Guy Conner's Blog

a deprerssig poem from 1967

which trepresemts with remarkable prescience how i feel about politics in 2022

 

 

 

Some Nights I Wake Up Screaming

1967

 

Some nights, I wake up screaming,

Silent, alone-no one hears.

At night, the truth comes calling,

Knocking at my chamber fears

 

It knows, somehow it knows that

I’m useless where I am

It whispers.  Frightful whisper!

That my life is but a sham.

 

 

The alarum bells my banish

My spirit from inside,

But the frightful whisper lingers…

End it all in suicide

 

Another day present...

A Poem Dated by Technology

Hesitation

(from the early 70's - I think)

Fueled by the sort of decision
That comes from foolhardiness or drink,
This time, no fear of derision
This time, you will not stop to think.

Act, and accept her reaction
Do, and let the pain be dull.
Now some small  satisfaction.
Now, while your courage is full.

Slowly, with intense deliberation,
You are advancing down the hall
Focuisng all your concentration
On the number you rmust call

Diial her number! Dial her number!  Only
Think of why you called
I...

Just a hint of politics

i haven't said much about poli tics latelly.  Part of the reason is that i've been spening most of mY time on poetry and other forms of writing. Another reason is rhat, in the crazy world we live in, my  old fashioned form of principled politics(1) had begun to seem outdated.  Now things have gone so far that my way of looking at tihings may seem useful again.

Stay tuned.

 

1. by principloed pollitics i mean yhat spinning is okay , evven necessary, but outright lies are off the table.

 

The post ...

Romeo Montague

Another double dactyl:

:Higgledy-piggledy!

Romeo :Montague

Parting with Juiiet

Did, in a word

Call it "sweet sorrow"'

So oximoronically

Thundderous silence

Was all that was heard

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Another clerihew

Robert FrostStrolled through the woods andFound himself lost.Said he:"Unless I am mistaken,""I've travelled down the road not taken."The post Another clerihew appeared first on Guy Conner.

A Simple Rrequest

A Simple Request
1984
(revised 2022)

Oh, listen, I was never a little boy,
Never felt the gentle hand upon my brow,
Never knew the gentle peace
Of sleep without responsibility

Oh, listen, why not take a chance on me?
I promise I will always listen
To your heartbeat,

I promise I won’t want you
For a mother,
Not ever.

If you will sometimes let me
Be a boy
Just a boy.

If you will sometimes,
In the night,
Lie about the future.

 

 

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A Little Verse from 1965

Come Fly With Me

 

Come fly with me, across the sea –

We’ll visit far-off lands.

Ah, come and go; I want us so

To frolic in the sands.

We’ll dance and sing; do everything

Explorers do and more

Don’t ask me how! The time is now

For both of us to roam

Let’s go today!  What’s that you say?

Your mother wants you home?

 

 

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Unforced Errors

Wrote this last night...

UNFORCED ERRORS

Oh, I’ve known love, and I’ve known joy,
And I’ve been a little boy
Cuddling his Tinkertoy,
And happy in the night.

And now I’m old, and all my fear
Of death just seems to disappear
Although my end is coming near,
I’ve lost my fright.

I’ll go, I think, quite naturally:
I’ll die and I will cease to be -
The goal that means the most to me
Is getting living right.

I live to love, and love to live
My only sin I can't forgive
Is remaining hypersensitive
To...

Back in the Saddle

Hello

I am back blogging again.   In the near future I will have new material to share.  Today I simply would like to refer those of you who haven't been there yet to look at my revised website.   (www.guyconner.com)

Of course, I wouldn't mind if some of you bought a copy of one of my little poetry books (only 99c) and put a review on Amazon...

Guy

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The Palace

Here’s a recently rediscovered poem that I wrote when I was about twenty.  I suspect that the “beatings” suggested in the text were emotional rather than physical: otherwise it seems surprisingly modern.  It didn’t have a title, so I am calling it “The Palace.”

 

In a dark, deserted palace
Where the sun must never go
Lives a bitter, beaten maiden
Whose Fortune I know.

Many men, they have abused her
With their practices unclean
Now she lives in utter darkness
So her sores cannot be seen.

Somet...