lines upon lines/ contemporary
poetry in traditional forms /
by robert hughes-
lily peak publishing.
lines upon lines
by robert hughes
Robert Frost, four-time Pulitzer prize winner and considered by many to be the greatest American poet, often stated that he would as soon write free verse as play tennis with the net down. Conversely Ezra Pound, a well known contemporary of Frost (and also an award winning poet) in describing his efforts to free poetry of fixed meter and form wrote in his Cantos "to break the pentameter, that was the first heave."
These contrasting statements highlight one of the dilemmas faced by the poet ---to write traditional verse or to write prose poetry. In this collection of poems, Robert Hughes strings up the net and volleys with traiditional verse. The poems in this collection explore the world of poetic form and most use traditional fixed patterns with the occasional use of variant structure. Explanatory notes are included to guide the reader through the maze of forms, as well as to point the reader to other poems using the same forms.
Robert Hughes has degrees from the University of Utah and Stanford University and has studied at the Yale-China Center at the Chinese University of Hong kong.
He currently lives in Vietnam.
Sanpate
A gift from God to Utah there she lay
Between the desersr and old Horseshoe Peale,
A land of refuge where the Danes could pray
For overlasting glory to the meek.
These forty-niners sought eternal gold
To live the holy principl in peace
They raised a sanctuary as foretold
Then swore with oaths the law would never cease.
The principle eternal met its turn ---
Her son and daughters thrown throughout the earth
Yet to the valley hopeful hearts do yearn
When searching sacred roots of greater worth.
Their father's faith, though somewhat rearranged,
The hills are everlasting and unchanged .
Dear Aunt Clara Hughes
Joseph Smith,
His life was surrounded in myth
Therefore th simple exclamtion
"He was the Prophet of the Restoration."
Brigham Young
Known for his witty tongue
If I ever meet him face to face
I'll thank him for saying "This is the right place."
John Taylor
Met the Carthage jailor
"The Kingdom pf God or Nothing was his cry,
Considering the persecution, I understand why. "
Willord Woodruff,
In pictures appears gruff,
But if you read his extensive diary
You' ll find he was gentle, as well as fiery.
Lorenzo Snow
A humbler man none ever could know
He brought the Church back from the brink
With tithing, of course, what did you think?
Joseph F. Smith,
Led some stubborn oxen forthwith,
Crossing the plains was not too brief,
Stubborn oxen became his beef.
Heber J, Grant,
When asked to sing, said "I can' t."
But his work and dream
Brought the faith closer to mainstream.
George Albert Smith,
Has little to rythme with
So I will not mumble or stumble,
I' ll just say he was vry humble.
David O. McKay
Started each day
By kissing his wife
This lasted hos whole life.
Joseph Fielding Smith,
Was about our only monolith
For having a gospel answer for anything queried
A task from which be never wearied.
Harold B.Lee
Efficient as he could be.
Looked after our welfare when things were depresssing,
He left us no greater blessing.
SpencerW. Kimball,
On the basketball court was quite nimble,
(And as an aside,
I imagine it helped him lengthen his stride.)
Ezra Taft Benson.
To the nation was an ensign
He was a national secretary
In Civil War times when life got scary.
Howard W. Hunter,
Could not have been blunter,
"Follow Christ"he said,
And then he was dead.
Gordon B. Hinckley,
With clear eyes that are twinkley,
Now think it's official --- not runner,
He's got a keen sense of humor.
Mekong
Across the Plain of Reeds
the Dragon River feeds the land
When rains come it expands
then floods, wiping the sand bars clean,
The source of living seen in rice-
rich paddies gathered thrice
each year through sacrifice), but none
work harder than the one
flowing under the sun each day,
Congested waterway ---
moving vast array of goods
and worker's livelihoods
carved in exotic woods and sewn
in brillant cloths, all shown
in floating markets thrown beside
canals that spread out wide
Small sampans quickly glide along,
the sound of morning-songs
from geese and cranes prolong the time
of echoed bamboo chimes,
until the fruit bat rythmes its call.
with evening songs that fall
in mangroves swamps where tall thin stilts
hold up the wood homes built
above the flood borne slilt . A grin
slips out from deep within
the woman with a thin cone hat
of bamboo carved in slats,
the grin masks the pain that she fears
Within a hundred years
uncounted are the tears that flow,
but where the river goes
it feels her pains and knows her needs
Phuket
The hills look lush and green
The sun feels warm, the sky shines blue
The beach lies white and clean,
The sunsets are romantic, too.
The air feels moist that breezes through the slcies
The food tastes too good to be true.
The crashing of the waves will hypnotize.
The friendly people smile with twinkling eyes
The voices sing-song with delight
The sensual fleshpots slowly mesmerize.
The incense fills the temple site
The music plays into the night.
The body begs for more The old life as a bore.
Kuala Lumpur
The artist framed the flowers in her mind
then mIxed the brightest pigments she could find,
she wove some cloth in swatches as milk
then splashed bright orchids on the virgin silk
and wore the work of art on cIty streets.
A crafstman sensed the beauty flowing by
and viewed his craft behind an artist's eyes
new buildings pushed up through the azure blue
with graceful arches sweeping imto view,
and shin twin sculptures towered over crowds
beside a spire that scared into the clouds.
And now, despite the crafstman's arrogance
colors still flow in simple elegance.
ROBERT HUGHES
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