Weekly Poems from Poems for Free: A Philosophical Number Poem and More
FORTUNE COMES IN MANY SHAPES AND GUISES
Fortune comes in many shapes and guises.
It is by choice what one might never choose.
For those who like to limit their surprises,
There's always less to gain and more to lose.
Years bring heartbreak one cannot refuse.
Even so, one's fortune is oneself.
If choice and chance like lovers bring to birth
Good progeny or bad, there is no gulf
Hovering between one's wish and worth.
There is but one ecology, one Earth.
EVELYN, THE MILK-WHITE GIRL
Evelyn, the milk-white girl
With hair like heady wheat;
With rose cheeks in the winter cold
And rose cheeks in the heat.
The blood that rushes to her skin
Is much like her shy soul,
That shows itself despite itself,
Sweet, hesitant, and whole.
I'M NOT YOUR PARENT, NOR ARE YOU MY SLAVE
I'm not your parent, nor are you my slave.
I wouldn't try to say what you must do.
You alone will judge how you behave,
And do what you consider best for you.
But if you love someone, it means you care
How what you do affects the one you love.
It means sometimes that two in love must share
A hard decision one is certain of.
So if your friend still wants you for his own,
It hurts me that you want him for a friend.
Our mutual commitment should be known,
And both of us should such encroachments end.
Love is fragile, delicate, and fine;
To keep it whole, one has to draw a line.
I NEVER THOUGHT I EVER WOULD GET MARRIED
I never thought I ever would get married.
I wanted no restraint upon my will.
But like the wind I wanted to be carried
Wherever wish might take me, yearning still.
And then I fell in love with you, and found
A rock upon which I might build a home,
A place both to and for which I was bound,
So bountiful I had no need to roam.
Freedom cannot be except by choosing,
And choice, if choice it be, of need constrains.
And joy, once had, becomes, for fear of losing,
A horse one rides with firm grip on the reins.
Thus my choice to love you as your wife
Is freely made, yet made for all my life.
SOME WOULD SACRIFICE THEIR DEAREST SORROWS
Some would sacrifice their dearest sorrows
Upon the altar of a hungry faith,
Restoring with bold dreams their torn tomorrows,
Surrendering their reason to a wraith.
But one cannot by will decree the morning,
Nor find the grace to undeclare the night,
Nor live past death to some eternal dawning
Where one might see unveiled the source of light.
No, we are not the chosen of God's children,
Nor are we leaves upon a witless wind,
Nor are we loved except by our companions,
Who are more true the less that we pretend.
We must refuse to know what we don't know,
That we might be what we must undergo.
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, MY DARLING
Happy anniversary, my darling!
All I am is yours, as you are mine.
Perhaps the years erode the boundary line;
Perhaps the fortune fades into the feeling.
Yet we are will, though often not quite willing,
As this year's choice becomes the next year's wine.
Nor without love could we endure the time
Needed to bestow so great a blessing.
In choosing love, unburdening desire,
Viewing passion as a gift to give,
Embracing as we long to be embraced,
Remaining where we would someone remain:
So do we tend both equally the fire
As each becomes the one one needs to live,
Replacing what can never be replaced,
Yearning for what comes again, again.
THANK YOU FOR THE HEART YOUR LOVED ONE GAVE ME
Thank you for the heart your loved one gave me.
How strange that it should beat within my chest!
All are one, and that is what has saved me,
Nor does one truly die till all find rest.
Know that in your loved one's heart a purpose
Yet drives the ancient inborn urge to be.
Our union is not merely on the surface,
Unraveling the words that make me, me.
About the Author:
Nicholas Gordon is a poet and the webmaster of the popular poetry site, Poems for Free at http://www.poemsforfree.com. He holds a Ph.D. in English and American Literature from Stanford University. For most of his working life, he taught English at New Jersey City University, in Jersey City, NJ.