Lore

By R.S.Thomas

Job Davies, eighty-five
Winters old, and still alive
After the slow poison
And treachery of the seasons.

Miserable? Kick my arse!
It needs more than the rain's hearse,
Wind-drawn to pull me off
The great perch of my laugh.

What's living but courage?
Paunch full of hot porridge
Nerves strengthened with tea,
Peat-black, dawn found me

Mowing where the grass grew,
Bearded with golden dew.
Rhythm of the long scythe
Kept this tall frame lithe

What to do? Stay green.
Never mind the machine,
Whose fuel is human souls
Live large, man, and dream small.

Comments : Read the first two lines of this poem in Anuradha Roy’s ‘Folded Earth’, found them intriguing enough to search for the entire poem. Now that I have read the poem, I really like it – for the description of the indomitable spirit of this obstinate farmer; I imagine Davies is one of those, who, when his time comes, will not go gentle into that good night, as Dylan Thomas put it. Incidentally, here's another poem by R.S. Thomas that deals with old age, though the old farmer in this one feels death growing closer and is worried by it, unlike the gentleman in 'Lore' that seems ready to laugh in death's face, or, more likely, kick it's arse.
p.s. About ‘Folded Earth’ by Anuradha Roy – great book, get your hands on it as soon as possible.
p.p.s Lovely quote about writing a poem by R. S. Thomas; “My chief aim is to make a poem. You make it for yourself firstly, and then if other people want to join in, then there we are.”
- Zen

Links to some other poems by R.S.Thomas below :
http://wonderingminstrels.blogspot.com/1999/08/poetry-for-supper-r-s-thomas.html
http://wonderingminstrels.blogspot.com/1999/07/ancients-of-world-r-s-thomas.html
http://wonderingminstrels.blogspot.com/2005/06/to-young-poet-r-s-thomas.html
http://wonderingminstrels.blogspot.com/2000/09/taliesin-r-s-thomas.html

I have no power

Nizar Qabbani

I have no power to change your nature
my books are of no use to you
and my convictions do not convince you
nor does my fatherly council do you any good
you are the queen of anarchy, of madness, of belonging
...to no one
Stay that way.

Comments : What can I say ! Sort of skimmed through the poem, said ho-hum, something made me re-read it and I fell in love with it. Thanks to Ruks for posting this on facebook. - Zen

Some folk are born with knowledge of their goal

Thomas Thurman

Some folk are born with knowledge of their goal.
I've met them, though I'm not like that myself;
I'm wandering through life, a placid soul,
content to leave adventures on the shelf.
I've loved and lived without a way to know
the field where I should strive to be the best:
to pan for gold, or be a CEO,
or cure disease, or conquer Everest;
and likewise, you're a Poohstick in the stream:
you drift through life, without an end in mind.
We came together, neither with a dream,
both happy with our futures undefined,
our hoping open-ended; yet it seems
our life together's fashioned from our dreams.

Comment : Facebook Zindabad ! A friend pointed me to this collection of Thomas Thurman's poetry. Really liked easy-going-drifter tone and mood of the poem above. - Zen