Long Divan Poems

Jefferson’s Reply to Rev. Jonah Stoughton


					Monticello
					July 1, 1826

Sir, I have before me your letter of 
the second of June, and I thank you warmly
for having taken the time to write me. 
I have read it...

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After wishing me a good morning, he said that it was all set,
It was time to raze the house, even though I wasn't in debt!

But they wanted to build a big highway, exactly in this...

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COME ON SOUPER'S LETS HAVE SOME FUN AND MAKE FOLK SMILE DURING SUCH DIFFICULT TIMES FOR US ALL. THERE ARE LOTS MORE APT NAMES  - PLEASE SOUP MAIL POEMS AND I WILL ADD THEM...

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Word Fantasy in F Sharp Minor  (3 Movements)

1

(Andante con moto)

Hey man. Take this.

I got it last night,
under a fractured street light,
with shattered pieces of clear glass, scattered
at the nexus of an obscure dark freeway...

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Centered in the irregular rectangle of the caves entrance the fire popped and danced as the snow fell lazily before the backdrop of pines.Softly the wind moaned above the tree line.Francis sat on their makeshift...

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85
 Feedback comes to those who apply and post and expect to receive the same 
when you place a silver dollar in your mouth you scratch it with your teeth to see if 
it is...

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Mahammad Fuzuli (1494-1556)

Mahammad Fuzuli, the poet-philosopher, is one of the founders of the divan genre in the history of Azerbaijani and Turkish literature. He wrote his works in three languages (Turkish, Arabic, Persian) in the...

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Inclined on the divan with a book,  in my room, I was all alone,
Wrapped in a quilt tucked around my feet, the wind’s moan….
In  the cold gusty afternoon sun – casting its timid...

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YOU HAD BETTER FIX THAT CRUCIFIX

I’m sitting in McDonald’s at a tiny table all alone
Just staring at an inanimate and silent cell phone
I ordered a coke and two fries in case she shows up and...

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The clown with his red cherub face
A maggot in his twisted brain
The jack-booted leather Christian
With dull razorblades down his spin

Staring down from their high windows
The taste of gin upon their tongues
Lusty fire crackling in their...

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Estella Murray

1891-1912

Johnny’s was the last face 

I saw that April afternoon in 1912.

I admit I was mean to him,

As mean as a starving she-dog in heat.

It’s not that I did not appreciate 

The blooming rosebud...

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The rain clouds gather outside and
I see his umbrella bouncing over the hedge.
I hear him enter the gate with case in hand;
He slowly closes the gate and heads for the door.

A light knock reverberates into...

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I leave the auction sick, my mettle frayed
A ghost, I fear, in oil clutched near my side
No doubt, a ghost for which I've dearly paid!
How best to next proceed, I must decide

The painting I have...

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she seldom smiles and when she does so do i
she clings to angels and clandestine clouds on high
her thoughts are a mystery held in the hand of a sequestered place
she seldom smiles but when she...

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So the shape
Of the poem 
Does not have
To be the subject
Of the poem.
Aha!  Got it. After reading the   rules twice,   and then thrice, as I did not believe myself the...

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Eerie parlor music squeaks out over the musty floral rug
No human people have been in here for a long time
The organ has lost some keys; which gives a weird sound
The ghosts in the attic cringe,...

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Did I not tell you, ‘Do not leave, for I am your friend’?
For in this mirage of nothingness I am the Fountainhead of Life!
Even if in anger you leave Me for a hundred thousand years,
in...

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I gaze on a scene of such total destruction
Somehow my husband has slept through it all
I’d thought that our home was of sturdy construction
I’ll tell you what happened as best I recall 

At first the...

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TO HOVER  OVER  A LOVER

What’s so good about saying “goodbye”?
Me thinks one should say “good cry”
Because tears flow when ONE HAS  to go
And the only good thing about tears is they can...

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What say you when a pig bathe in a muddy muck?
When he rolls merrily like 'tis panacea to his strain?
Don't you gawk at the amazing shuck
Could be to you 'tis a flaunt to his inert...

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Into a garden sprayed by night's rain,
Jen  slouches under a dim lamplight
as the wind gushes on her divan
sweeping pages of a long era,
jotted down through crystal-clear memoirs
from her flawless hand, still radiant... 
while tendrils...

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Wounded barbarian none gainsay is brave,
Enemies harrying him to his grave,
Trench filled with valiant comrades, struck
And split by the axes, or arrows that stuck.

Orgies have slated and wasted his brain:
Wenches and wine left a mid-morning...

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I dance upon you
and your spirit I lift
in to my heart.
I dance upon you all
I dance where I can
in between the headstones
on grasses of divan,
where once you’re feet laid
where your love ones
shed their last evanescent...

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(For a blind man…)

Sighted vision is a mystery.
Whether sitting on the divan,
Busily washing a dishpan,
Or sitting outside getting a tan.
Jon, them thin hands see.

Whether using salt and not cayenne,
I declare you amaze me, man. 
You...

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A serpent lies writhing on our divan,
we see now how denial might begin.
Hissing at all who would foil his vile plan,
our fatal flaw is not delving right in.

Climate Change is much more a twisty tact:
coiled...

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