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Poems By Poet Bill Grace  5/31/2016 2:56:51 PM
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  Best Poems From
  BILL GRACE
 
 
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  397.     

Caution To Morning's Fast Risers

A word with you jack rabbitt riser
There have been some studies on extended longevity
It seems there is a pattern to those who break 100
They do not erupt from tender sleep's deep grasp
But slowly gather self from morning's haze
Perhaps not fearing quite so much a world
Over busy and becoming more so,
With God's present exile for many,
If you will forgive a conjecture
From this pen basically concerned for the world's fast risers.
 
Bill Grace
   
 

   
   
 

  398.     

Celebrating Stephen Kuusisto

Every twenty – thirty years
I meet someone
like sun
when met coming out of a deep
and long prison
in astonishment I blink
from its impacts
or perhaps
just write poetry.

Professor Kuusisto
can be packaged –
but it is a violence –
he appreciates his freedom
more.

We liked his face.
We liked his dog.
We liked his humor.
We liked the way:
he judged us as an audience
assisted a good energy
provided a win-win for all.

I like the work
of his honor students.
I like the nonchalant
way he chose his audio
poem for the “Cortland Review.”
I love the selection
read to us from his
Eaves Dropping. (W. W. Norton)

I may even love his homework
to read
Poetry as Survival.
I love his balance
in accepting a stranger
and
I will bet you a dollar
there is very little he imitates
or seeks.

This man who
loves writing,
rises early
and understands
its terrible demands.

Blind man helping me to see
the Marxian roots of “disability”
more than a lesson in etymology
from flesh touching flesh
a call to ‘the big life’
reminiscent of another who knew strife
hope so strong once forged
it triumphs over circumstance
it triumphs over what is real.
 
Bill Grace
   
 

   
   
 

  399.     

Celebrating The Late Life Church Years Of Louise Burnam Jones - A Post Death Fairwell

I do not know why I loved her,
Perhaps some rare transmutation of eros
From my sixty years of frame to her eighty plus.
Perhaps that she truly needed that handicap
spot at the front of the church so clearly,
I never begrudged it to her even once.
Perhaps because she was a pillar of the place
That called the present pastor that I love.
Perhaps because on occasion she moved
with so much obvious pain,
yet I never heard her complain, even once.
Could it be because she was a teacher of so many years
a trade I truly trust?
Or that she taught at home and church
quietly gave so much good?
With us and then gone
A fast sinking ship
No time to say: 'So long! '
I grieve her timely passage
and know it is my own.
No time to say: 'So long! '
I guess I'll say it here
And hold the tear.
 
Bill Grace
   
 

   
   
 

  400.     

Celebrating The Wisdom Of The Poet Edward Field

Uncle Don told me in one of those moments of intimacy
When he was not speaking ex-cathedra
: Your father followed the way of his heart.:
It was a nice share and I am grateful for it
Coming from an authority as great as the Uncle Don
so many of us have.
 
Bill Grace
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Bill Grace