Letting Go; a poem
by Richard Wiener
What fathers bear when sons leave
Beggars description. Empty rooms
Still echo with the voices of the past.
The vacant chair at table, silences
That take the place of sharings
With sons we loved so well, still love,
But now in pain at their departing.
Suddenly we’re old, or older at the least.
Suddenly it’s only we, without illusions
Of being young with them, playing that game.
Sons’ leaving seems like a betrayal,
Their chips now on another number, not ours.
And that embrace which we receive at parting,
A consolation prize, a bittersweet conclusion
To all we shared for,oh,so many years,
Now past.
MKP for Me; a poem
by Robert Jacober
Remembrance; a poem
Philos 18
REMEMBRANCE
by Loren Ruh Smith
I was reading the Italian poet
Pier Paolo Pasolini
his writings of the `tradition’
revolutionary poetic tradition
that it’s unknown, misunderstood, or forgotten
by the revolutionary currents that are
just noises in the streets, repetitiously.
LEARNING TO WEEP; a poem
By Eric Diamond
Because so much depends on a walk around the lake,
I take the long trail that circles the green and muddy water.
Brown bees settle on tall field daisies.
Lush moss blankets a fallen elm.
Two deer startle in the brush and clamber up the hillside.
Distant voices muffle through the forest.
The air smells like bluegrass and butterflies.
To each and all, I say this:
You are not my son.
I RELEASE; a poem
By Paul Goldman
I release every single infinitesimal
ion of my being: my thoughts,
my emotions, my desires, and my beliefs,
everything at once.
In this glorious instant, my soul soars
to heights beyond imagining,
as I traverse the farthest reaches of
the Universe. I am nothing, I am
each quantum nano particulate
of matter sailing the electromagnetic
seas at the speed of light.
I release, I release, I release…
(c) Paul Goldman December 10, 2010 All Rights Reserved
BEAT POETS, T’ANG DYNASTY; a poem
By Gabe Heilig
Damn! From the clouds’ soft cliffs
cold winds keep rising.
Li Po, you scribbling tramp, are you
still out there, tracking with me?
Send me a poem. Send it tonight.
Hell, send me a bridge!—
these snow-filled streams
are too swollen to cross.
Above us, squawking arrows
of geese point to no answer.
We earn only a poet’s wealth.
Our words and wallets never were lovers.
Daddy
By Kenny D’Cruz
I know your hands. I know the shape of your fingers and your finger nails. I know how I feel when you open your face and laugh. I know the way you raise your right eye brow and talk from the side of your face when you are joking.
How you hold your glasses when you laugh so much that you wipe your tears on the back of your hand. Your mischievous guilt when you let off a smelly windy one.
For My Progeny; a poem
by Brad Nixon
image by Brad Nixon
I am the wellspring from whence arises
the very essence of your being.
I am the foundation upon which
the house of your childhood is built.
I am the vessel in which
the soul of your youth has been leavened.
I am the fire upon which
the substance of your spirit has been rendered.
What it Means to Be a Man Today
by David McCalib
(Written circa 2 A.M. Sunday, 12/19/2010)
These are challenging circumstances to focus on this now, in a cold room with a migraine at 2 A.M.; I’d rather be warm under five layers or in a hot tub or gently swinging in a hammock on a tropical Pacific island paradise, but I will do my best to focus on this idea, this task that flashed out of nowhere after I was asked to write something and envisioned writing it.
A New Perspective
by Ben Easton
Plunging men into darkness, we sweep their canvases clean,
silencing their stories, but inviting their soul-searching truths.
Listening to voices hushed for too long, we create a sacred space,
surrounding men with eyes as mirrors, reflecting hopes and fears.
Stripping away trappings, we remove their obsolete masks,
revealing raw and alien identities: brothers of a kindred spirit.
Guiding men to go deep within, we show them the ancient way,
accessing wildness and mystery, and unearthing boundless courage.
Men of Service; a poem
by ManWoman
I ask for a vision
so clear so radiant
that it takes our breath away
with its grandeur
I ask for a vision
that heals all men
women and children
My Father’s Son; a poem
by James Herlihy
Did you know what it was like
To face every day as if it were my last;
To awaken every morning in certain dread
That one or both of you would be gone?
Break into your heart; a poem
by Paul Goldman
If like a thief in the night, I were to break
into your heart — what would I find there?
Precious gems tucked away beneath velveteen
cloth, ethereal ancestral songs, and deeper still—
a longing to know your own Creator; the one
who through alchemy’s mystery transformed
the very essence of you into a gift golden.
If you broke into mine, what would you find
beneath the layers? You would find the most
valued treasure of all— yourself enfolded
Changes; a poem
by Stefan J. Malecek
I neither hate
nor depreciate
the self I used to be,
for failures and faults
I could not then avoid,
that now burn brightly
like ingots of stellar mass
deep in my heart of hearts
like a beacon for others,
my brothers,
to follow on their own journey
into the heart of dark shadow
and emerge newborn,
reborn
from the ashes of the past
into the love, joy, and brightness
that awaits each of us
in the golden transformation of the self.
From darkness I approach; a poem
by Devon Strong
As the seasons change at Equinox, it lasts the winters night, from darkness I approach.
As the cold of frost feathered windows, from darkness I approach.
As snowy footprints under star sparkled sky, from darkness I approach.
It is time for changing or renewing the spirit of flesh, from darkness I approach.
Heart Opening; a poem
by Paul Goldman
I opened my heart and found
you comfortably resting inside,
as if you had always been waiting
for the right time when I would
find you.
Had I but known you were here within,
I would have rushed ahead, skipped a few
steps necessary to finally commune
with you.
Surely as nightfall turns to daylight, I have
followed the specific guidance I was given.
Encoded perfectly were the instructions written
in a language that until now would have been
indecipherable.
Where gold is mined; a poem
by Dave Koshinz
A last chance for redemption; a poem
by Paul Goldman
Before the church bell tolls one last time as our ashes
are scattered over the roiling ocean waves, you and I
have choices to make about just how we wish to live—
from the heart of all hearts—
or in the throes of selfish desire
directing others to pleasure our every whim.
Rest assured the outcome solely lies in our hands,
be they in the end dirty or cleansed by the reckoning
of our own accountability.
Falling into silence; a poem
by Steven Lee Mankle
I am falling into silence
deep within the stream
a tiny will
striving to find
a Universal current
without perishing
even in
the dark center
of my pain
Somewhere
out of view
is joy and wonder
tumbling in
a current larger
than our own design
yet even failing
faith is possible
Poetry: A good shattering
by George Daranyi
If the choice is:
Receiving
An old platitude
Or
A comfortable lie
Or
A good shattering
From the truth
Of your life
Choose the shattering
When life delivers
The Big Cut
You could live in
A state of perpetual
disappointment
Of
Pathos
Of
Weakness
Or
You could choose
A good shattering
Choose the shattering
Where you gulp
For air
Like a fish
In a stale pond
-
The ManKind Project® is an international nonprofit education and training organization making the world safer by growing 'better' men. We support over 1000 men's groups in 10 countries around the world. Our flagship training is the New Warrior Training Adventure. Over 45,000 men have stepped out of their comfort zones to make a better life for themselves and their families.
Please support the work of the ManKind Project with a Tax Deductible Contribution.
Translator
