MAP #85



Theme: Second Generation, Part 2

II. Featured Poetry Theme: 2nd generation, part 2: poems by offspring of poets

1. Salamander by Claire Rattan

One day I caught a salamander.

I remember the last time

I travelled to this wonderful place.

Thousands of acres of forest, with

a quiet solemn river snaking through it.

The salamander I really liked

was the fattest one of them all.

For a long time, I couldn't name him.

Then I thought of a short name. I called him

Fatso.

But I already knew he wouldn't be here

very long, and I would never see him again.

It felt so bad that if I had stayed

near the river where I caught him any longer,

I was going to cry.

So I went back to the cabin

to roast marshmallows

by the fire.

I never saw Fatso again.

But he is there, near the river.

I know it.

Claire Rattan

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2. Untitled by Rebekah Coleman

Sylvie Claire is made of glass

frail and vulnerable alas

she cannot hide her feelings,

conceal them with words

she cannot hide a cracked heart

her every thought is heard

as open as we try to be

she was real

real was she

Though she would try to play along,

would try to run and dance

she couldn't help but be as real

as real as fate and chance

Oh she tried to close her eyes

oh to see life right

but she couldn't change the way she saw,

could not conform her sight

Through her window she would see

normal children made of clay

the children who could fake their way

the child she couldn't be

Poor Sylvie-Claire the child we've made

the girl we'd like to be

the tragic child made of glass

the child we cannot see.

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3. Element (son of Valerie Bridgeman Davis)

The quote is that, "Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely."

And so fitting,

I am happy in a world where happiness is not allowed,

lawlessness is the law,

and Bill Clinton is my role model because he screws the girls I don't have the balls to, and otherwise could not have

in an office that has the top security this side of the world.

Children of children who are my generation

are impressed that I can spell the word damn let alone say it without restraint.

And the hustler's bail-out replaces the repentance of the Lord's Prayer.

But, "oh, we don't own the ships, We just ride 'em to hell."

So, O.K.. I give you that the reason for the first time was against will,

but the second trip and the journeys after?

Not willingly?

No. You see, hell follows its tenants:

A self induced playground that is admittedly standardized by the speakers of the wordplay.

"Repeat after me children!

You will never amount to anything!

And what you do amount to will mistaken for success!"

But what is success except what the corrupted public deems it so?:

6 figures divided by

three virtues to make two kids minus

one digit of morals to match the cars times

one corruption of one spirit in correspondence to the German Shepherd and the cat

And finally,

minus one chance to spiritual acceptance to equal the one-way ticket to...

RIO DE JASATAN, eternal damnation, or

if you prefer for p.c.,hell.

Do the math. This is the corrupted success of the world,

instead of the personal mind that fits the bill,

a body that reaches the goal,

and deserved happiness in a world where happiness is not allowed.

This is the purified success of the spirit. The spirit:

A reality that has failed to be mentioned in a reality where desires come before morals.

Currency is God.

Guns and angered fists are Michael.

And the creator of bad news, AKA the media, is Gabriel.

(The soot ridden reflection of the Holy Disparity.)

Sons are dying at the same time as their fathers.

Daughters become mothers at the same time as their mothers.

And the story is being told without the moral to it.

So here it goes:

The quote is that, "Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely."

So absolutely there will never be an absolute poet.

And as a poet, for however long this poem is and will be,

I have abused the right to have you listen.

For 2 to 3 minutes you have listened to the most potent dose of corruption;

And you listen with intent because the words that defile, which all speak----

Are the power that corrupts.

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4. My Gift From God by Adam Daniel Rice

I lay in bed at night

and wonder, who is this girl

and how does she possess

such grace and beauty.

Such elegance far exceeds

that of any other.

Her body, the stars.

Her face, the sun.

So bright and beauteous

as to damage the eyes

when looked upon.

She kisses me, as if

her lips are solid gold.

She lays her lips upon mine;

me being the inconstant gold miner

that finally struck it rich.

And such a height as heaven

to fall from.

And she, having endured the fall,

wears the face of a bright angel,

sent from God

to make me the happiest

man in the world.

Ask me of my love tomorrow,

and I shall say,

She is my gift from God

and I shall never be unsatisfied.”

for Brittany

by Adam Daniel Rice

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THE SKY by Connor Douglas Rice

I.

The rain and the clouds are so nice,

and everything is just the same,

but the sky is just so beautiful

when the sun rises and sets.

The sky blinks from the rain

and the dark, then I blink back

and I notice it’s all art.

II

I love the sky, it’s so blue.

When I look at it, I love it for you.

It makes all your dreams come true

and then I can take your proof

of the whole world and prove it for you.

Then in the summertime I see

that everything is the same

that the sky is the same,

but it’s really real now

in your dreams.

III

I love the sky, it’s so beautiful,

it’s so full, but when I look around

I see the truth, it makes me

want to look at you.

IV

The trees I love,

but in the sky so blue,

when I look at the sky,

it really makes me want to cry.

The sky is so deep,

it’s so, so blue,

then I look at you.

by Connor Douglas Rice, 3/15/98

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5. LUKIE'S FIRST POEM by Jean Russell

Eyes

Nose

Mouth

Grandma

Ball

Light

Door

Grandma

Dog

Moon

Grandma

Grandma!

(from jean russell)