www.PoemsAbout.com

     Home | Contact Us

Poems By Poet Warren Falcon  12/20/2014 7:33:55 AM
Search For Poems & Poets:
POEMS ABOUT
 angel
 beautiful
 daughter
 death
 friend
 girl
 greed
 hero
 home
 hope
 kiss
 life
 lonely
 loss
 lost
 love
 memory
 money
 music
 nature
 night
 power
 rain
 school
 sleep
 soldier
 summer
 sun
 war
 

 

 
Warren Falcon   Best Poems From
  WARREN FALCON (04/23/52 - xxxx)
 
 

Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 20 30 40 50 60 67

next page >>

 
   
 

  1.     

Bessie Smith - Powder Dancing On 3rd Street, Chattanooga (circa 1971)

.
Already the river begins its sweat.
April to September I'll be on the porch
Come sunsets listening to cars in the
Dark and you, remembering the flour
On the floor** and me and Willie in
Stocking feet dancing till dawn,
An old man down the street come
To drink on my porch sometime.

You were singing one night
While we drank and he just
Had to dance and pulled me,
Reluctant, skinny ass kid
All over the floor that night.
But my feet did dance.
And the flour stayed down
The whole summer long.

*****************************

[**In the Jim Crow South
in juke joints for blacks
sometimes powder or
wheat flour would be strewn
on dance floors and couples
would dance silkenly gliding
barefoot or in socks..
To read more about this read
my account of it on poemhunters
titled, 'Now Heart - Some of
What I Remember When I Listen']
 
Warren Falcon
   
 

   
   
 

  2.     

A Grief Earned - An Ode Beginning & Ending With Lines From Shelley

Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind,
I have been taken up into grief, the strange
relief of clouds. Soon departed, I shall be
once again returned to disquieted prayer,
the proud monk to his rites rejoined
such are covers for disjointedness.

Adroit is the spoiled self touching only
late that of Other, of Beauty, Adonais
'dead then' when Mr. Shelley, once young,
now always, has clung 'moderne, 'as much
as, as soon as he can deny, spurn, return
a Vision 'toward the vital air.'

He has the advantage of an Eastern detachment.


I, meanwhile, to walls stick, to
sheets, this cup, full, cannot release.

I step, my foot remains to boards
stuck, must walk inwardly restrained,

halt, try to, misstep, the usual tread
of, with, my heart.



With heart will I to Guatemala go,
there a Mayan lover do some good,

to active volcanoes,

deepest lake

with creatures strange -

axelotls,

pink,

delicate,


and one fountain send where

I need to go -

there, continually letting

go the hollows, release the

tread that follows

and the after-flow.

Feeling grief's all,

I follow to where all is fled.
 
Warren Falcon
   
 

   
   
 

  3.     

Boots. Spider - 2 Winter Haiku

1

New boots? neighbor asks

I smile at the worn things -


Snow washed by country fields


2

Who moves my books! I ask aloud


Cornered spider

Quickly looks busy
 
Warren Falcon
   
 

   
   
 

  4.     

The Drying Assuages, Being A Parody In Part Of T.S. Eliot's “Four Quartets” Invoking Samuel Beckett, A Bit Of James Joyce, & A Final Haunting By Ezra Pound

“Now we come to discover that the moments of agony...are likewise permanent with such permanence as time has...Or even a very good dinner, but the sudden illumination - -We had the experience but missed the meaning.” - from “The Dry Salvages” by T.S. Eliot

3

The Drying Assuages

“And all is vanity amongst these my ruins, ”

says Sweeney, whoever he may be,
tidies up neurotically, gin on the breath
for he is bored unto death but awaits daily
the post for possible liberty which he took
once on the mooch with a wealthy dowager who
mistook him for someone else. The scar forever
reminds of dumb lusts and dumber luck never
dreaming she was a black belt, his teeth,
now cracked, remind him to “be mindful of
the good against all wants” so sitz he the
wiser, chaste, a slack-jawed wastrel, piles
cooling upon cool stones, in ruins reading
Sam Beckett but that is another story written
in stars Centauric, to wit

qua qua qua
sisk boom ba
twixt Fucquaad
& Apothecary
near the corner
time forgot

but o not I
not I when
the clot broke

the expectorating
hoi polloi
screaming **1

no help at all

as I stood pale
pale, paler still,
bleeding out from
an undignified
place leaning
upon a tailor's
wall, he too

no help at all

threatening to
call the cops

It closes me in
again to recall

qua qua qua

Fucquaad

amongst the forgotten roses
where one is hungover in the
supposes with which one perpetually
begins, that one can never finish
like this, pissed, which goes on,
which goes on and still on,
“I can't go on but must (adjusting
the truss) because I am losing
my hair and so on and ever on”
dot dot dot into eternity should
one believe in such, but one may
use the idea of such, eternity
- -go forward or behind, wince at
the word- -living in the blue rind
of sky crumbling onto nether
shore where relentless waves
tease relentless wind disturbing
a lone relentless tern tracing
uremic rims of foam

“tanti tanti non avessi conosciuto
la morte tanta n'avesse disfatta


quando solo uno sarebbe sufficiente” **2

shall I call then eternity
a home for shells, a curve
in space? disgrace myself
yet again with belief, any
one, believe that such shores
are a where after all, a place
to shelter, each wave somewhere
by someone or something counted
as is every hair numbered
counted still? they fall as
do waves into crescendos
rainbows should the sun
so shine for what is left
to comb of shore and hair
is a disturbance of
fractions, refractions
the forlorn redactions
of what is perceived,
felt, spilt upon the
depilitating pate

and so I must wear a hat but let us not go then
you and I patiently, into all that but when come
time proper, a hair fall caught in a shaft of sun
light, the endless comb over undone, wind blown
upon the shore, then we shall speak of it sure,
and more

now then here then
remembering too the chaffing bloody garters


“Il sedile del water fredda, crudele,
l'aria amara come i vapori di Aetna,
ingannevole Empedocle inciampa
in ombre mormorio dei secoli',
un bugiardo che sarebbe un immortale ora
immortally un meno scandalo
uno d'oro sandalo”

fulminante E.P. defunto perennemente denunciando:

“With usura hath no man a sh*thouse of good stone
each block cut smooth and well fitting
that delight might cover their face,

with usura

hath no man a painted paradise on his outhouse wall
harpes et luthes sans benfit d'un laxatif” **3


spumoni spumoni


spumoni


tanti tanti


tanti


^^^^^^^^

**1
“hoi polloi” is Greek for “the many”, is an expression from Greek that means the many or, in the strictest sense, the majority. In English, it means the working class, commoners, the masses or common people in a derogatory sense. Synonyms for hoi polloi which also express the same or similar contempt for such people include 'the great unwashed', 'the plebeians' or 'plebs', 'the rabble', 'riff-raff', 'the herd', 'the proles' and 'peons'. - from Wikipedia.org

**2
A riff on a quote quoted by Eliot in The Wasteland
from Dante's Divine Comedy -

“so many so many I had not known death had undone so many'
when only this one would do”


**3
“The toilet seat cold, cruel,
the air bitter as Aetna's vapors,
deceptive Empedocles stumbles
into the centuries' murmuring shadows,
a liar who would be an immortal now
immortally a scandal minus
one golden sandal”

fulminant E.P. deceased perpetually decrying:

“With usura hath no man a house of good stone
each block cut smooth and well fitting
that delight might cover their face,

with usura

hath no man a painted paradise on his church wall
harps and Luther without benefit of a laxative”

- from Canto LXV by Ezra Pound, slight alteration
of 2 words, 'house' and 'church' & adding the 4 final
words in French


^^^^^^^^

To read the complete parody please go to my poems page here on Poemhunter and read “Four Snortets, A Parody With Fondness For Thomas Stearns Eliot”

“Now we come to discover that the moments of agony...are likewise permanent with such permanence as time has...Or even a very good dinner, but the sudden illumination-We had the experience but missed the meaning.” - from **1The Dry Salvages” by T.S. Eliot
 
Warren Falcon
   
 
 

Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 20 30 40 50 60 67

next page >>

 

 
BEST POEMS:  (Click on a topic to list and read the poems)
 angel poems
• 
beautiful poems
• 
death poems
• 
friend poems
 girl poems
• 
home poems
• 
hope poems
• 
kiss poems
 life poems
• 
loss poems
• 
love poems
• 
music poems
 nature poems
• 
rain poems
• 
school poems
• 
sex poems
 soldier poems
• 
summer poems
• 
sun poems
• 
war poems
 
(c) Poems are the property of their respective owners.
All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge.. 
Contact Us | About Us | Copyright notice | Privacy statement

Poems By Poet Warren Falcon