Best Graham Poems
Pickles Graham 1950
In the kitchen of a large sheep station in western Queensland
at Dirranbandi the boss lady was talking to the staff.
She was going to the ball that evening and was parading about,
in her evening wear, and scarf.
Finally it came, her turn to speak to Pickles Graham.
She said, looking down her long nose.
"do you dance Pickles?."
"No missus, I spose"
“Oh” she said "You must dance Pickles?"
Pickles scratched his bonzer nose.
He said "Well yes missus,
I do the Bullockys polka missus, I spose"
"Oh" she said pretending interest, yawning,
"What is it, how does it go."
"Well” said Pickles, lightly performing.
"You grab the ladies and swing them quick
shake them, till dung flies out like bricks"
“spose”
Don Johnson
true story of old Dirranbandi
HANDMAIDEN OF MOON DANCING
fly me to stars in the thrill of one swan night
over a crescent arc to feel a flame of sighs,
teasing dreams so silent yet ever wild
and like a neon light, speak through your feet ,
your ribs twirling in drips of summer’s rage : throw
away the restraint of confined movements
dictated by a body unmoved; of a flower
keeping her flutters from crawling freely on grass
give me a sway through leaps unto ocean’s swell
without need for thought or reason, rather,
lift the flesh made from love or hate, to burst
with primitive heat; fingers liquid in motion unbidden
by a sacred place that doesn’t exist on earth, when
all but the fragrance of a naked skin expresses
the very force that writhes in the faint of depth,
licking the cells inside out.. weightless, bold, soft
dance the crazy dance with me just because
such passion needs to flow along rhythms
burning within… till a weave of spin breaks
into a trance blending a wanton glide with
pirouetting flights raw in some meadow clearing,
pious pose under the tangerine of touch…
handmaiden of moonlight dancing on flames
pluck those eyes ,rise above mortal remains.
©
*i tweaked this free verse with a sonnet’s volta
in the last two lines (10 syl rhyme count instead
of the usual 8 syl pattern)
----------
*Martha Graham is the pioneer of modern dance. As a ballet dancer
and choreographer, she introduced inner movement emphasizing
emotion, spontaneity, and an exploration of psycho-social themes
( feminism, political protest, and labor unrest)through free -flow
of innovative steps, thwarting cultural control over conventional,
metered dance. Her last performance on-stage was in 1970,
at the age of 76; she was working on the choreography for the Olympics
when she died in 1991 at the age of 97.
Graham was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1976
by President Gerald Ford and cited by Time Magazine as
"Dancer of the Century" in 1988, aside from her other accolades.
*Source: Wikipedia.com and www.voanews.com
*Please watch
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUoMc5Am_c0&feature=related
‘ ‘’’’’ ‘’’’
For Cyndi Mac Millan’s Maverick by nette onclaud
A young North Carolina preacher named Billy Graham
Was filled with God's Words, and knew how to say 'em
All across the nation, many people came to salvation
Now heaven will be home to more than a few; how about you
Alexander Graham Bell
Fell under a deep spell
Got a call on the line
Believed it was the end of time.
10/3/12
Death can come so quickly
Like a thief in the night
But when the victim is so very young
It’s definitely not right.
John has left us way too soon.
We ask what does this mean?
He was in the prime of life
He was only seventeen!
It’s all part of the Master Plan
At least that’s what they say.
But that’s not too much comfort
To Mom and Heidi and Edna May!
In times of grief and sorrow
There are no words that one can find
To express the way that they must feel
At least not at the present time.
It’s said that John enjoyed his life
He liked to make folks laugh
He worked for charities and causes
And raised money on their behalf.
So, Family always keep in mind
No matter what you do
Be assured, “the man of the house”
Is watching over you!
Footnotes:
(This young man was a friend of the family
killed in an auto accident. Heidi and
Edna May are his sisters. "Man of the
House" is what he refered to himself
after his dad passed away a few years ago)
I was born in the dusk of March.
There was a blizzard, I’m told.
But I don’t remember it that way.
So much for “out like a lamb,”
and at an ounce over ten pounds,
my mother likely shares the sentiment.
I was a baby elephant.
My formative years were electric blues and neon pinks.
Chester Cheetah, He Man and Max Hedrum.
Our family was teetering on poverty, probably.
We lived on the west side of a dead-end street
with limitless possibilities.
Three sisters and four brothers aside,
I was an only child.
Awkwardly, I attempted my teens,
But oh, those glasses…
They probably had potential,
had I been a decade or seven older.
My prized possession was a saxophone
and I couldn’t gain weight if I tried.
I was a six foot something 2x4.
Somewhere along the way, I can’t say why,
The U.S. Air Force took me in.
They introduced me to avionics and a girl,
a doe eyed product of the dust bowl.
She danced from the hip and into my heart.
She became my first and last kiss.
I was a blushing bridegroom.
Now I’m a two-year veteran of fatherhood,
and an over-qualified desk clerk.
I’m the type who would sooner memorize pi
one or two decimal points past useful
than find it by an infinite series expansion.
I cherish creative outlets, so today,
I am a poet.
04/17/15
Alexander Graham
Rang a Bell when he said
Mr. Watson, come here
In 1876
With no earthly idea
Of what was to come
How we live today
With cell phones up our butts
Wherever you turn
Someone's talking or texting
At every red light
While the green one is resting
And let's not forget
The in your ear bluetooth craze
People talking out loud to themselves
Like we all care what they say
Or out and about
At a table for four
Where each cell phone in hand
Is the only thing not ignored
It does make you wonder
What Alexander would do
If he saw his seed planted
Producing this rotten fruit
Perhaps then Alexander Graham
Would ring that Bell in history
And say Mr. Watson, come here
Help me destroy this thing!
They don't know him, but he knows them.
It's Revival time under the big tent of the sky
for the evangelicals among them (Billy's Boys),
and vespers for the liturgicals like me, prayer
meeting for all, whether it's Wednesday or not.
I used to wonder what this nightly heavenly
glory story was all about, sangfroid from
a faith I was never baptized in.
They fly in without fail every day when day
is done; same hour, same place over water, where
following ritual circling, they make lake-fall
for meditation until one of them by signal known
solely to the divine, flutters his feathers, and,
as if at Benediction, they lift again and drop again
in a rhythmic rosary the pagans named a wheel.
There are no words for the sea birds, only
cries that break the sound barrier of the skies,
where they Were before earthly worship
in the baptismal font of the faithful.
Lake water made sacrosanct
Alexander Graham Bell.
Tried to help people who could not hear well.
When he amplified sound, of an electrical tone,
He found he'd invented the first telephone.
3/ 27 / 2019.
Sponsor Tania Kitchin.
Sad news
whence somber church bells peal n pews
packed tight to pay homage to Graham Dixon while each mourner doth rues
in due time exits the sepulchral chamber in ones or twos.
an untimely death
tis like a whip that stings naked flesh
unimaginable by this papa
of two lovely teenage daughters fresh
into throes of young adulthood,
where world (wide web) at fingertips and skein of community. family
and illustrious lower merion
principled staff wrought mental health network
that purportedly serves as a mesh...
how and/or why (this father doth ask himself)
did one life slip thru this intricate weave
where tell tale signs of personal turmoil
usually writ larger than any pet peeve
roils inside (attested by mailer daemons) and doth leave
family, friends and strangers dumbstruck
and stunned into sorrow per priceless youth did heave
himself against premature years of his mortality,
whereby even i (a passerby per cyberspace) grieve
the permanent loss of promises untold -
thus tis death impossible to believe?
no words can salve this pain
yet, a vicarious impact felt like daggers
into my heart they reign
while whisking soul of loved
indelibly etched against logic, this tragedy doth stain
thee entire being of me,
an anonymous transient virtual wayfarer
before the sands of time for mein kempf will wane.
damn
helplessness prevails
at how to console even a milligram
what can this soul offer - when such a brutal slam
bangs against the consciousness -
where psyche rent asunder -
with a wicked WHAM!
It is the third of June at San Quentin in 1955.
A death row inmate will soon no longer be alive.
She has been dubbed “Bloody Babs” by the local press.
Barbara Graham is a convicted murderess.
For killing widow Mabel Monohan, she will pay.
Barbara is sentenced to die in the gas chamber today.
Barbara’s young life experienced many a convolution.
She had been in and out of jails for petty crimes and prostitution.
Never experiencing a proper upbringing in a peaceable home;
between California and Nevada, Barbara would aimlessly roam.
With two other men, into Mrs. Monohan’s house she would go.
Reportedly, the victim’s skull was cracked as she was smothered with a pillow.
Graham was executed after a second stay.
“Good people are always so sure they’re right” was the last thing she would say.
Inspired by the 1958 film “I Want to Live”
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
Alexander Graham Bell
previously had to yell;
but then he invented the telephone,
which made it easier to chat when in a room on his own.
written 22nd March for Tania's clerihew contest
Senator Lindsey Graham is crackers
As are all those Bill Cosby backers
Females are not toys
For abuse by boys
Who are clearly sadistic bushwhackers!
On November seventh many years ago
In the hills of North Carolina covered beautifully with snow
A boy named Billy Graham made his presence on the earth
Only His creator knew just how much he was worth
Before the time he was conceived God had for him a plan
He knew he would be greatly used to show God's love to man
He committed to the Father and to this very day
He's still winning souls for Christ saying Jesus is the Way
When the Lord comes back again and gathers up His own
Takes us to that glorious place where all the saints have gone
When Billy kneels in heaven before God's Holy Son
He'll hear the Father say to him the priceless words "WELL DONE"!
Billy Graham,
Servant of the Great I Am.
Preached the Gospel loud and bold,
And welcomed sinners into God's fold.
3/31/21
For Brian Strand's All Yours (Apr 2) contest