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In
Memory Of
Dale Robert Anderson
1920-1997
Poet, friend,
and mentor.
A POEM
should have a name
violate no word
contain no unnecessary words
permit a range of interpretations
none of which are wrong
never hoist itself on its own syntax
avoid the banal, trite, and
distorted images
use metaphors that mesh
never clash
and like the boxer
dance like a butterfly
sting like a bee
© Dale Anderson
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META
There are afflictions
more limiting than mine.
I am not blind;
the beautiful and sordid
are available to me.
My golden ear brings me
ecstacy and static.
There is pleasure in the
tender touch, pain from
the thorn and thistle,
transportation in aroma,
flight from miasma.
There are multitudes of
sensations beyond the senses;
extensions of my mind
beyond today and tomorrow
beyond the probable
but not beyond the possible;
a seeking after that
which surely lies within
this mutant psyche
expanding with the universe.
© Dale Anderson
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I Hear A Mermaid Singing
for Catryce
You say I am important in your life;
I am an ear attuned to words that leave
your tongue but issue from a heart in strive,
a soul in search of something else to believe.
You say the muse sits ever near your ear,
persistent builder weaving nests of wisps
of sound and snips of music soft and clear
that form into a song upon your lips.
This I perceive to be your real self,
the you that’s truly beneath the mask
of womanhood and motherhood, the Delft
pure sheen of porcelain in which you bask.
Within your fragile shell, transparency,
I hear a mermaid poet sing to me.
© Dale Anderson
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Ode To A Survivor
for Catryce
Among those I hold most dear, you are
above them all, most precious and most fair,
close to my heart, the perfect avatar
of a woman at her greatest, her most rare.
You suffer all the pain that comes your way,
yet rise above and face the next unknown
to conquer it with strengths so deeply borne
they must have come from heritage in play
since far beyond your memory, but honed
by time and laurel wreaths by others worn.
© Dale Anderson
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