name to a classic poem by Dorothy Parker (One Perfect Rose). Whether this was meant as quote, tribute, or outright theft will never be known. Oh well. We DO say "she stole my heart", don't we? From that, it's a short step to "she stole my poem". And now that I look more carefully, someone else is "quoting" from the  old song, "More (than the greatest love the world has known)". But it's Valentine's Day. Let's pin a big red heart on all our transgressions.

Love Poems

Valentine Postman

If I could be a postman
For just one single time,
I'd choose to carry valentines
so lovely and so fine.
I would not mind the heavy load,
Or mind my tired feet.
If I could scatter happiness
up and down the street.

Unknown

A Valentine for You

Valentines, valentines,
Pink, red and blue,
I've made a pretty one
Just for you!

Unknown

A Valentine

Today as Valentines go out,
To people near and far,
This one I'm sending right to you,
To say how nice you are.

Unknown

Bee My Valentine

Won't you bee my valentine
And fly away with me?
We'll bumble along together
'Cause you're my Honey Bee!

Unknown

~Valentine's Day~

The Arrow strikes the Heart
Never to be torn apart
It is when feelings blossom and more
The heart which heals by the Bandage of love and cure
Roses, chocolates, cakes and some of the gifts in line
just some of the things to make a Perfect Valentine.
The hidden feelings of a heart that reveals
The boat of love which smoothly sails
How fortunate are those who enjoy this day
That is the time when one is lost 

In the world of fantasy without any cost
The day when Cupid plays an Immense role
To provoke feelings in a Lifeless Soul.

Pamela Daranjo

Secrets

I have secrets that I hide
I want to tell you, but they come from so deep inside
I want to tell you that I love you and care
I want to tell you that I love your hair
your smile, your face and your kindness too
but most of all, I want to say I love you

Kendra

Valentine

Love is precious
Love is sweet
Love is something
you cannot cheat

Love is kind
Love is not lust
Love is special
its all about trust

Love is for me
Love is for you
Love is a couple
turns one to two

Love is yours
Love is mine
Love is ours
BE MY VALENTINE

Lilly Mae

when I saw you...

when I first saw you
I missed the comfort of being sad
seeing you from far away
without telling you about my heart
I couldn't bare holding my thoughts
about how much I would like
to hold you and fill you with joy
when I first saw you,
I knew my love for you was never going to die.

vanessa rodriguez

Will you be my valentine?

Will you be my Valentine?
I love you with all my heart.
Will you be my Valentine?
So we'll never be torn apart
If you don't be my Valentine
I'm sure I'll have to cry
If you won't be my Valentine
I'll look at you and sue
But if you be my Valentine
I'll throw you a big parade
And then just maybe I'll have to shout
HIP HIP HOORAY!!!!!!!!!!

Stephanie Morrow

Venus and Cupids

Oh Venus and Cupids picture of love
shining upon the stars above
for thee who had melted the hurts
and made them love for better or for worst

Oh Venus and Cupids I all summon you
to help me make my dreams come true
and to make this girl love me too
so I wouldn't forever be blue...

Sherwin

Daydreaming

Your eyes are alive and oh so blue.
I see you but I'm unknown to you.
Maybe one day you'll see my face.
You’ll know it's me, I'm in a daze.
If ever you saw me standing there...
No never mind why should you care
I see your smile inside my head
so clear to me and I forget
why I'm always feeling blue
every time I think of you.
These things have all been said before
so I'll stop here and say no more.

Sara

The Way I Feel

It has been awhile since we last met,
but your smile my heart can never forget.
Now I try to find just the right words to say,
to tell you how I feel each and everyday.
However, my heart cannot seem to explain just how I feel,
but I hope you believe me when I say my love is real.
I pray that you feel that way I do
and hope you will tell me you feel the same way too.
When I looked into your eyes it took my breath away,
and I hope to God that I will be looking into them
until I am old and gray

Lucy

The first and last

From the first time I laid eyes on you to the last kiss on my lips,
the first time I felt your soft finger tips,
the way you held me tight, made love to me at night,
always seemed to me that in my heart
that you would see a person as loving as me
someone whose heart is true
someone just like you...
Now I sit here all alone nothing but me
and my thoughts of you all through my mind.
As if I could turn back the hands of time
to the moment when your soft lips touched mine

I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry... 

Baby, I do try
I love you and I do know why...

Gerald Lemire (Binky)

Valentines Day

Valentines is very near
Balloons, bears, and candy grahams.
Red, Black, Pink, and White
Are the colors that girls really like.
Roses can be red and violets can be blue.
What else can they prove to you
how much they love you
On this Valentines Day!!

Ashley

More

More than the Greatest love the world have ever known
This is the love I give to you alone
more than the simple words I try to say
I only love you more each day
Longer than always is a long time
but far beyond forever you'll be mine
I know I’ve never lived before
and my heart is very sure no one else
can love you more!

Jeanine

Valentine

oh, you are so fine
so want you be mine
oh, my sweet valentine
your eyes are the color of honey
and your braids long like ropes
oh, would you be
my sweet valentine!

Victoria

be mine

the smile that cleanses my soul
the eyes that stop time with a single glance
the touch of love from his hands
I’ve been waiting for this day
this special time
all I can do is pray
for you to be my Valentine

Christina Occhipinti

Night is falling

Night is falling my heart is calling
I feel so lonely I need you only
but I’ve got a teddy that I take to bed
if you'll be my Valentine
I’ll take you instead

Jenni-lea

if I’d wish to be anything

If I could wish to be anything
I’d wish to be your tear
to be conceived by your heart,
born in your eye
live on your cheek
and die on your lips

stephanie mcfarlane

Kisses

Kisses Kisses Kisses,
Oh, what should I do?
All I want is just one Kiss,
From a special person like you.

Brenna Copley

break up on valentines

On Valentines we broke up
Your friends said it was wrong
But you didn't believe them
Until you heard our song
Maybe you will love me
like I loved you
But I won't give you another chance
Because I won't know if it's really true

Lana

Hearts and flowers

Hearts and flowers on Valentine’s day.
heart shaped candy, help me say:
I Love you in a special way,
because love is the reason for Valentine’s day.
Valentine’s day is a special time
for songs to sing
and poems that rhyme,
a happy time for everyone.
I’m so glad you're a friend of mine

newfoundland and labrador rule

Kelly Russell

such a short time

When I first saw your face I knew you were mine
We have both grown to love each other in such a short time
you know I’ve been looking for you all my life
for the day when I become your wife
you have given me security and love
which I’ve only ever dreamed of
I know there is a heaven and dreams do come true
someone up there loves me
because they sent me
YOU

amanda perkins

My Valentine

I crave your honesty on this day of love,
L ove you whole-heartedly my sweet dove.
O ut of the blue you shot from the sky,
V ividly, beautifully stunning my eye.
E ver adoring you is what I do best,
Y our smile, your face and all the rest.
O n days like these I truly believe,
U and I are meant to be!

Dedicated To Daniel Vigil!

Crystal L. Callaway

love

Love is more time to share.
It’s really when you care.
It’s two people joined.
I was in love with you
before you could drop a coin.
It’s a sense of trust,
but not enough lust
It’s a commitment to be there,
but would you always be there
to share and care?

monique

One Perfect Rose

A single flower he sent me ,since we met
all tenderly his messenger he chose;
deep-hearted, pure with scented dew
still wet
one perfect rose.
I knew the language of the flower
"my fragile leaves ,it said
his heart enclose"
love long has taken for his locket
one perfect rose.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet
one perfect limousine,
do you suppose?
Ah, no it’s always just my luck to get
one perfect rose

monia jackson

baby brow eyes

Baby brown eyes your eyes so brown,
hair so light,
you make the sun shine bright,
your eyes bring many warm things.
I love you baby girl
for always when you were born
and came in our lives,
you are the baby brown eyes
that we love day or night,
we love you always.

judy shaw

One good try

For so long, I’ve had my eye on this girl
She's the most beautiful woman in the world

If that’s what you’re thinking, give it an attempt
Don’t be so scared that she would resent

why not give it one good try?
just to let her know you’re alive

Schick

sea

If all the women lived over sea
what good swimmers, you Emen, would be
if all the women lived over sea
that would leave you for me

Bethany