07.04.08
Posted in Poetry at 4:55 am by muz4now
Twice, on a Thursday in June
I saw you look at me.
It wasn’t my idea that my heart
would jolt to a brief stop
each time you glanced.
It could have been in Paris
or Sydney or
anywhere we’ve been or
haven’t been. Once, twice
and again.
Not on the one glance
and not on the twice
did I bother to travel
somewhere else or to
someone else.
I am grateful that it was me.
That it was you.
That the glances were ours
in Adirondack chairs
on our back deck.
Copyright 2008, all rights reserved, by Stanley Stewart Sawyer
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02.20.07
Posted in Poetry at 12:34 pm by muz4now
as the sinewy caress
of a dancer in her dress
like the moistness and the warmth
of the singer’s breath
ev’ry tendon, ev’ry muscle
joined in concert for the movements
that will pipe the pipes, drum the drum,
cause the strings to undergird
hear the melody
dance the harmony
let it play within my body
let it sing with my soul
i can know the dancer’s grace
the lofting melodies
or the chorus’ heady, wafting intertwining
while orchestral counterpoints spin
lap up the sweet sounds
the well-muscled flesh
never doubt their pathway
into heart’s hideaway
hear the melody
dance the harmony
let it play within my body
let it sing with my soul
Copyright 2003, 2007 by Stanley Stewart Sawyer
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Posted in Poetry at 12:28 pm by muz4now
why not gather these wounds into a pot?
There to look at them for what they are:
this one pained indifference
that led to your obsession
with caring for others’ hurt
while yours lingers on.
This one my failed attempt
to yet again create
a perfect marriage in which
to heal the injuries of boyhood
under mothers wing
and now to find fresh slices
in my psyche.
This is to give wounds power.
They have enough already.
Let’s take some of their hold away
By setting them out in the light of day.
Copyright 2001 by Stanley Stewart Sawyer.
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10.03.06
Posted in Poetry at 9:05 am by muz4now
Lancaster County
Must I be part of this humanity that squanders away its youth:
Whether in distrust of their spunk and spirit,
Or in the bloodbath of gun shots in schools and playgrounds?
May I part with this humanity that is so inhuman when it comes
To smooth-skinned young faces and tiny-hand graces?
Is my becoming not tied up in theirs in ways that
No one can dismember with disrespect or disgraceful
“Firepower”. Don’t be distracted by the analysis and blaming.
Remember to mourn the departure of the dead or
Disenfranchised child. Either one is a blotch on our
Humanity. Only one leaves no recourse at all.
Only one leaves no possible recourse at all.
(Copyright 2006 by Stan Stewart and Music for the Moment. All rights reserved.)
– Written on October 3, 2006 — the day after Naomi Rose Ebersole (7), Anna Mae Stoltzfus (12), Marian Fisher (13), Mary Liz Miller (8), and her sister Lena Miller (7) were murdered; Charles Carl Roberts IV (the shooter) committed suicide and several others were wounded at a shooting at an Amish school in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.
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08.16.06
Posted in Poetry at 1:08 pm by muz4now
I’m honored to present one of the first poems by my niece. Enjoy!
Listen, Listen
Hear the water rushing.
Look up, Look up
See the moon rising.
Listen, Listen
Hear an owl hooting on the last day of summer in the dark, dark woods.
Amelia Bowman (8 yrs. old)
2006
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05.15.06
Posted in Poetry at 11:41 am by Marlene
Thank you for the invitation, Stan… here’s a poem from my journal.
…
Dry harvest in the poverty of rains
Tilling the days, pulling up weeds of regret
Sudden petals…a single flower
Barren plain startled by crimson
Fragrance deep as velvet beneath the touch
From what hand, from what seed were you born…
I do not remember sowing this blood in bloom
This flower, the color of heart’s precipice and August storm
Pluck the velvet from the dirt with a hunger for beauty
More rare than hunger for bread
Pluck the velvet from the dirt, run, face heaven with gratitude
Dance with petals blowing, spilling red rain into the wind
Marlene’ Eagle Druhan Copyright 2006
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Posted in Commentary at 11:14 am by Marlene
Stan, how wonderful to see your work posted. Hope you will do this regularly- this world needs more poetry! Amen. I love your “in the moment” philosophy- something we all need to be reminded of. Not easy these days, so thanks.
Blessings and keep it coming!
Marlene’ Eagle
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05.02.06
Posted in Poetry at 3:17 pm by muz4now
Please
Sit down here
I have a story to tell you
It’s a tale of wholeness, oneness, well-being
It’s about sitting on a wave-washed beach
Under a pre-industrial, soft-shining sun
Soaking up vitamin D
Straining at nothing
Drinking in the sounds of the surf
This story is about smelling
The drench of flower-scents
With no worries of inflamed sinuses
Only the freshness of blossoming life
Or about running hands through
Grass
Hair
Fleece
Fur
Sensing each flitting touch (or sensate brushing past)
As if It were the first and last of all
Being
Becoming
Finite and lasting
It’s about smiling with joy
At meeting each person
Known
Unknown
Each one loved like a sibling
It is about the not-yet
And the here-and-now
And while it is the story I have to tell you
It is not fully my story
Not yet.
Stan Stewart Sawyer © 2006
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04.27.06
Posted in Commentary at 12:21 pm by muz4now
“For Me To See” was written during my courtship with Anita in 2001. Anita lived in PA and I lived in CA at the time. We met when Anita came to a workshop in CA and I was the resident musician for the workshop. I was smitten. I came alive. Whahoo! It was an amazingly enlivening time out of which came many poems.
This is one that I recently revised. Enjoy reading…
Stan
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Posted in Poetry at 12:19 pm by muz4now
For Me To See
For me to see this deep longing for what it is
I would need to dive deep into myself.
Swimming there I would see all these desires
That thrive in my ocean.
Take a deep breath. I do not know how far
The bottom is from this surface.
Down. I reach the rocks, the kelp, the shadowed
Mush of algae, rot and who knows what.
This is the place of longing.
Desire roots itself in this tactile loam.
Sink into the dark places,
Shadowed by Illumination itself.
No other light can so much dim
The very dimness of seaborn night.
Stretch out your hand. Can you reach the bottom?
Or is it enough to see this life-filled place?
I stretch out my hands and find one touches
Molten core, the other: flesh held in by water’s weight.
For me to see this deep longing for what it is
I would need to dive deep into myself.
Swimming there I would see all these desires
That thrive in my ocean.
Stan Stewart Sawyer © 2001, 2006
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