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I wanted to be a meteorologist. I wanted to be a marine biologist.

quote by January Jones
Added by Lucian Velea
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Underwater

Scanning at the blue bended headlands
White flurry scudded, a dark silhouette flashes by, in the wet
It is glistening flesh
In the deep marine, in the deep marine
There is room for make believe out in the ocean
There is room for make believe out on the land
In the wet, in the dream, if its flashing then seen
In the deep marine, in the deep marine
Looking to the white framed headland
Green pockets dropping, a bright cockatoo
Circles up in the breeze, in the realm you cant reach
In the deep marine, in the deep marine
There is room for make believe out in the ocean
There is room for make believe out on the land
In the west, crashes by, its a green silhouette
In the deep marine, in the deep marine
No one can make her, no one can break her down
Underwater, over land
No one can make her, no one can break her
Underwater, over land
No one can make her, no one can break her
She is what she is and no one can bring her down, bring her down
Looking to the white framed headland
Green pockets dropping a bright cockatoo
Circles up in the breeze, in the realm you cant reach
In the deep marine, in the deep marine
There is room for make believe out in the ocean
There is room for make believe out on the land
In the wet, flashes by, its a green silhouette
In the deep marine, in the deep marine
No one can make her, no one can break her
Underwater, overland
No one can break her, no one can fake her
She it what she is and no one can bring her down, bring her down
Underwater, overland
No one can squeeze her, no one can freeze her now
No one can make her, no one can break her down
No one can seize her, no one can freeze her
She is what she is and youve got to see it

song performed by Midnight Oil
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad Of Ira Hayes

Gather round you people and a story I will tell
About a brave young indian you should remember well
From the tribe of pima indians, a proud and a peaceful band
They farmed the phoenix valley in arizona land
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
Till their white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed
Now iras folks were hungry and their farms wene crops of weeds
But when war came he volunteers and forgot, the white mans greed
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.
They started up iwo jima hill, 250 men
But only 27 lived to walk back down that hill again
And when the fight was over and the old glory raised
One of the men who held it high was the indian ira hayes
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.
Now ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand
But he was just a pima indian, no money crops, no chance
And at home nobody cared what ira had done and the wind did the indians
Dance
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.
And ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home
They let him raise the flag there and lower it like youd throw a dog a bone
He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he had fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for ira hayes
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.
Yes, call him, drunken ira hayes, but his land is still as dry
And his ghost is lying thirsty in the ditch where ira died
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.

song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Two Folk Songs

I. THE SOLDIER

(Roumanian)

When winter trees bestrew the path,
Still to the twig a leaf or twain
Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath,
But that foreknown forlorner pain-
To fall when green leaves come again.

I watch'd him sleep by the furrow-
The first that fell in the fight.
His grave they would dig to-morrow:
The battle called them to-night.

They bore him aside to the trees, there,
By his undigg'd grave content
To lie on his back at ease there,
And hark how the battle went.

The battle went by the village,
And back through the night were borne
Far cries of murder and pillage,
With smoke from the standing corn.

But when they came on the morrow,
They talk'd not over their task,
As he listen'd there by the furrow;
For the dead mouth could not ask-

How went the battle, my brothers?

But that he will never know:
For his mouth the red earth smothers
As they shoulder their spades and go.

Yet he cannot sleep thereunder,
But ever must toss and turn.

How went the battle, I wonder?

-And that he will never learn!

When winter trees bestrew the path,
Still to the twig a leaf or twain
Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath,
But that foreknown, forlorner pain-
To fall when green leaves come again!

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
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Using Boot Camp

twink boot camp
twink camp
twink summer camps
twinks at camp pics
twinks camp
twinlakes camp florence ms
twinlow camp
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twinsburg day summer camp
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twirling camps and texas
twisp horse camp
twisted wakeboard camp
twister baseball camp in torrington ct
twisters gymnastics camp in lakewood
twitchings holiday camp
twlight camp atlanta
two brothers lacrosse camp
two burner camp stove
two burner camp stoves
two can camp orlando fl
two cousins and camp hill pa
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two day camp del valle
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two harbors camp
two harbors camp ground
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two room suite camp verde az

[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
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It Comes - Part 3

(It is suggested that the reader reads Parts 1 and 2 first)

Several marine biologists
now suggested that a giant squid
could be the creature that they were looking for,
but could not explain the blue light.
As a precaution to the present dangers below the equator,
ships were requested that they find suitable ports
to stay in overnight.
Naval Air forces from most countries
searched the seas at night and day
hoping to spot whatever was causing the disappearances.

Dr Roger Maitland of Oxford,
marine biologist now retired
studied the reports on the news.
He looked at charts
and read what the survivor of the Sulu Spray
had mumbled incoherently repeatedly.
He had his own theory about the creature,
but no proven facts.
He believed their might be evidence
on the lifeboat of the Sulu Spray,
evidence overlooked when it was first examined.

Maitland spoke to his colleagues
about his theory and if he was right,
this may only be one of many of these creatures
that might strike at anytime.
The only way to be sure
would be to examine the lifeboat quite thoroughly.

Knowing Maitland’s reputation
and how desperate the situation was getting,
the authorities holding onto the lifeboat of the Sulu Spray
granted him permission to examine it.
No one gave him much chance of find any evidence
as others had examined it before and found nothing.
Unlike the rest, Maitland knew what he was looking for,
and the places where it might be found.

With a magnifying glass and tweezers,
he examined the inside of the lifeboat
lifting minute samples to be studied
closer under a microscope.
In his laboratory a week later,
he examined what he had recovered.
Slowly he began to discover that his theory
was revealing several surprising results.
The creature was a new species

[...] Read more

poem by David Harris
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Lack Of Rain

Lack of Rain

As evening began to fall heavy clouds gathered,
rain tomorrow the meteorologist said, a nice girl
about twenty five years old, and dressed in red.

So the clouds will be hanging about blocking out
stars till the next day when the girl gives the order
for the downpour that will turn into drizzle.

Heavy fighting in Pakistan, didn’t see any rain
though, but billows of black, oily smoke fearful
people trying to flee and a tough talking general.

When morning came it was sunny but quite chilly,
village dogs sat facing the east the meteorologist
had married and wanted a dry honeymoon.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Ballad Of Ira Hayes

(peter lafarge)
Gather round me people and a story I will tell
bout a brave young indian lad, you should remember well,
From a tribe of pima indians, a proud and peaceful band
Who farmed the phoenix valley out in arizona land.
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
Till the white man stole the water rights and the running water hushed.
Iras folks was hungry, their fields grew thick with weeds,
But when war came ira volunteered and forgot the white mans greed.
Call him drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking indian or marine who went to war.
Well, they battled up iwo jima hill, two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again.
And after the fight was over and old glory proudly raised,
Among the men who held her high was an indian, ira hayes.
Call him drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking indian or marine who went to war.
Well, ira hayes returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land,
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand.
But hes just a pima indian, no food, no friend, no chance,
And nobody cared what ira did and when do the indians dance.
Well, ira took to drinking hard, jail often was his home,
They used to let him raise the flag there and lower it just like youd throw a dog a bone.
And ira died drunk early one morning all alone in the land hed fought to save.
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for ira hayes.
Call him drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking indian or marine who went to war.
Yeah, call him drunken ira hayes, but his land is till as dry
And his ghost, well, thats lying thirsty in the ditch where ira died.
Call him drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking indian or marine who went to war.

song performed by Kinky Friedman
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Member Of The Corps

He was small for a Marine,
The dying boy there in the bed.
Three times he'd fought off cancer
but now, inside his head,
a serious infection
would claim his life instead.

Cody Green was only twelve.
All his life he'd loved the Corps.
They made him a navigator,
The insignia he wore.
An honorary soldier
A marine in time of war.

The crises was upon him.
He would not win this fight
A fellow member of the Corps
Stood honor guard all night

There would be a flag draped coffin
for this member of the Corps.
Cody Green, a Young Marine
A Marine in time of war..

poem by John F. McCullagh
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Make This House A Home

Well theres something in us living
Theres something you should know
There was a time for us to fall
Now its time to grow
But you know its not the way
That I intended it to be
Crossing hearts and killing souls
And trying to get down to whats real
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home
I let go of sinking sand wont you help me find a stone
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
Was to make this house a home
All I needed was your hand to hold
I spent so much time alone
I needed your direction
But we re-aligned my broken bones
Well theyre running from a lifeless state
Somehow we lost our hold
All we have with us is change
Left over from what started out as gold
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home
I let go of sinking sand - wont you help me find a stone
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
Was to make this house a home
This is what I give to you
Its flesh and blood
Its body and soul
Wont you take whats left of who I am
And try to see it whole
Im holding you responsible for every word I say
If you feel the brokenness
Wont you try and look the other way
I never meant to be so low
I only wanted you to see
That time was healing someone else
But its tearing apart the very heart of me
This is what I give to you
Its flesh and blood
Its body and soul
Wont you take whats left of who I am
And try to see it whole
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home

[...] Read more

song performed by Indigo Girls
Added by Lucian Velea
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Having Fun

When the clouds in the cosmos wanted to have some fun;
they clashed playfully against each other; fomenting
heavenly droplets of liquid to tumble down in
rhapsodic frenzy,

When the waves in the undulating ocean wanted to have
some fun; they rose and fell merrily with the
exuberant breeze; culminating into a festoon of
magnificently sparkling froth as they dissipated on
the silver sands,

When the battalion of boisterous frogs wanted to have
some fun; they bounced and frisked ebulliently after
midnight; inundating the perpetually still atmosphere
with their brazenly croaking voice,

When the solitary palms wanted to have some fun; they
embedded themselves to unprecedented limits beneath
majestic soil; thunderously clapped thereafter; to
sprinkle the granules in unanimous tandem,

When the fleet of fountain pens wanted to have some
fun; they sketched overwhelmingly funny contours of
their masters; emptying the blotted ink wholesomely on
his tyrannically wretched face,

When the bells in the dilapidated castle wanted to
have some fun; they commenced to nostalgically
reverberate; drowning in sheer ecstasy of the
euphorically tinkling sound,

When the bland glasses of water wanted to have some
fun; they deliberately stumbled when offered to the
unsuspecting visitor; drenching him disdainfully from
head to toe with their clammy caress,
When the sonorously serious eyelids wanted to have
some fun; they winked incessantly at passerby's;
making them the inevitable darling of every
flirtatious heart,

When the army of mischievous red ants wanted to have
some fun; they surreptitiously clambered up the
mammoth elephant's trunk; evoking him to thereby
collapse helplessly towards pathetically cold ground,

When the morbidly aloof spider wanted to have some
fun; it indefatigably ran up and down the periphery of
its web; eventually deciding to perch on the honey
coated biscuit placed by the luxuriously plush
bedside,

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Thinking of tomorrow

I didn’t eat food today; as I wanted to wholesomely famish myself; to
devour
the appetizing chunks of pudding; Tomorrow,

I didn’t sleep blissfully today; as I was overwhelmingly excited to
run;
Tomorrow,

I didn’t play mischievously today; as I wanted to reserve every iota of
my
energy to passionately leap; Tomorrow,

I didn’t drink water today; as I wanted to gulp gallons of voluptuous
wine;
Tomorrow,

I didn’t bathe today; as I wanted to drown my persona in flamboyant
waves of
the salty ocean; Tomorrow,

I didn’t see any object today; as I wanted to view the mesmerizing
beauty of
dawn; Tomorrow,

I didn’t move my legs today; as I wanted to dance unrelentingly all
night;
Tomorrow,

I didn’t revolve my fingers today; as I wanted to sketch intricate
landscapes
with their towering summits in the clouds; Tomorrow,

I didn’t study one bit today; as I wanted to read through volumes of
mystical
tales; Tomorrow,
I didn’t go out today; as I wanted to uninhibitedly explore through the
wilderness; Tomorrow,

I didn’t see the time today; as I wanted to scrupulously count every
unleashing minute tomorrow,

I didn’t smell the air today; as I wanted to inundate my nostrils with
the
enchanting perfume of lotus; Tomorrow,

I didn’t speak today; as I wanted to scream hysterically for hours on
the
trot; Tomorrow,

I didn’t reside in the house today; as I wanted to live the entire

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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All She Wanted

She was a good girl
Been true to herself
Never swayed by the notions of somebody else
Shed had it rough, maybe most of the time
With only one thing on her mind
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
Who was tryin to do the best that he can
All she wanted was a lovin, lovin man
There could be blue skies in her heart
She was waitin for the good times to start
She never wanted diamonds
She never wanted gold
She was holdin out for someone to hold
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
Who was tryin to do the best that he can
All she wanted was a lovin, lovin man
A loving man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
Who was tryin to do the best that he can
All she wanted was a lovin, lovin man
Loving man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man

song performed by Electric Light Orchestra
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Wanted To Tell Her

I wanted to tell her but I stuck to my lies
I wanted to tell her till I looked in her eyes
I wanted to tell her but I stuck to my lies
I wanted to tell her till I looked in her eyes
I wanted to tell her
I needed to tell her
Just like the wind you blew away your happy lovers touch
You bring the blues into my heart just like a rush
I cannot bear the way my heart has helped to keep you close
Of you my babe I cannot get enough
You touch me baby
I loved you to the lines of lies you told when I asked her name
I knew the perfume in your hair just wasnt mine
Did you ever think to notice me when you wasnt home?
I noticed every time
I wanted to tell her but I stuck to my lies
I wanted to tell her till I looked in her eyes
I wanted to tell her but I stuck to my lies
I wanted to tell her till I looked in her eyes
Thought you noticed every time but you didnt notice a thing
Id have to cover up my calls when the telephone would ring
Im tired of you and the things you do and all the things you say
No more babysitting for neurotic girls today
Im thinking that the pain Im going through just to keep you babe
Is something that I should bear
Did you ever stop to notice me when you had nothing?
And I never cared?
Just like the wind you blew away your happy lovers touch
You bring the blues into my life just like a rush
I cannot bear the way my heart has helped to keep you close
Of you my babe I cannot get enough
You touch me baby, dont be mean to me!
I wanted to tell her but I stuck to my lies
I wanted to tell her till I looked in her eyes
I wanted to tell her but I stuck to my lies
I wanted to tell her till I looked in her eyes
I wanted to tell her but I stuck to my lies
I wanted to tell her till I looked in her eyes
I wanted to tell her
I needed to tell her

song performed by Ministry
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ballad Of Ira Hayes

(Peter LaFarge)
Gather round me people and a story I will tell
?Bout a brave young Indian lad, you should remember well,
From a tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and peaceful band
Who farmed the Phoenix Valley out in Arizona land.
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
Till the white man stole the water rights and the running water hushed.
Ira's folks was hungry, their fields grew thick with weeds,
But when war came Ira volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Well, they battled up Iwo Jima Hill, two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again.
And after the fight was over and Old Glory proudly raised,
Among the men who held her high was an Indian, Ira Hayes.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Well, Ira Hayes returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land,
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand.
But he's just a Pima Indian, no food, no friend, no chance,
And nobody cared what Ira did and when do the Indians dance.
Well, Ira took to drinking hard, jail often was his home,
They used to let him raise the flag there and lower it just like you'd throw a dog a bone.
And Ira died drunk early one morning all alone in the land he'd fought to save.
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his lan

song performed by Kinky Friedman
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Film on the Water

tercets, puns

Sir Rule, Ian Ballew and Ock, a marine
set off on a houseboat to study
the difference between greenish-blue and bluish-green.

The deep blue sky on that fog-foggiest of days
they mistakenly thought was the sea
which explains why to us, when they saw a green haze -

Ian whooped, 'It's a film on the water! ' And so...
Sir Rule sent Ock for popcorn and Pepsi,
Ock started to cuss, 'Why? I always have to go! '

If blue means profane and if naive spells out green,
Who wins the Oscar? It's not hard to see -
greenish-blue, naively-profane - Ock, a marine.

or if you prefer:
bluish-green, profanely-naive - still Ock, a marine.

poem by Reason A. Poteet
Added by Poetry Lover
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It Comes - Part 1

International Marine Biologist Conference 1958
Dr Roger Maitland addresses representatives from 31 countries.
Excerpt from his address:
We live in a world that teems with life where new species are being discovered every year. Our oceans are uncharted in the deeper depths. No one knows what might live down there; it is only when something surfaces from the gloom that we discover a more.

June 1979
The cargo ship Sulu Spray was steaming north,
it bulged with cargo from stem to stern.
The moonlit waters were calm.
The Sulu Spray’s radio operator
was talking to another ship within its vicinity.
Suddenly the radio died and the ship vanishes.
There was no mayday signal.
The Sulu Spray disappeared
as if it had never been there.

Coast guard planes were launched
as soon as the alert was raised.
Ships in the proximity of the Sulu Spray
moved quickly to the scene
and started a search for survivors.
As the hours passed,
the outlook looked bleaker.
With no wreckage or debris found.
After a week, the search was eventually called off
and the fate of the Sulu Spray
became just another mystery of the sea.

Two weeks later off the coast of Jamaica
the luxury liner The Princess on a Caribbean cruse
reported nothing unusual
as it sailed through the night time waters.
From the shore, its lights could be seen in the distance
and its music could be heard drifting across the calm waters.
Then everything went quiet
and there were no lights to be seen.
The Princess, her passengers and crew
were never seen again.
Another maritime tragedy
where no wreckage or debris was found.
Yet another mystery to be added
to the ever growing number of vanishings at sea.

July 1979
The lifeboat bobbed in the water
with no hands to steer or guide it.
Abandoned and adrift
when The Wiskom Sail spotted it.
The skipper launched one of his own boats

[...] Read more

poem by David Harris
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It Comes - Part 2

(It is suggested that the reader reads Part 1 first)

August 1979
Seven fishing boats set sail
into the evening on the South China Sea.
Before the midnight chimed
all seven boats vanished without trace,
no wreckage, debris or survivors were ever found,
it was if the fishing boats had sailed
into oblivion on a calm moonlit sea.

Countries around the world wondered
when the next tragedy would strike
as their navies and fishing fleets sailed the seas.
The seas at night were becoming
more dangerous than normal
especially south of the equator.
Top scientists and marine biologist
gathered for an urgent meeting in Mexico
to see if they could figure out
what was happening to the ships.
Their only clue was the last words
of the survivor of the Sulu Spray.

They discussed patterns to any of the disappearances,
only one seemed prevalent in that all
the ships disappeared at night.
No strange sightings were reported
in the areas during the days or nights
before or after the disappearances.
As the meeting went on into the night
the Grafton Bay reported a blue light
moving at speed beneath the water to local coast guard
before it too vanished
and like the rest left now wreckage, debris or survivors.

At the meeting, many theories were being forwarded
of a deep-sea creature of unknown origin.
They were scoffed at as being too fantastic to be true.
If they were true why hadn’t there been
any reported any sightings of such a creature.
The creature if it existed had to be
as big as or bigger than any ocean going tanker
to enable it to sink large ships.
Then there was the question of wreckage,
there has been none.
From any ship, there is always debris,
but there has been nothing.

[...] Read more

poem by David Harris
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Chocolate Cake And Rudi

Chocolate cake and Rudi
and my life is complete
Rudi surmises if only
I had more chocolate
cake I would have felt
better all the time, he
says for a statue I have
amazing powers, I
forgot to say, I’m the
statue of Liberty!

I wonder, will too much
love scare him away?
If he takes another trip
out to sea, I’ll be a stow-
away; why should he
be a marine biologist?
Juliette says I mustn’t
love him so much to
prevent my heart being
broken, I said yea right

I’ll hate him already
and when I have kids
I’ll kick them around
to make sure I’ll never
miss them if they leave
me one day - that’s not
what I meant, she
declared, I said if I
cool down my love
so as to be prepared

For later strife – I’ll be
the cause of the rift,
what a brilliant self-
fulfilling prophecy…

Chocolate cake and Rudi
I’ll just love him to death
I missed him more than
life itself, while he was
gone the world stopped,
the sun went away, now
he is back, the sun came
out, I can see again…

poem by Louise Tredoux
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Grief Is A Paradox

GRIEF IS A PARADOX

Grief is a paradox, the presence of an ab-
sence, mushroom cloud where there once was Elugelab.

This couplet was inspired by a poem by Robert Pinsky, "Grief, " in the June 7th 2012 edition of NYR, which was printed after an amazing article by Jim Holt, reviewing Turing's Cathedral: The Origins of the Digital Universe by George Dyson:

The computer, one might well conclude, was conceived in sin. Its birth helped ratchet up, by several orders of magnitude, the destructive force available to the superpowers during the cold war. And the man most responsible for the creation of that first computer, John von Neumann, was himself among the most ardent of the cold warriors, an advocate of a preemptive military attack on the Soviet Union, and one of the models for the film character Dr. Strangelove. As George Dyson writes in his superb new history, Turing's Cathedral, "The digital universe and the hydrogen bomb were brought into existence at the same time." Von Neumann had seemingly made a deal with the devil: "The scientists would get the computers, and the military would get the bombs."…
And what was MANIAC used for, once it was up and running? Its first job was to do the calculations necessary to engineer the prototype of the hydrogen bomb. Those calculations were successful. On the morning of November 1,1952, the bomb they made possible, nicknamed "Ivy Mike, " was secretly detonated over a South Pacific island called Elugelab. The blast vaporized the entire island, along with 80 million tons of coral. One of the air force planes sent in to sample the mushroom cloud—reported to be "like the inside of a red-hot furnace"—spun out of control and crashed into the sea; the pilot's body was never found. A marine biologist on the scene recalled that a week after the H-bomb test he was still finding terns with their feathers blackened and scorched, and fish whose "skin was missing from a side as if they had been dropped in a hot pan."

GRIEF, by Robert Pinsky

I don't think anybody ever is
Really divorced, said Lenny. Also,
I don't think anybody ever is
Really married, he said. Because

English was really his second language
And because of Yiddish and its displaced
Place in the world, he never really
Believed in his own prose. He wrote

Sentences as a great boxer moves.
Near the end he said "I'm in Hell"—
Something he might have said about
Hunting for a parking space in Berkeley.

Mike too was himself. His last month,
Too weak to paint or make prints,
He sat and made drawings of flowers:
Ink attentive to rhythms of beach rose,

Wisteria, lily—forms like acrobats
Or Cossack dancers. Mike had a vision
Of his body dead on his studio floor
Seen from high above—he didn't feel sad

Or afraid at seeing it, he said, just
Sorry for the person who would find it.
You can't say nobody ever really dies:
Of course they do: Lenny died. Mike died.

But the odd thing is, the person still makes
A shape distinct and present in the mind
As an object in the hand. The presence
In the absence: it isn't comfort—it's grief.

5/28/12 #10343

poem by Gershon Hepner
Added by Poetry Lover
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If I Wanted To

If I wanted to I could do anything right
I could dance with the devil on a
Saturday night
If I wanted to I could turn matches to gold
I could smoke drink swear and I would never
grow old
I wouldn't have to be in love with you
If I only wanted to
If I only wanted to

If I wanted to I could run fast as a train
Be as sharp as a needle that's twisting your brain
If I wanted to I could turn mountains to sand
Have political leaders in the palm of my hand
I wouldn't have to be in love with you
If I only wanted to
If I only wanted to

I could leave tonight
And I would be all right
Stop holding on
If I wanted to
If I only wanted to

If I wanted to I could be as patient as death
Fix this hole in my heart leaking into my flesh
If I wanted to I could turn sparks into ice
There'd never be another woman who could make you
think twice
I wouldn't have to be in love with you
If I only wanted to
If I only wanted to

song performed by Melissa Etheridge
Added by Lucian Velea
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