Book of Poetry

[Boydstun]

 

My collection of poems In The Gathers of the World is now for sale, a paperback or audio, here.

I made one of my poems into a song, and it is sung by a friend here, for free.

[Boydstun]

The poems in that collection are from among those I wrote up until July 2023. The poems in that book are: Suns / Steads / Lifehold / Placement / Shadow-Wing / Is Love / Island / Would Be / Each Reach / His Day / Still One / Secret Wreath / We of Love / Stream / The Castle / Brushes / Dream to Sleep / More / Matters / Carriage / After all / So / Landers / Companion / Lines / The Song / Yes / Once / That It Had Been.

My poems are more often appreciated by women than by men. So a gift of the book to your wife or girlfriend might stand you in good advantage. Below is a sample of the kind of poetry I write (this one from this year).

 

Flicker

Far flicker-point, radiant white,

weaves upward tall city shadows,

butterfly catching sunset light.

 

Soft teardrop slips still-stand gone-soon

lone witness, telling long-died child

who once had chased a rising moon.

 

Leaves green turned to gold, falling slow,

flicker ceaselessly sinking sun

behind this train of my window.

 

 

[Boydstun]

 

The audio book is by a professional reader.

A few read by me are here.

[Boydstun]

Steve Wheeler, a poet, is the creator of the FB site Invisible Poets (~50K). I have recently posted poems there, and I've found it a place for much to enjoy. Steve noticed this poem of mine and read it out, beginning at 12:30 here: https://www.facebook.com/521409601/videos/1092104835550268/

Edited December 7, 2024 by Boydstun

[Boydstun]

A couple of Commenters during the live-stream remarked how fine was "Each Reach." One mentioned that it brought to mind the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins. I had not noticed that resemblance before, but I see now that it is so. Hopkins was a Jesuit, and his poems are much of God in the glories of nature and in rescue of humans from despair. His poems give advice, and Creator and Christ and Holy Spirit are the answer. Some of my poems do have what might be fairly termed a metaphysical aspect, employing nature and human action and feeling. They almost never give advice, although at least one of my friends turns to them for serenity. Some of my poems can be read pretty well as a religious poem, even though my own meaning for them would be entirely within the realm of the natural and the artifices of humans. I do not agree with the common assumption that the author's meaning of a poem is the one true meaning. My poems create experience for literate persons, that sharing is all, and any meaning suiting the words is a right, right-for-person meaning of the words together.

[Boydstun]

 

Some of my poems are being read and getting some sweet and comprehending responses at the FB group Invisible Poets.

[Boydstun]

Such encouraging understanding of my poetry from among these other poets. Comment on "Yes".

[Boydstun]

In 2024 I wrote a couple of poems that seem to be keepers. One was "Flickers" which I showed upstream. The other is the one in this post. I've needed to back off from poetry composition to keep on the beam with philosophy writing. Lately, that is the Aristotle portion of "Metaphysics and Geometry". When I have finished that paper, I should be ready to finish the paper "Necessity and Form in Truths" and compose "Science and Mathematics," a chapter unwritten so far for my philosophy book.* 

Edited December 26, 2024 by Boydstun

[Boydstun]

This post and next are a couple of poems not in the collection In the Gathers of the World

(The photo is years ago at the headwaters of the Mississippi.)

[Boydstun]

This poem is a recounting of the arc of the first love of my life, beginning when we were both 19. The photo was some months after his death 22 years later. A beautiful quilt panel was made by his office, which was here being added to the AIDS Quilt. (Click on photo.)

Edited January 2 by Boydstun

[Boydstun]

This is a poem I wrote yesterday. The photo is part of what would normally be part of the living room of our house, but in our case, it is part of my main library.

[Boydstun]

(I wrote this one two mornings, yesterday and today.)

 

 

       Birth Days

 

Sprung into the world,

    lullabied.

Infant firmly furled.

    Alive, bide.

 

Lifted high to place

    on shoulders.

Riding joys of space.

    Beholders.

 

Three kernels each hole:

    worm, crow, grow.

Water summer whole.

    Harvest go.

 

Two points make a line,

    call AB.

Compass the point A,

    same the B.

Circle-cross-circle

    two points be,

call them C and D. 

    Line CD

across line AB,

    halving it

    perfectly.

[Boydstun]

Some of my poems are especially suited to Objectivists, and I collect them in this post.

 

 

Ours

Existence bare, most plain,

    just what is thing.

Existence only, all,

    whole running ball.

Existence life, out come,

    out earth, out sun.

Existence mind, live see,

    light you, light me.

Existence we, right thrown,

    to show, know, own.   

 

Would Be

Would be the rise to wonder,

        this click-shut night.

To those trains’ risen rumbles,

        this silk tie tight.

 

Would be to traction motor,

        copper, shellac.

To axles’ bright ten-thousandths,

        castings in stack.

 

Would be for tons two hundred,

        high cranes glide free.

To locomotive thunder,

        we who would be. 

 

Each Reach

Each reach, root, clasp, or grasp,

     all flights, all calls, all nests,

     all pulsing blood, all valves,

     all meters and accounts,

     bows of gifts, ties of love,

     treasures of loveliness

     in being and thinking,

     in rainbows and forest,

     in commerce and the peace—

Each problem and harvest,

     lay and planting for each

     breath and cry and suckle,

     struggle, rest, and struggle

     to grasp and say and make—

     are only of life, life

     gyring round, rambling to

     life wide-waked to wide world

     and to itself with you.

 

Matters 

Human is desire to be,

living be, me awash we

seekers of earth, sea, and sun.

 

Our breath and touch, our say

yes to life. Not in frameless-space way,

not we purely living chambers.

 

Whirl of mind is life in life.

Life is home, whole plane for strife,

all place of makes and loves, all worth.

 

Exist that is out we, in we live,

we with minds of world ours to give

we makers and embracers.

 

Nothing at all seen or breathed,

not a whit? Then none could see, nothing be wreathed.

No matter to mind, no mind to live.

 

No matter touched

nor intoned, no mind is launched.

No inner shores, oars, seas.

 

Life from earth, sea, and sun

pressed into life mattered to run

for kind, for one. Running to run.

 

Man, woman, run the shoring sand.

Mattered thought, stars filling hand,

weaving passage, turning situation, tracing all.

 

Hardness of Happiness

Hard as far would away

    the broken bone or heart.

Hard as not broke in two,

    stone-whole, full rightly faced.

Hard as these walls of stone,

    our ringing steels all done.

This glancing the sunlights

    and shadows by us won. 

 

Glory

The world is glory,

    its bits galactic, electric,

    glory in human light.

The world gives the rise,

    the breath, the human-mind relay, 

    glory light to new light.

Child of all the world,

    glory the world, the one, this one,

    in ways of human sight.  

 

The Spring Within

From man issued the fine,

    his circle and right line,

    his clear turn-spheres above,

    his flowing deep-spring love.

From man issued laid-fire,

    his songs, kiss and desire,

    tales dawning hope sublime,

    swirls dancing snows of time.

[Boydstun]

(Click on photo.)

[Boydstun]

 

I am honored that one of my poems has been selected for inclusion in Invisible Poets – Anthology 3, strong wave after wave of human skill, genius, delight, and altogether hope. Amazing

[Boydstun]

My poetry book was dedicated "To Walter, my wonderful"

my husband

my everything.

Walter died yesterday. 

[Doug Morris]

My condolences.

 

[Boydstun]

Ballade

Walter and Stephen

Edited April 18 by Boydstun

[tadmjones]

My condolences.

[Pokyt]

Your poetry's really wonderful. I'm sorry for your loss.

Edited April 19 by Pokyt

[KyaryPamyu]

I am so sorry for your loss.

[whYNOT]

Each Reach

Each reach, root, clasp, or grasp,

     all flights, all calls, all nests,

     all pulsing blood, all valves,

     all meters and accounts,

     bows of gifts, ties of love,

     treasures of loveliness

     in being and thinking[...]

Shattered by your loss, Stephen. 

[EC]

Lost my Mom a month ago, so sorry for your loss too.

[Boydstun]

Why Is Not

Why the world blooms

    when he has gone out

    this spring of glories?

Why the sky and I

    when he is no more

    hand, live mind moving?

Why I move beyond

    his days, pulse, eyes, arms,

    his breathing love?

Edited April 29 by Boydstun

[Boydstun]

Ashes to lake at sunrise