THE POETS

In the beginning
was the Logos
of the Creator
with its words and psalms
then the passing of Torah
to the generations
from the poet David
hidden in the shepherd king
or have you heard us sing
out to the nations
the shout out of Moses
Aaron and Miriam
in Exodus and Numbers
from the great "I AM"
to the generations
or reading Solomon's maxims
or taking the risks of lions
and fiery furnace
when heeding Daniel's part
who read God's heart
inspires, stirs ,calms
Zion's desire for worship
in the Old World hours
reaches the ships of the new
as the awakening Puritans
empowers raising
the pillar of fire
for the New Judah Pilgrims
of America
praising with their lyre
who gave us a purified desire
who tarried with her poets,
were married and were buried
in their fabulous generations
yet the Word continued
in the miracle tradition
uncrowded and nursed
by Emily Dickinson
who labored as one alone
amid the raucous crowd
trying to atone in her lore
to take away man's
heart of stone
or like our proud Whitman
like Lincoln to have us free
with a language's majesty
a comforter of justice
in our time of Civil War
we learned from Amy Lowell
and studied under Robert
you who must choose well
must search for language
on a wisteria path
for poets who are our guides
dwelling in so many areas
we quote Juan de la Cruz
and Teresa and various saints
while baptizing in a church bath,
now we are faintly realizing
what it takes in life to cope
from poems and scattered prose
at strife of reviews on Poe or Plath
guiding us in their dicey imagery
searching for lyrics on hand
even on the New England snow
we wish on our bed
for a ready Muse
within reach of pen and ink
with energy to make us think
like our century's John Ashbery
who confides to us
from his quirky imagination
in a new way of critical scope,
or with noted gentility,
we meeting with Gary Snyder
on the Northern Sierra slopes
when he quoted with Zen's ability,
then we can all go back
to awaking the presence
of a children's chorus
as give us another chance
at a Blakean and Harlem
Renaissance in resonance
or hear the rants of thunder
of a starry eyed Prometheus
or gaze at the wonder
we chant by Jesus' hard cross
and caught unaware by the rhyme
by the bard Edith Sitwell
Eliot, Stevens or brother Auden
in a more modern timely romance
who belong and are begotten to us
you may also give us a line
in a song for our scarred generation
that your words may become divine
so put your hands in mine.