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Best Poems From
GREENWOLFE 1962
(MARCH 23, 1951)
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1.
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A Friend (The Valentine's Day Poem)
A friend to light a candle
When darkness overcomes.
A friend to hold you closer
When distant thunder drums.
A friend to gently tie you
When sirens sing your name.
A friend with words to soothe you
When life's a losing game.
A friend to cool your passions
When passions take their hold.
A friend to warm you gently
When a frozen heart's too cold.
A friend to spread contentment
As seasons wax and wane,
Make sense of love's confusion,
And bear life's grief and pain.
A friend who knows this season
Of love; both yours and mine.
A friend, another reason,
To send this Valentine.
GREENWOLFE 1962
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2.
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Lara (Inspired by Dr. Zhivago)
Oh Lara, let me tell you
If I may, this one more time,
How much I really love you,
In poetry and in rhyme.
I see our love more clearly,
Though I'm blind in love with thee.
I hold your love much closer,
For it's yours through which I see.
Your voice is, oh so soothing
As your loving sounds come through.
It keeps me ever yearning
For the sounds of loving you.
I feel loves sweet sensation
Every time I hold your hand.
And draw you ever closer
For that feeling, oh so grand.
Your kisses last forever
As we hold our love in place,
And taste sweet fruit and nectar
When our loving lips embrace.
I smell your pleasant fragrance
As I wander near and far.
Thankful to the girl I love
For the flower that you are.
Oh, Lara, please remember
All the things we lovers say
Are often gone tomorrow,
Placed in dreams of yesterday.
But if you've found contentment,
For I know I've found the same.
We'll have our love forever
And we'll call it by your name.
I wish to dedicate this poem to Boris Pasternak for
the book, David Lean for the direction, Maurice Jarre
for the music, and to Omar Shariff whose portrayal of Zhivago inspired me to become a poet, and finally to Julie Christie
whose image of Lara made this poem possible after 35
years of waiting for the gift to arrive.
GREENWOLFE 1962
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3.
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A Laptop Universe
'Gee, you're looking good today'.
I said as I looked down.
He winked a bit and slightly smiled,
But never made a sound.
'Yes, you're looking good today '.
I said in joyful cheer.
I would have hugged him oh so tight,
Could I have held him near.
He was there, just as he was,
Sure all there was of him.
A silent head, without a form.
A tech, in charge of them.
The wires and plugs that kept alive
The head of my best friend.
So he could live another day,
of life, that may not end.
The table there on which it lay,
A laptop universe.
Sadly holding this display.
How could a fate be worse?
They'd made for him a phony form,
Just as he once had been.
They sure need a place called Hell,
To put these _______s in.
I pressed a tab on his display
And he soon came alive.
What ere it was, it seemed as though,
He had a good hard drive.
I heard his voice as it had been.
Amazing, what they do!
'My friend, I'm glad you came today.
I don't see much of you '.
I tried to smile, it must be him,
I thought there after all.
Science plays such tricks on us
So often in this hall.
He talked to me, I talked to him,
For just a little while.
I wonder at such things as this,
Our lives of endless guile.
I left the lab of tortured souls
And looked out at the stars.
Perhaps they did such things as this
Once long ago, on Mars.
I breathed the air, such as it was;
With all its smoke and grit
And prayed I'd be at peace someday
As just a part of it.
GREENWOLFE 1962
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4.
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November Love (My First Poem) (Two Versions)
Below, you will see two versions of my very first poem.
Its important to understand that the first version of the poem
is exactly as I wrote it at 6: 15 to 6: 30 PM on November 2nd
1970. I made no changes to it. It is also important to know
that this was, in fact, my first ever attempt to write a poem
of any kind whatsoever. The second version is modified from
the first because I wanted to demonstrate how a few simple
word changes can convert a rather average poem of some
quality into a poem of great quality and structure.
In early November the air is clear
With many sounds of lovers near.
Not as the April birds that sing
Nor as the Sunday church bells ring.
But rather to the rhythm of rain,
The hearts of lovers beat again.
For it's not true love that blooms in spring
Nor is it of love that birds do sing.
Rather of that love soon gone
And never seems to carry on.
That April love that all partake,
But very few ever make.
It's all year long this false love swells
Till in November true love dwells.
In November the air is clear
With many sounds of lovers near.
Not as the April birds that sing
Nor as the Sunday church bells ring.
Rather to the rhythm of rain,
The hearts of lovers beat again.
It's not true love that blooms in spring.
Nor is it love, that birds will sing.
But rather of that love soon gone
Which never seems to carry on.
That April love that all partake
And very few will ever make.
It's all year long this false love swells
Till in November, true love dwells.
I have removed the voting option on this poem
and placed it in my Hall Of Fame, due to its
history described above and its usefulness as
an example to the readers.
GREENWOLFE 1962
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