The Poetry of R.E. Slater: Jan 28, 2014

"Autobiographies of great nations are written in three manuscripts – a book of deeds, a book of words, and a book of art. Of the three, I would choose the latter as truest testimony." - Sir Kenneth Smith, Great Civilisations

"I must write each day without fail, not so much for the success of the work, as in order not to get out of my routine." - Leo Tolstoy

I have never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think the pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again. - John Updike

"The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations." - Lawrence Ferlinghetti

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Tuesday, January 28, 2014

R.E. Slater - Pockets Full of Sunshine (a poem)

Pockets Full of Sunshine

by R.E. Slater

Pockets full of sunshine,

Bursting all around,
Jeckel, Heckle,
We all fall down!

Hear the little fat bird,

Singing on the fence,

Chirping his dailies,

Plimp, plump, plamp!

Gaily we prance about,

Cheerily we sing,

Nothing and nonsense,

Every day and spring.

Hail him, flail her,

See how they run!

Following after,

The bright orbed sun!

Dimples and lashes,

Eyes full of rain,

Falling, falling,

Let laughter come.

Tra la, dee la, tra la, dee la,

Tra dum, tra dum, tra dum!
Hum red roses and daisies
Filling glad hearts with tunes.

Every day’s a new day,

Yesterday is past –

How do we catch the sun,

Holding firm and fast?

Rhymes and riddles,

Feiddle, Fidle, Fum,

Sticks and thimbles,

Seiddle, Sidle, Sum.

Rolling down the grassy hills,

Lying in the sun,

Listening to a summer’s day,

Humming golden tunes.

Shouting, seeking,

Beating all about,

Running, jumping,

School bell’s rung!

Quick! Let us run away,

Upon the dappled paths!

Hiding and seeking,

Within its willow’d stays!¹

Shouting, Singing,

All about the yards,

Crying, Calling,

All is well!

Hark! Bursts a yellow lark,
In breathless beat upon its wings!

Warbling o'er the bluing skies,

Flushed its grainy fields!

Displacing all somber thoughts,

Fled upon their pleasures,

Startling any wayward steps,

Lost upon their treasures.

Away we go across the fields,

Across the burning lanes,

Through the dales and o’er the hills,

Nothing lasts forever....

Till chanced upon a simple shrike,

To hear cajoling laughter –
Fly away, fly away,

Let all be done at last!

Once pondering steps,

Brimming wondering hopes,

Are dashed fair dreams' elixirs,

All mobling² streams' lost wander.

And nowhere lies the mocking jay,

All pleasant voices muted,

Nor gladden feet to daily strike,

Once sunny days and fields.

Dashes, Dashes,

Even stroke³ has come!

Curses, Curses,
Home we must run!

- R.E. Slater
January 28-29, 2014

¹draped willow branches brushing the earth