Three Odes
________________________________________________________________




Ode To Father

Abba, dear Abba I remember the day
Uncle Ted came to ask of you if you would be
one of his helpers in digging the grave
for his wife whose life had ceased
just hours before

and you accepted like any old friend would
and you went and you toiled with shovel
you bent your back
and lifted the dirt scoop by scoop
to hollow out the place where he
would shed his tears and see her last

Abba, dear Abba, who will I ask
to be my helper to prepare the ground
for you for your final resting place?

________________________________________________________________







Rave On T. S. Eliot

T. S. Eliot looked to the Bhagavad Gita
and more to give the eyes to help
describe the Wasteland confusion
hatred that was the crown
that crowded the era of the end

And all the better looking out
to find what was then, when
Word made Flesh was real

looking out beyond perhaps
a now sterile Church who flesh is rancid

Yea, no fresh meat upon the alter

Gita and Bible in hands Golden Bough in teeth
he set a course sailing being drawn
Dante his guide Virgil and Homer
his wings being drawn to Living Flesh

Ring, gong, boing sound
the ancient songs quartets, 4 of them

symphonic poem words of Word

As the Nazi Dove descends
upon Little Gidding
let Him come

Catch the showering bullets
in your teeth in your hands
in your wings of innocence

watch them  transfigure as He did
into angels singing with the dying
Blake modern prophet

Rave on T.S. Eliot with Van Morrison
and John Donne and all the great poets
living, dead and yet unborn
rave on that timely timeless, well placed

Word echoing
echoing words
echoing
now
_____________________________________________________







Ode to Herman

Herman Hesse,
I've read your song and tried to sing along
with you but I've failed like you
and are all the wiser

I've followed you through east and west
never bound to either

I've followed you above and below
with open arms for both sun in the high sky
and emptiness in the dark
shadows deep below

I've followed you into celibacy and orgy
without judgement of either just an honoring
of deprivation and excess of the longing
the impulse divine

May you honor and pray for me from beyond
O German Saint of the Inner Path

as I, in frailty try to do the same for you
through word and deed

Thank you for your suffering
Heart bled

upon your novel pages
crisp gems to read

pregnant virgins fresh as snow
each winter morning

Back To Poetry Index
The third ode is to Herman Hesse, my favorite author. Winner of
the Nobel peace prize for literature, Hesse continues to be read in
Europe but has fallen out of fashion in North America at the
moment. I fully expect this will change in due course as he is in my
view, Germany's 20th Century Goethe. With my father and T. S.
Eliot, Hesse has greatly shaped my emerging spirit.       
The second ode is to that tower of cultural commentary, T.S.
Eliot who wrote the "Wasteland" after WWI. After having a
conversion experience and returning to the Church of England,
he wrote a small book of poetry called the "Four Quartets."
The poem is a response of thankfulness to him for the gift of
this book to me as a fellow Anglican and spiritual seeker.
The first, "Ode to Father" is to my very own father and was
written reflecting on a true story. My Uncle Ted still lives
near Violet's B and B. Now there is a story teller if you are
looking for one.