Interactive Social Network with hours of Visual Poetry for YOU to enjoy for FREE. http://www.poetryvisualized.com By Paul Laurence Dunbar ‘T was three an’ thirty year ago, When I was ruther young, you know, I had my last an’ only fight About a gal one summer night. ‘T was me an’ Zekel Johnson; Zeke ‘N’ me ‘d be’n spattin’ ’bout a week, Each of us tryin’ his best to show That he was Liza Jones’s beau. We could n’t neither prove the thing, Fur she was fur too sharp to fling One over fur the other one An’ by so doin’ stop the fun That we chaps did n’t have the sense To see she got at our expense, But that’s the way a feller does, Fur boys is fools an’ allus was. An’ when they’s females in the game I reckon men’s about the same. Well, Zeke an’ me went on that way An’ fussed an’ quarrelled day by day; While Liza, mindin’ not the fuss, Jest kep’ a-goin’ with both of us, Tell we pore chaps, that’s Zeke an’ me, Was jest plum mad with jealousy. Well, fur a time we kep’ our places, An’ only showed by frownin’ faces An’ looks ‘at well our meanin’ boded How full o’ fight we both was loaded. At last it come, the thing broke out, An’ this is how it come about. One night (’t was fair, you’ll all agree) I got Eliza’s company, An’ leavin’ Zekel in the lurch, Went trottin’ off with her to church. An’ jest as we had took our seat (Eliza lookin’ fair an’ sweet), Why, I jest could n’t help but grin When Zekel come a-bouncin’ in As furious as the law allows. He ‘d jest be’n up to Liza’s house, To find her gone, then come to church To have this end put to his search. I guess I laffed that meetin’ through, An’ not a mortal word I knew Of what the preacher preached er read Er what the choir sung er said. Fur every time I ‘d turn my head I could n’t skeercely help but see ‘At Zekel had his eye on me. An’ he ‘ud sort o’ turn an’ twist An’ grind his teeth an’ shake his fist. I laughed, fur la! the hull church seen us, An’ knowed that suthin’ was between us. Well, meetin’ out, we started hum, I sorter feelin’ what would come. We ‘d jest got out, when up stepped Zeke, An’ said, “Scuse me, I ‘d like to speak To you a minute.” “Cert,” said I— A-nudgin’ Liza on the sly An’ laughin’ in my sleeve with glee, I asked her, please, to pardon me. We walked away a step er two, Jest to git out o’ Liza’s view, An’ then Zeke said, “I want to know Ef you think you ‘re Eliza’s beau, An’ ‘at I ‘m goin’ to let her go Hum with sich a chap as you?” An’ I said bold, “You bet I do.” Then Zekel, sneerin’, said ‘at he Did n’t want to hender me. But then he ‘lowed the gal was his An’ ‘at he guessed he knowed his biz, An’ was n’t feared o’ all my kin With all my friends an’ chums throwed in. Some other things he mentioned there That no born man could no ways bear Er think o’ ca’mly tryin’ to stan’ Ef Zeke had be’n the bigges’ man In town, an’ not the leanest runt ‘At time an’ labor ever stunt. An’ so I let my fist go “bim,” I thought I ‘d mos’ nigh finished him. But Zekel did n’t take it so. He jest ducked down an’ dodged my blow An’ then come back at me so hard, I guess I must ‘a’ hurt the yard, Er spilet the grass plot where I fell, An’ sakes alive it hurt me; well, It would n’t be’n so bad, you see, But he jest kep’ a-hittin’ me. An’ I hit back an’ kicked an’ pawed, But ‘t seemed ‘t was mostly air I clawed, While Zekel used his science well A-makin’ every motion tell. He punched an’ hit, why, goodness lands, Seemed like he had a dozen hands. Well, afterwhile they stopped the fuss, An’ some one kindly parted us. All beat an’ cuffed an’ clawed an’ scratched, An’ needin’ both our faces patched, Each started hum a different way; An’ what o’ Liza, do you say, Why, Liza—little humbug—dern her, Why, she ‘d gone home with Hiram Turner. http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/3611/The_Rivals/ http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/3611/The_Rivals/ You ain't no monk sitting in a pagoda http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/3484/I_Ain't_Yer_Jedi~_You_Ain't_My_Yoda/ http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/3484/I_Ain't_Yer_Jedi~_You_Ain't_My_Yoda/ http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2574/fixer-upper/ http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2574/fixer-upper/ Vast kingdoms once did span this shrinking sphere. One monarch bold a million men could rule. To teach the dumb, protect the poor from fear, to sow these seeds, a scepter was his tool. If I could have an empire of my friends to aid and guide, the happiness I'd find. I'd plant and reap a love that never ends and hoard it in the coffers of my mind. But now I see my gifts were bribes, not seeds. Good will was to enslave you, not to free. I am a tyrant out of fear and greed. From loneliness it is that I aggress. Your solitude was never poverty. It is my bounty that is barrenness. http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2099/VAST_KINGDOMS_ONCE_DID_SPAN_THIS_SHRINKING_SPHERE/ http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2099/VAST_KINGDOMS_ONCE_DID_SPAN_THIS_SHRINKING_SPHERE/ I've met the virtuous and they are rare and many others seem so, but are not. (Their words are cool and yet their blood runs hot to feed the lust beneath that pious air). I'd like to think I try, like most, to do the right things. Carnal motives you can tell in words and deeds. They have their place as well. (Have fun and yet be good). And then there's you. The rumor has it you sure get about, so fast and loose and free (I hear you love to flirt with old or young, a girl or boy) but in the end, somehow you don't put out. Why die, dear, with the reputation of a whore and never really know the joy? http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2041/TO_AN_UNCOY_MISTRESS/ http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2041/TO_AN_UNCOY_MISTRESS/ Now everything is cool. We're at that stage when trust, respect feel sure. We sense a link in struggle, pain and hope. As we engage things fall in place, we think in sync. But some day I am going to let you down and then you'll feel betrayed. I'll be too late. I'll fib, put myself first. You'll see a frown. Will I then be the focus of your hate? As best I can I pledge you truth and vow to you, within fair limits, to be near. Least friendly I will need you most. Hear now: I'm fallible. I'm flawed. Be brave with me. Be clear. Forgive me. Treasures lie beyond. I claim I will forgive you when I feel the same. http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2039/TO_A_NEW_FRIEND/ http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2039/TO_A_NEW_FRIEND/ I can't forgive myself for feeling trapped. Resentments grow. This isn't what I planned. My faith begins to fade. I can't adapt. I slither off from where I used to stand. My old convictions simply do not fit. It think it's time for me to slink away. Campaigns and hobbies, tasks I have to quit, abandon games and music I don't play. It's time to throw out worn out clothes. It's time to toss old books and odds and ends. To free myself of tastes and creeds all goes. It's time to shuck off relatives and friends. It's not betrayal or fear of what's ahead. So I'm a snake. Well, this one's got to shed. http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2036/TIME_FOR_A_CHANGE/ http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2036/TIME_FOR_A_CHANGE/ I later heard she almost died. Although she didn't try to keep the fact from me, the how and how come wasn't mine to know. My feelings weren't her first priority. So when I heard, I had the time to think. I didn't see her, call-- as I was bid. Another time I might have forced a link. She didn't want my help, yet help I did. Musicians read staff measures scanning notes. The order, tempo, volume, are displayed. A rest is more than silence. It devotes a value, beat, a presence still conveyed. My absence, silence, were not crass neglect. They proved my love, support, - trust, respect. http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2009/THE_REST/ http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2009/THE_REST/ How strong it is, this feeling of regret, You long to see the lands and loves you've known. (For Eden's flowers fade if you forget) In dreams you may return, but wake alone. Yes, now I know why great Ulysses wept While searching for his love, his home, his throne. Back where our timeless isle of time is kept, Each moment you've remolded to renew. When sailing back this new tale you accept, For though you can't touch it, it touches you. Not being, but becoming life was then. Yet with our hindsight pain need not return. In gilded tales we don't recall again How bonded rough our souls we had to earn. A natural instinct makes all quick things thrive. But mortals also grow from strife to learn That caustic conflict each one must survive Ere parents' loving lessons have begun. Much is betrayed and lost ere we arrive Where we are briefly wise and round and one. The past is purged and saved forevermore. (Regret like hope sees what it wants to see) Yet, while our painful past we still ignore, From grief our great romance is not set free. For chance, which forged us one, tore us apart. Alone we drift as on an empty sea. Except for dreaming, no course can we chart To bring our Eden isle back into view. And worse, the rumors rise to pierce my heart: No longer are my friends the friends I knew. The dreams that drift us close to Eden's shore May tug us to the Island of the Dead Where men must face the darkness they abhor. There great Ulysses took a young ewe's head And severed it in two with his whet blade; Just so my brain is lanced, pierced to the core As conscience stabs and churns my memory. From that appears a gathering of shade. The nightmare of my mind is now set free. Before me fearful faces form and fade Whom I can't touch, but chill as they touch me. From cloudy apparitions made of mist Arise the countless souls I never knew. Those wronged (by chance ne'er righted) can't resist To drink the blood still dripping from the ewe. Next icy spirits form to taunt and scold, Past foes they are who hurt me and still do. Yet worse the silent figures I behold Whom thoughtlessly I harmed by act or slur. And frigid shadows round my form enfold: My friends as they are now, not as they were. But none of these can help to ease the strife, When ghostly visions of myself appear. Evolving emblems of each novel-life Torment my mind. For in each one I fear To see the tender souls I did betray, The clinging flaws that even now adhere. The foolish dreams and deeds will not decay, Not if they hold a truth that I can see. While others drink from river Lethe and stay I taste the bitter Pool of Memory. A natural numbness eases all the pain, Like waking from a dream no more afraid. Preserve the tales if memories still remain (Then never will the rose and lilac fade) But when the ghosts come, listen as they speak: "At home a sailor never could have stayed.” “New lands, new bonds, new moments each must seek And if it need be conflict to induce.” “To learn, to grow, to strengthen what is weak And always with oneself to seek a truce." Add a caption THE MYTH OF MEMORY: an ode . ` How strong it is, this feeling of regret, You long to see the lands and loves you've known. (For Eden's flowers fade if you forget) In dreams you may return, but wake alone. Yes, now I know why great Ulysses wept While searching for his love, his home, his throne. Back where our timeless isle of time is kept, Each moment you've remolded to renew. When sailing back this new tale you accept, For though you can't touch it, it touches you. Not being, but becoming life was then. Yet with our hindsight pain need not return. In gilded tales we don't recall again How bonded rough our souls we had to earn. A natural instinct makes all quick things thrive. But mortals also grow from strife to learn That caustic conflict each one must survive Ere parents' loving lessons have begun. Much is betrayed and lost ere we arrive Where we are briefly wise and round and one. The past is purged and saved forevermore. (Regret like hope sees what it wants to see) Yet, while our painful past we still ignore, From grief our great romance is not set free. For chance, which forged us one, tore us apart. Alone we drift as on an empty sea. Except for dreaming, no course can we chart To bring our Eden isle back into view. And worse, the rumors rise to pierce my heart: No longer are my friends the friends I knew. The dreams that drift us close to Eden's shore May tug us to the Island of the Dead Where men must face the darkness they abhor. There great Ulysses took a young ewe's head And severed it in two with his whet blade; Just so my brain is lanced, pierced to the core As conscience stabs and churns my memory. From that appears a gathering of shade. The nightmare of my mind is now set free. Before me fearful faces form and fade Whom I can't touch, but chill as they touch me. From cloudy apparitions made of mist Arise the countless souls I never knew. Those wronged (by chance ne'er righted) can't resist To drink the blood still dripping from the ewe. Next icy spirits form to taunt and scold, Past foes they are who hurt me and still do. Yet worse the silent figures I behold Whom thoughtlessly I harmed by act or slur. And frigid shadows round my form enfold: My friends as they are now, not as they were. But none of these can help to ease the strife, When ghostly visions of myself appear. Evolving emblems of each novel-life Torment my mind. For in each one I fear To see the tender souls I did betray, The clinging flaws that even now adhere. The foolish dreams and deeds will not decay, Not if they hold a truth that I can see. While others drink from river Lethe and stay I taste the bitter Pool of Memory. A natural numbness eases all the pain, Like waking from a dream no more afraid. Preserve the tales if memories still remain (Then never will the rose and lilac fade) But when the ghosts come, listen as they speak: "At home a sailor never could have stayed.” “New lands, new bonds, new moments each must seek And if it need be conflict to induce.” “To learn, to grow, to strengthen what is weak And always with oneself to seek a truce." http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/1992/THE_MYTH_OF_MEMORY_AN_ODE/ http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/1992/THE_MYTH_OF_MEMORY_AN_ODE/ What primal pulse propels the starry dust to fill the seeming void? Throughout the vast expanding universe that vibrant gust elates, enthralls all in its bursting blast. What constant converse power counteracts that outward thrust? What vigor tugs and turns each atom back? The weight of mass attracts, as each to every other likewise yearns. Your wisdom (flash of particle or wave) excites, impels us, spinning into space-- clear-sighted, joyous, resolute, and brave. Your dignity, compassion, kindness, grace, your gaze, your smile compels us just to be at peace within your hugging gravity. http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/1990/MY_THEORY_OF_YOU/ http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/1990/MY_THEORY_OF_YOU/