Best Edna Poems
Seductively symetrical in form and presence
She calls it Eve, I call it sepia political
Aroused motherhood of nation, a glamorous sense
Of identity, modern and yet mystical
Naked as a morning, smooth as silk dreams
She looks back, not histantly, nor curiously
Profiled the hidden breast, in streams
Of provocativeness, the right hand assertively
Shouldered on the fallen curtain of hair
Lefting hand coming down where the stare
Of vulgar eyes would fall, stripped of history
But not of dignity, the umbilical memory
Cradlles a lascivious eye against the dark skin
Woman bounteous with beginnings, sister, kin.
Edna Manley
Eve (Ceremonial Dance)
Edna Manley (1900 – 1987) studied art at Central St. Martins School of Art in London
alongside fellow sculptors Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth. Her artistic career began by
sculpting clay models of animals but she made her reputation as a wood carver. During her
life she became known as the Mother of Jamaican Art, and claimed that it was in Jamaica
where she found both her subjects and materials. The sculpture 'Eve' (1929) was presented
to the Graves Art Gallery in Sheffield by the artist herself in 1937. .
Categories:
edna, politicalart, art,
Form:
Ekphrasis
Poetess Edna St. Vincent Millay
Was different for the times they say
Her lyrical works opened thought ray
Touching my very mind, heart this day
Contest: One single four line
End Rhyme Either Of aaaa,
abab,abba
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Categories:
edna, on writing and words
Form:
Rhyme
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Not choosy about person's sex when she played
Nor age of the person with whom she lay
However, her poetry brightens my day
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Contest: Seeking A Fresh Crop Of Clerihew
Categories:
edna, funny,
Form:
Clerihew
What better name for one who'd analyze
and scrutinize the sources of logomachy,
a philosopher who filters truth from lies,
our building blocks, the seat of etiology.
A thinker's thinker, one who ponders well
the implications of a life-long gleaning,
composed of and comprises, just a single cell
in her journey to examine every meaning.
Though new expressions find their way to dictionaries,
they bastardize, dilute the power of language,
'snuck' instead of 'sneaked,' no real propensities
to offer something better, (tawdry verbiage!)
To communicate with skill, singular fluency
takes savoir faire, a knack for etymology.
********
...meant as a love sonnet to a dear friend.
Categories:
edna, dedication,
Form:
Sonnet
I am terrified I will die, Wesley said. It is raining.
Rain does not usually kill people, I replied.
But lightning can, and thunder is scary.
Lightning has never hit me, I replied.
It will probably get me, he said. His teeth were shaking.
He had been raised by a worst-scenario activist.
Everything she says usually includes the worst possibility imaginable.
She is my Aunt Edna, and this is the way she talks.
I would go to the store, but the roof could cave in.
I would vacuum the rug, but I might stir up allergens.
There might be black mold under there, vacuuming could kill us.
Her husband had escaped years ago.
I always wish he had taken my cousin Wesley with him.
Wesley is afraid of tornadoes, trains, clowns, hearts and bicycles.
He could possibly die from getting a scratch from a nail or eating walnuts.
I do not know if he is allergic to walnuts, or if he does not like them.
Wesley and his weirdo mother, my aunt, go to church all the time.
Praying they will not die in their sleep or in the car or at a bus stop.
They don’t even go to bus stops!
I wish that they would learn something in church, but they do not listen.
They are way too busy worrying about dying.
Faith and fear, so linked, and yet, so not linked in their case.
I have tried to help.
Sadly, they are determined to retain their worst scenarios.
Categories:
edna, christian,
Form:
Narrative
...to Juvie
What better name for one who'd analyze
and scrutinize the sources of logomachy,
a philosopher who filters truth from lies,
our building blocks, the seat of aetiology.
A thinker's thinker, one who ponders well
the implications of a life-long gleaning,
'composed of' and 'comprises,' just a single cell
in her journey to examine every meaning.
Though new expressions find their way to dictionaries,
they bastardize, dilute the power of language,
'snuck' instead of 'sneaked,' no real propensities
to offer something better, (tawdry verbiage!)
To communicate with skill, singular fluency
takes 'savoir faire,' a knack for etymology!
Categories:
edna, dedication
Form:
Verse
Edna Purcell
1912-1930
Dying a virgin was the least of my regrets.
Dying a chaste woman at 18 seemed a moot point.
I remember watching my momma die.
It was in summer, and I was 16.
Hopelessly disconsolate, that’s how I felt;
How would I live without her?
Why was she so cruelly taken from me?
How did she get so sick?
My demise, then, was the anticlimax of my short sad life.
Oh cruel Fate, you!
I despise your insatiable appetite for shattered lives;
Indeed, I spit on you for all the ill-timings and bad luck.
I spit on your wry smile, lurking there,
Behind the shadowy trellis,
Of private episodes with flowers and silk;
You, with those arrogant knowing glances,
Those imploding muscular arms of private desperation.
I died a virgin indeed, never having you,
Died with an empty heart and a reeling soul.
Life was just a foolish grab for nothing;
Always seeming to have enough,
But always wanting much more.
That was life, my life in this quiet religious town.
So, I died a virgin in 1930. I was 18.
Too late for me, I guess.
All I wanted, was to spit in your face!
Oh cruel Fate, wrecker of dreams!
Categories:
edna, death,
Form:
Epitaph
What better name for one who'd analyze
and scrutinize the sources of logomachy,
a philosopher who filters truth from lies,
our building blocks, the seat of aetiology.
A thinker's thinker, one who ponders well
the implications of a life-long gleaning,
'composed of' and 'comprises,' just a single cell
in her journey to examine every meaning.
Though new expressions find their way to dictionaries,
they bastardize, dilute the power of language,
'snuck' instead of 'sneaked,' no real propensities
to offer something better, (tawdry verbiage!)
To communicate with skill, singular fluency
takes 'savoir faire,' a knack for etymology!
Categories:
edna, education,
Form:
Sonnet
Edna Clouds, dreamer, catch-me-if-you-can, hunted by police, together with her man.
T’was Robin Banks, that set her heart a throbbin’, a needy chap who drove the wheels, alias reliant Robin.
Third man was a mystery so legend has its say; the guy who packed the lead was deadly Rick O’Shea.
The fourth, at nine foot tall with face to make men quiver, a goliath of a man; called Stan Dandyliver.
Now, Edna’s gang of outlaws was always on the run and making up this fearsome five was big shot, Ivor Gunn.
Alas you reap just as you sow! as you will come to see, and Edna’s days were numbered in amateur felony.
Holding up a bank truck just didn’t go to plan, what should have carried bullion was in fact an ice cream van.
The shocked, bewildered occupants presumed their life was of over. Those two poor gents behind the glass, Forster Stand and Ben Dover.
Edna gave the order, face strained with lines and
wrinkles, but alas no bag of coins had she, just a double scoop with sprinkles.
It's the cops! cried Robin , the frightened little pup, arrested on the spot by constable Hans Zupp.
But Edna she escaped, and since, no one has seen her, it said she changed her name that day, now known as Miss Demeanor.
Categories:
edna, cheer up, humorous,
Form:
Light Verse
What better name for one who'd analyze
and scrutinize the sources of logomachy,
a philosopher who filters truth from lies,
our building blocks, the seat of etiology.
A thinker's thinker, one who ponders well
the implications of a life-long gleaning,
'composed of' and 'comprises,' just a single cell
in her journey to examine every meaning.
Though new expressions find their way to dictionaries,
they bastardize, dilute the power of language,
'snuck' instead of 'sneaked,' no real propensities
to offer something better, (tawdry verbiage!)
To communicate with skill, singular fluency
takes 'savoir faire,' a knack for etymology!
Categories:
edna, dedication, writing,
Form:
Verse
...for a good friend
What better name for one who'd analyze
and scrutinize the secrets of logomachy,
a philosopher who filters truth from lies,
our building blocks, the seat of etiology.
A thinker's thinker, one who ponders well
the implications of a life-long gleaning,
composed of and comprises, but a single cell
in her journey to examine every meaning.
Some new expressions find their way to dictionaries,
bastardize, dilute the power of language,
snuck instead of sneaked, no real propensities
to offer something better, (tawdry verbiage!)
She communicates with skill, singular fluency,
with savoir fair, a flair for etymology!
Categories:
edna, on writing and words,
Form:
Rhyme
Every morning you greeted us with a smile.
Even when you were out of sorts and it may have taken you a while.
You treated every customer always the same,
and in most cases you even knew their names.
I think I will miss you the most because you were who you are,
and I can honestly say I'm glad I knew you and in my heart you will not be far.
Categories:
edna, caregiving, dedication, devotion, thank
Form:
Ballad
In Homage to Edna St Vincent Millay
To gaze upon truth is to look upon beauty bare,
Though few have done so save those who walk
The halls of academe, and speak with nature in
Its nakedness. We, we such souls who wander in
The wilderness of life, lost, anxious, low in mood,
Beset with this concern, and that conflict,
We have our own truths. That distant footfall
Of sandal on stone is but an echo far away,
Lost within the clamour of our thoughts.
Truth is the silence that follows our plea
Thrown into the aether, or countless rejection
Of casual offers of close engagement. Truth
Is the cold realisation of life taking this rocky path,
Rather than that gold paved avenue to paradise.
Categories:
edna, introspection, truth,
Form:
Sonnet
Poems about Poets V
Edna St. Vincent Millay Has Her Way with a Vassar Professor
by Michael R. Burch
After a night of hard drinking and spreading her legs,
Millay hits the dorm, where the Vassar don begs:
“Please act more chastely, more discretely, more seemly!”
(His name, let’s assume, was, er ... Percival Queemly.)
“Expel me! Expel me!”—She flashes her eyes.
“Oh! Please! No! I couldn’t! That wouldn’t be wise,
for a great banished Shelley would tarnish my name ...
Eek! My game will be lame if I can’t milque your fame!”
“Continue to live here—carouse as you please!”
the beleaguered don sighs as he sags to his knees.
Millay grinds her crotch half an inch from his nose:
“I can live in your hellhole, strange man, I suppose ...
but the price is your firstborn, whom I’ll sacrifice to Moloch.”
(Which explains what became of pale Percy’s son, Enoch.)
Downdraft
by Michael R. Burch
for Dylan Thomas
We feel rather than understand what he meant
as he reveals a shattered firmament
which before him never existed.
Here, there are no images gnarled and twisted
out of too many words,
but only flocks of white birds
wheeling and flying.
Here, as Time spins, reeling and dying,
the voice of a last gull
or perhaps some spirit no longer whole,
echoes its lonely madrigal
and we feel its strange pull
on the astonished soul.
O My Prodigal!
The vents of the sky, ripped asunder,
echo this wild, primal thunder—
now dying into undulations of vanishing wings . . .
and this voice which in haggard bleak rapture still somehow downward sings.
Why the Kid Gloves Came Off
by Michael R. Burch
for Lemuel Ibbotson
It's hard to be a man of taste
in such a waste:
hence the lambaste.
Keywords/Tags: poet, poets, poetry, poems, write, writing, muse, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Dylan Thomas, drink, drinking
Categories:
edna, drink, muse, poems, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
A lunar cave sheilded them
from the horrors of radation
there the Moondogs
honed there skills and became
revered by the challenges of nature.
Martain Microbes and
Titan Sulfurnites
the Crystals of a space time Contentioum
filled the area were
the Magnif One
Duplicater wuld build
the first ever Home World vessel
to store the inhabitants of Earth.
Earth a World far, far away!
Earth, there a twinkle in the galaxy.
Earth a place destined t jear the tales
of these Astromic explorors.
Earth there beyond the
the hemishere of the Moon, Mars and the Earth like
moon of Saturn!
They were astronuants in space when
earth was conquered by 55 Cancri e a distant planet in Space!
frustrations and stressful events that gave way
to the spaceship docked above earth.
The camera show
were the astronauts on the moon, Mars and Titan
rallied to join together
and spearhead the
effects to reconcour earth.
The far, far planet earth home to these
earthings.
Categories:
edna, adventure, business, creation, devotion,
Form:
Ballad