Best Whitman Poems

I am the wind
the textured curl of clouds
those specks of glitter
silver and gold are my
illustrative gleams

the foiling wings
that flutter and flap
feathers ripe with color

complementing all rosy hills
a rolling kiss a splash of
blush a dash of spicy dish
the pepper and the salt
of a morning's stirring serving

see...

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The answer has been my motivation,
keeping me awake through the night,
keeping me in love with my passion,
the language of my forefathers,
The answer has been given, inspiring
those before and after his own words,
Yet it rests clear as day in one
of Uncle Walt's most prized pieces,

The answer...

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* There is one person I would bring back in a heartbeat, and that's my favorite human being of all-time, Walt Whitman - he literally changed my life with his poetry, and brought true beauty and joy to my life. Never underestimate the power of...

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The Journeyman, Walt Whitman


Acrid smoke drifts over this lifeless battlefield…
Forlorn cries escape from his tattered journal, bound in silence…
From above, Vultures circle lazily, stung from below, the burning
Eyes of the gray-bearded one,  give them pause…
Off in the distance, cannons boom, as sons and brothers...

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Reach into my depths, I could,
pulling out pieces of fallen idols,
From contemporary to eccentric,
From cynics to realists, to romantics,
searching deeply to find my voice,
If indeed, I have acquired such a tone
as those who inspire my very thoughts,
Thoreau, Coleridge, Crane, Byron, Poe,
Frost, Hayden, Hughes, and Gibran,

Pertinent...

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Every time  I read Pessoa I think
I'm better than he is
Salutations to Fernando Pessoa-Alan Ginsberg
 
 Me, the monocled one, with my foppish belted waistcoat, 
I'm not unworthy of you, Walt, 
I'm not unworthy of you, my saluting you proves it . . .
Salute...

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I lean and I laugh
Loafing on my throne of grass
Remembering you....

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He sat on this patch of turf,
and if not this exact place a piece of a place nearby.

Naturally, I try to feel his companionship.
Did he write a line of poetry on this small island
or was he simply being Walt Whitman,
honored guest,
a person he hardly recognized...

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Poetic
Travels
Told...

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Mira… Lo que paso con el mundo
The streets are wastelands -no longer safe- desolate
Look at the sky full of gray nothing, dead from idiotic spews
Look at  the children, rasied from ghetto ideals, chasing futile dreams
Look at my mother, saddened by grief and a broken...

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America heard you singing, Walt, 
And stopped to listen. That's our fault. 
Now our "poets" ever since 
Have written stuff that makes one wince. 

They say you've been our nation's bard; 
We should have been more on our guard. 
Now our narcissistic screeds 
Blight the...

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You were considered prolific with poetic verse.
The subjects you covered were quite diverse.
Who else would write about prostitutes and nudity?
With your quill pen over the years, you kept yourself busy.
A favorite son you became in Camden, New Jersey.
If I continued to write the way you...

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A secret is granted
any curb captain
listening.

To speak rarely and
with roots.

Blake wears a hardhat,
drives a forklift for
Metal Products.

Whitman collects
unemployment in the mail.

New words
are mined coal.

They are the drink
from bags,
the suicide in jail,
and
the housekeeper
called only by her first name.

Keeping pace
with a secret at
the speed of light
is the...

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*** In Simple Lines Poeetry Comes ***

(“You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of your life…”      Walt Whit an,  “Leaves of Grass”)

   My lines — 
    ...

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1. You walk around all day trying to think of unusual words that rhyme and new things to say.

2. You spend too much time online or in bookstores looking for poetry and other books that make you feel or think that you, too might become...

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