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spacer.gif   Daniel Cleary
Posted by : cj on Friday, December 03, 2004 - 09:17 AM
Poetry:  Click On The Author's Name August Night

Laughter, like laughter of the great Buddha
Hidden, secret laughter, laughter of the belly;
Blossoms, radiates out from a deep source
Setting the old world right, placing the moon
Full in the sky, restoring things to their proper balance.
This August night lovers stroll hand in hand
In many pairs, two by two, contented
Part of the great tune, the great hum
That holds everything.

The Green Dress

Catching a glimpse of you again
This morning in the street,
As you serenely made your way,
Stepping with nimble feet

Across Milwaukee Avenue,
Oblivious of my gaze,
And seeming quietly unconcerned
At how you might amaze:

Wearing a dress of woodland green,
Of such a subtle hue,
To try to put it now it words
Is very hard to do:

It was the green of all the greens
It's possible to see,
What might be called the perfect green
In green simplicity--

I missed a heartbeat then and there,
I stood apart in awe,
And what went on around me then
I neither heard nor saw.


White clouds sailing by my window
As if upon some quest,
An odyssey around the world,
Full of a sweet unrest.

Like blowsy galleons they go
Upon the bluest Main,
A brisk Armada setting forth
To sail the seas again.

There in those regions of deep blue,
Those terraces of air,
Those vauge uncharted distances,
What do they know of care?

In what far harbor will they dock,
In what auspicious isle
Located in what bright Azores
Linger a little while?

Darling Ingred

Darling Ingred, sweet, demure,
A treasure in the heart to keep,
A talisman to keep it pure
When things get perilous and steep.
To shine amidst the daily fray,
The constant rush of images
That assail us, like a ray
Of light, so we don't go amiss.

Darling Ingred, in whose glance
All our hidden dreams awake,
All the wonders of romance,
Doing marvels for your sake,
Underneath your quiet gaze
What is it we could not do
To astonish and amaze,
Ever faithful, ever true?

Darling Ingred, of such grace,
Such equilibrium, such poise;
The beauty of your hands, your face,
Your silent form stills all the noise.
In this brash and madcap scene
You stand there simple as a flower
Tranquil among leaves of green
And glow with unassuming power.


I've had my share of kisses,
Love's bouquet of blisses
From women old and young
And so I go along
Collecting more and more
Adding to the store.
As I was on my way,
for instance, just today
Feeling somewhat glum
Or just a bit ho-hum,
With nothing on my mind,
You might say flying blind -
A girl of wondrous grace,
He soul shining in her face
With a certain dash and flair
Suddenly was there.
We stopped for a while to talk
There in our headlong walk
Inconsequent chitter-chat,
Talk about this and that.
But this I would have you know
Before we had to go
There on Dviision Steet
Our two lips chanced to meet:
A peck, the slightest buss
It seemed independent of us.
Say I am old and grey,
Say I have had my day,
Say I am sometimes blue
But say that this happened too.

Elegy for Rocky

Though not a vast important thing,
The passing of a cat;
Something for which to bow ones head
Or take off ones hat;

Within its own small range of grief
It's no less harrowing;
And can, with its own weight of words,
A solemn feeling bring.

So here without much more ado
I'll bid farewell to Rock,
His individuality,
His solid cat-like stock;

And say before he disappears,
Lost in the wind and air,
That if there's such a place as Heaven
I hope to find him there.

The Bee and the Butterfly

I often now look back and sigh
When I think of those days that used to be
A long time ago when I was a boy

And take my pen and humbly try
To capture that felicity
When I followed the bee and the butterfly.

I seemed to feel a constant high,
Or so it now appears to me
A long time ago when I was a boy

As on from brake to bush I'd fly
With such an unselfconcious glee
When I followed the bee and the butterfly.

The quiet countryside heard my cry,
My war whoop of exultancy
A long time ago when I was a boy.

Who would have ever thought that I
Would one day taste mortality
When I followed the bee and the butterfly

A long time ago when I was a boy.

Written on Shakespeare's Birthday

Eternal poet may your sleep be sound
Among the just, let none disturb your bones,
Cool and secure, sequestered underground,
With telegrams and raucous telephones
Offering congratulations on this day.
Your fame so much has spread around the world
They know of you in Boston and Bombay;
Your works are thought more valuable than gold.
The rest is silence, so, goodnight sweet Prince;
Be you not troubled any more by these:
The grinding rack, the thumb-screw and the wince
Of fame, the adulation without cease.
Enough to know that you're remembered well
In every daisy yet, each shy bluebell.

The Mudlark

My little lark, my little mudlark
Sings her songs in a frail, spare, melodious voice

Going up and down the scale with trills and spills
And all kinds of delicious waverings.

I let her do it seated on my side of the car
And make no commentary whatsoever.

What can I say but that I like it very much
And what's more I like to see her happy in herself.

1: At the Rendezvous

A yellow moon hung in the sky
Down at the corner Rendezvous
The air was tinged with purple dye
While lanterns glimmered red and blue
And all around to tease the eye
Danced colors then of every hue.

Was it my fancy, too, or not,
A Harlequin was present there
Metamorphosed on that spot
With lofty, unassuming air
In velvet mask and tricorn hat
And lozenge patterned underwear?

And was there also a Pierrot
In silken suit of shimmering white
With pom-pom buttons in a row
And satin slippers smooth and light,
Creating an astounding show
A cavalcade of pure delight?

It was all there before its time,
Before we yet could voice a word,
Or had an inkling how to rhyme,
Or had an eye for the absurd:
Carnival nights of love and wine
That we, as yet, could not afford.

2: Ballad of the Blissful morning

Awake, before the house is yet astir,
Listning in silence to its mellow sleep,
Its distant snores, the sentient steady purr
Of measured breathing, somnolent and deep;
I feel now as my pulse begins to skip,
Pretnaturally aware, alert and spry,
A child of morning yet, no silly sheep:
It's as if one could see beyond the sky!

The garden is awake, the insects chirr,
The songbirds chortle, things that crawl and creep
Are out about, far off you hear the whirr
Of traffic, nearby a car gives a beep;
So cheerfully banal you want to weep;
A neighbour shouts or someone gives a cry,
Ordinary things, yet by no means cheap:
It's as if one could see beyond the sky!

The sun is up, outside the busy air
Alive with noises, gathers in one sweep
The sights of morning, magically clear
From hill or hollow to the highest steep;
The buildings that surround us all aheap
Bring now a sweet entrancement to the eye;
Something to hold and to forever keep:
It's as if one could see beyond the sky!

I think of all the treasures I may reap
This day, as out of bed I start to leap
Possessed by what can only be called joy:
It's as if one could see beyond the sky!.

3: Immortal Love

Immortal love born in a single glance,
A moment in the city's startling flow;
With crowds of busy people on the go
Back and forth, as if they were in a trance.
A thing that might have happened just by chance,
A simple accident for all we know;
And yet it left our silly hearts aglow
And dizzy with the rapture of romance.
What was it then: a glance, a look, a smile;
Just sheer good spirits or something deeper yet?
Something just fashioned only to beguile
The passing moment and to banish fret?
Or something destined to outlast the toil
Of many years, we never will forget?

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