PLAGIARISM  OR  CANIBALISM?

I have digested my favorite poets:
Levertov, Bishop, Frost,
Cairns, Dickinson, Jeffers,
Updike, Stevens, Oliver,

Berry, Eliot, Sandburg,

Seferis, Heaney, Rumi,
and obviously oodels of others….
as well as Second Isaiah, sections of Ezekiel,
some Psalms and some prayers.

Many of their particulars fed my soul.
Tennyson was right when he wrote
in his poem, “Ulysses,”
“I am part of all that I have met.”

Being single, I have a peculiar pattern
of going to bed with a book of poems,
swallowing one or two poems
like the Advicor pill and aspirin
I’m prescribed to take at bedtime.
Two pills – two poems –
and I’m off to sleep.

Ooops … should I mention a complication?
Some nights there is that one poem
that keeps me awake all night –
as the exaggeration goes –
but it keeps repeating on me –
till it becomes me

in the belly of my mind,

in the belly of the dark night.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

Here are the full names of the poets mentioned above:

Robinson Jeffers (1887-1962)

Mary Oliver (1935- )

John Updike (1932-2009)

Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979)

Robert Frost ( 1874-1963)

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Denise Levertov (1923-1939)

Seamus Heaney (1939 - )

Scott Cairns (1954- )

Rumi or Mawlana Jalal ad-Din

Muhammad Balkhi (1209-1273)

Wendell Berry ( 1934 - )

T.S. Eliot (1888-1965)

Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)

Wallace Stevens (1879- 1955)

Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Geroge Seferis ( 1900-1971)

HOW SO?

All mornings are different.
All mornings are the same.

All lives are different.
All lives are the same.

All jobs are different.
All jobs are the same.

All sins are different.
All sins are the same.

All prayers are different.
All prayers are the same.

All tears are different.
All tears are the same.

All nights are different.
All nights are the same.

All mornings are different.
All mornings are the same.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

ALONE IN THE

KITCHEN QUESTIONS

Does God cry and laugh and sing?
Does God wait to watch the sun rise and sun set?
Does God enjoy a child enjoying a lollypop?
Does God know the taste of a morning cup of coffee?
Does God read the obituaries
or the morning newspaper Op-Ed columns
or the sports stories from the night before?
Does God wince when an amputee
is putting on his morning leg?

God do You have questions?

God, sometimes I would like to have some answers.

God, sometimes I feel like I’m living
in the freezer part of the refrigerator.

God, I bet You don’t know what that feels like.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

GULL

A gull
posed proudly on top
of a copper pedestal.

Stood there confident,
a top model
at the Annapolis Boat Show.

Stood there long enough
for me to grab my camera
and digitize her* forever.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

Okay, she might be a he. I don't know

these things at times.

Ornithologists of the world,

let me know. Thanks.

NON-CONVERSATION

BETWEEN THE MOUNTAIN

AND THE VALLEY

Mountain: “Wait a minute! When you’re on top, you can see an awful lot – you get the big picture - and you're not.”

Valley: “Of course you can see the big picture. However, when you’re in the valley, when you’re on the bottom, when you’re in the midst of things, when you're upclose and personal, you can see a lot of things that you up there on the top might not spot. There are things that happen down here, that you never seem to hear or to care about. You’re too far away to hear this – but I’ll say it anyway: ‘Come on down and ask questions, questions, questions? Better: come on down and listen, listen, listen? Watch! Watch! Watch! Come on down and talk and walk around with us once and a while? You might learn something.’"

Boss: “Wait a minute! When you’re on top, you can see an awful lot – you get the big picture - and you're not.”

Worker: “Don’t you realize, when you’re the boss, people hide things from you? Don’t you realize that people in the work place are not going to blow whistles – lest they get labeled a ‘Trouble Maker’ and it might put their job in jeopardy? Don’t you realize you don’t see as much as you think you see – as well as, as much as you used to see? Have you forgotten those things that used to rub you the wrong way when you were on the bottom? It’s the history of the world: people have always complained about the king being out of touch. And teenagers complain about parents and teachers and coaches. Parishioners complain about priests. Priests complain about bishops. Do bishops complain about the pope? Some might – but only the ones who have gone as far as they think they can go. Oops. Sorry! That's was a low blow. I didn't mean to say that. Can I take that one back?”

Boss: [Silence]

Worker: "Ooops! Wait, there's one more thing. Come on down and compliment people - especially the people who do the little things and do them well. Everyone is not on the eternal coffee break. There are lots of people down here doing the things that make this whole thing work."

Boss: [Silence]

Worker: "And oops! There's another thing. Salary. Your salary our our salaries? I'm sure you're rushing down the mountain to talk about that one.

Boss: “Wow! Don't they do a lot mumbling and grumbling down there? What's all this noise and hubbub about? Why are they so picky, picky, picky? There would be a lot less complaining, if they only knew what I know, if they only had more experience like I have had, if they only had to worry about budgets and time frames and keeping this mountain from crumbling, if they only had the big picture, and see what I see.”

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

FOLDING   AND  UNFOLDING

MY TENT

It’s morning – time to wake up.
It’s morning – time to get moving.
It’s morning – time to pull up the pegs,
fold my tent and get on the trail.

It’s evening – time to stop.
It’s evening – time to find a place to rest.
It’s evening – time to unfold and peg my tent,
to pull together my day, to close my eyes.

It’s night – time to sleep.
It’s night – time to dream.
It’s night – time to journey deep,
to follow the trail into my great divides.

It’s morning ….

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

FREEDOM – SLIPPING AWAY

Ropes, thick tan
heavy hairy dock ropes –
the reality of being tied down,
held here by ropes
on dark sold iron posts,
nailed to the dock,
my life’s days slipping away,
but he knew, in the morning,
he would slip off and slip away
into the bay – into the open ocean –
into freedom, once more
heading out into the open sea.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009