The Daily Poem

ROOFS OF SIENA 

O take me away to the roofs of Siena,

Alone in a window of memories lost.

Away in the distance the Torre del Mangia

   Looms as it did in those days long ago.

   Remembering you, and feeling as though

This place where our paths in a yesterday crossed,

   May cross once again in the dark streets below.

It wasn't quite here, but I'm sure it was close,

This view from this window seems nearly the same.

And hidden from view the Piazza del Campo

   Where strolling we first ever spoke of desire,

   Pledging our hearts the true love they require;

A moment in time with no adequate name,

   Something like air mixed with laughter and fire.

O take me away to the roofs of Siena,

And let me remember your beautiful face.

We tossed silver coins in the blue Fonte Gaia

   Not telling the secrets we knew that we shared,

   Chasing in haste to our haven prepared

In a room with a window, a night to embrace,

   To burn in our memories a time uncompared.

Inspired by "Roofs of Siena" by M. C. Escher, Woodcut, 1922

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Novel Rhyme Scheme)

THE FACE

I was out in the woods on the mountainside

   Just looking around at the place.

It was close to my home on the other side

   Of what they've been calling, "The Face,"

Since some locals reported a curious stone

   Resembling Sigmund Freud.

But to me it resembled the pelvic bone

   Of a counterfeit alienoid.

I had taken some pictures and mailed them on

   To my contact at ArcheType,

Then decided to bushwhack for possible spawn

   But figured the story was hype.

Then I heard a sound like the tapping of nails

   From a customer waiting too long,

Or the plotting of evil as in the dark tales

   Where the dragons and demons belong.

All at once I determined to head for home,

   With a shiver of dread through my veins,

For I saw on my left a silvery dome

   That was covered all over with chains.

As I turned to run, a chain caught my leg

   And I fell with a thud on the ground.

Then the chain pulled me into that colorless egg

   Where inside I was silenced and bound.

After seemingly hours alone in the dark,

   A most radiant creature appeared;

Like a woman in beauty, but stern and stark,

   A commander respected and feared.

As a mother her infant, she lifted me up

   And cradled me close to her chest.

To my lips she presented a red-rimmed cup

   That I drank till my mind was at rest.

Then she whispered a word in my somnolent ear,

   A word of maternal embrace,

And I knew I had come to the final frontier,

   For that wonderful word was, “Grace.”

And she kissed my lips and lay me down

   Just a bundle of boyish pride

And I woke in my bed in our little town

   Tucked away on a mountainside.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Ballad Meter)

SHERIFF STAN SNIFF

Sheriff Stan Sniff,

Needs only the slightest whiff,

To find the grizzly scene of the crime,

And collars the criminal every time.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Clerihew)

AUTONOMIC WEAPON

I'm wired up with reflex loops

   So powerfully tenacious,

That all the armies, all the troops,

   No matter how predacious,

Could stand and threaten me with death,

   In torturous rendition,

And yet at my next halting breath

  I'd cough without volition.

And that would be my last cough coughed,

   My final itching itched,

My autonomics molotoved

   By Vyacheslav Mikhailovich.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Ballad Meter)

NOT AN ASTRONAUT

I could not be an astronaut

   No matter how I'd like to;

I'm more adept at diddlysquat,

   And places I can hike to.

Aboard the shuttle I would freak

   Just thinking I could die there.

I'd really have to hugely tweak

   A job where I just lie there

Looking out the window at

   The earth so far below me,

Hoping that I don't go splat

   If parachutes won't slow me.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Ballad Meter)

C. S. LEWIS

Clive Staples Lewis

Most certainly knew his

Holistic devotion to Aslan and Tash,

Would offer a dualistic dipping of cash.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Clerihew)

THE OLD TELESCOPE

I found the old telescope under the chair.

I looked all around, but no one was there.

I lifted the scope for an eye full of stare,

And heard a thin voice from out of thin air.

I heard the voice say, "You'd better beware.

Before you start gazing, you'd better prepare.

A Time Telescoper may give you a scare

Unless you're a man who can do and can dare."

"I am," I replied.  "And in truth I declare,

The future is something I'm ready to square,

To tie up its braid in a ribbon with flair,

And let it reveal every step, every stair,

All the way down from here to where

I'm sitting alone in a telescope chair,

Watching the future I knew wasn't fair,

Finding myself the unfortunate heir

Of a Time Telescoper beyond all compare.

But now it's become an alarming affair,

I see myself watching me looped in despair;

Finding that telescope under that chair,

Looking around to find nobody there,

Lifting the scope to my eye for the rare

Glimpse of Future that none can repair.

I wish I had taken the Time to prepare.

I can't stop me watching myself isn't there.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Monorhyme)

THE PUPPET’S QUESTION

There once was a puppet named Drew,

Who wanted to know if I knew,

   “Without all these strings,

   Would I do all these things?

And if you were like me, would you?”

"It's hard to admit, but it's true,

I'm sure I'm a lot like you.

   I can't see the strings,

   But I do lots of things

That really, I don't want to do."

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Limerick Stanza)

HERE & NOW

No matter what the Fates allow,

Come lonely sorrow, pain or fear;

One truth remains: it’s always now,

   And God is always here.

No matter what the Future brings,

Your failing flesh can persevere;

“It’s always now,” your spirit sings,

   “And God is always here.”

Whenever thoughts of death assail,

And shadows press so very near;

It’s always now—in Christ prevail—

   Your God is always here.

And when in Glory 'round His thrown,

Where all is light in every sphere;

It will be now, as you have known,

   And God is always here.

For my Mom, Trudie Lamp, "It is always now and God is always here." 

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Ballad Meter)

THE ANIMAL ALPHABET

If you were as strong as a tiny ant,

You could carry a car, but I bet you can’t.

If you were a beetle fat and round,

You’d fly from the grass with a buzzing sound.

If you were as quick as an alley cat,

Instead of a ball you’d be catching a rat.

If you were a dog with a noisy bark,

You’d never again be afraid of the dark.

If an elephant had a nose like you,

He’d need a long straw to drink water through.

If, like a frog, you could jump real high,

You could leap over trees, and not even try.

If you ran out of grass for your pet goat,

He’d settle for boots and an overcoat.

If you had hair like the mane on a horse,

You wouldn’t go back to the barber, of course.

If you were a gentleman’s pet iguana,

He’d buy you a necklace and name you Rashawna.

If you were a jellyfish out in the sea,

Not jelly, not fish, but a plankton you’d be.

If you were a kingsnake, you would be king.

But a queen for a kingsnake?  No such thing!

If you were a lion, Lord of the Pride,

You'd never be scared or have to hide.

If you like bananas and swing by your tail,

That makes you a monkey instead of a whale.

If you were a newt you'd live in a bog;

You'd look like a lizard but act like a frog.

If an octopus wanted to roller skate,

Two wouldn't do, he'd have to use eight.

If you're hearing an echo of just what you said,

It could be the parrot perched on your head.

If you were a bee-egg who ate Royal Jelly,

You’ve grown to be Queen Bee with eggs in your belly.

If you ate some stew and they said it was "Rabbit,"

Would eating that stew be your regular habit?

If you were a snail with one foot and a shell,

Your footprint would look like a slick line of gel.

If it is your 200th birthday today,

I’ll bet you’re the turtle who lives in the bay.

If you were a horse with a long sharp horn,

You’d live only in myths—you’re a unicorn.

If you were a vulture, circling the sky,

You’d be waiting for some poor creature to die.

If you are a warthog, of bacon you’re made;

Two tusks and a snout in the African shade.

If a swimming fish skeleton is in your aquarium,

It’s an x-ray fish; no need to bury him.

If you were a yak, a tall shaggy beast,

On high mountain grasses you’d happily feast.

If you were a zebra with white stripes and black,

You wouldn’t let cowboys ride on your back.

For Rashawna Chapman and her students in Dominica 

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Rhyming Couplets)

ALIAS FACE

I wonder if a man can change his name,

And if he changed it, what his face would do?

But I, not knowing how, have stayed the same.

To call a fire something not a flame,

Like looking through a different lens, may skew;

I wonder if a man can change his name?

The felon wanting to avoid his blame,

May banish who his prosecutors knew,

But I, not knowing how, have stayed the same.

Can twisting labels really turn the game,

Or is it what it is, both P and Q?

I wonder if a man can change his name?

The singularity of starring fame

May take an alias for its debut,

But I, not knowing how, have stayed the same.

I daily face my crimes and eat my shame,

With no one else but me to pin it to.

I wonder if a man can change his name;

But I, not knowing how, have stayed the same.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Villanelle)

ALL NIGHT JAM

2200

Hello to this my all night jam;

I’m starting here from where I am.

It’s ten o’clock and all is well,

Room one-thirteen just bid farewell

And sits already down by grace,

All tears of joy in Jesus’ face.

I’m not quite sure if fires of hell

Burn now or not, but time will tell.

My motivation to believe

I hope remains a bit naïve

Because the more I try to squeeze

The doubt, the less my spirit sees.

2245

Hello to this, hello to that,

Hello to where the music’s at.

I want to sing the circle round,

My footsore soul on grassy ground,

To dance like Adam for his Eve,

Her eyes a glossy quick qui vive,

And mine intent to know her wish

To have me swim her angelfish

As far upstream as it can go

To find the meaning of “to know,”

To learn the Braille of flesh and blood,

To do our blooming, bud for bud.

2345

Hello to this sweet night of ease,

And getting paid for expertise

Not needed when the problems solve

So easily, and troubles all dissolve

In effervescent bubble-ash

And blow their suds to sate the trash.

I’ve rounded once to every floor

Establishing a snap rapport.

The usual superstition’s gone,

And “quiet” needn’t be withdrawn

Or knocked-on-wood or quickly shushed,

Because tonight, we won’t be rushed.

0030

Prolific and audacious are

The words I’ll make my double star,

The guiding principle of this,

A day to fathom just what is,

And just what might have been

Or what might be if I begin

To tell the things I see and sense,

The things that ask for recompense.

I’ve got the time; I’ll take the stairs,

I’ll check to see if someone cares

That in these hours of easy work

The simple needs of living lurk.

0100

Its one A.M. and only six

Emergencies of pick-up sticks

Are counting gurney-minute sweeps

As at the desk the dozer sleeps;

His basal metabolic rate

Shrugs off a caffeinated state

And in agreement nods his way

From late at night to early day.

And who am I to shake my head?

And who am I to wake the dead?

Tonight we’ll love our very best,

We’ll take our time, enjoy our rest.

0145

Amiri Baraka, you’re pretty good,

You’d do much better than Al Young would,

If staying alert and being alive

Depended upon your black-lash jive.

You know the hip hop flip of the tongue

But can’t compete with Mister Young

In cool sophisticated calm

The kind that might defuse the bomb

And bring the White Man to his knees

To ask forgiveness, if you please.

You’re still a fighter, round fifteen,

A greased-up lightning war machine.

0300

For those who sleep the night is brief,

For those awake the night’s a thief,

Come sneaking in to steal their piece

Of what it is they must release

If ever they are going to heal

Resume their lives of sweat and steel,

Enjoy the fruits of work and play

To live like kings for another day.

The woman who awoke in pain

Just now, just needed to explain

A thing or two of such and such—

And one unspoken need for touch.

0430

At half past six that triple shot

Was just the thing to hit the spot,

To energize my foggy brain

And shift me into my domain

Of cool collected leadership,

Just grab the wheel and let ‘er rip!

But now ten hours down the line

My empire’s in a steep decline,

It once was vast and powerful

But now is small and sorrowful,

And no amount of stimulant

Will get me back to full percent.

0530

It’s data-gathering time again;

Distill the atoms from the skin

Of some two hundred mouths

Pronouncing each their morning vows

To get themselves a clean report

Or pay some devil at last resort

To get them out of here by noon

Or if not then, then make it soon.

And now I sit me down to count,

To tell the Day what Night’s about,

To tally beds still occupied

And sketch the plot of those who died.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Rhyming Couplets)

MY LITTLE MEDLEY

The numbered scaffold built for this façade

Has thirty thousand six eight two connections.

I’m eighteen thousand four nine six toward God,

With just twelve thousand one eight six odd questions,

To ask His instant-answer measuring rod,

Before I add to His pure golden sections,

All fractalled neat within His omni-quad,

My little medley for His vast collections.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Novel Verse Form)

RECITAL

She's learned to play it wrong so well,

I've promised not to tell.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Epigram)

THE JONESES

Everybody’s got their brand of cool,

Looking out their window silly eyes,

Sipping up their private label fuel,

Screen play acting out their numbers pool,

Betting through derivatives of size,

Faintly risking their Pyritic Rule,

All dressed rightly up in their disguise,

Plagiarizing Einstein’s Nobel Prize.

Each in soulful anguish tiptoes past,

Hoping not to wake the jester’s dream.

This is all they know that may not last,

All that may not be though it may seem.

Mutually they feign this casual air,

Flawlessly pretending not to stare.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Sonnet)

ORAL TRADITION

It's all about oral tradition.

Assume the mnemonic position:

   It has to be said

   So it sticks in the head,

If crafting a quote's your ambition.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Limerick)

LAVA TUBE

Cavern’s dark

Little spark

Water still

Air is chill

All alone

In the stone

Underground

Not a sound

Lost my way

One more day

I’ll survive

If I dive

Water’s deep

Walls are steep

Hold my breath

Life or death

Kick my feet

No retreat

This is it

Never quit

Aching chest

Air obsessed

Light at last

Faster fast

Reaching through

Overdue

Fainting now

Know not how

All is lost

Pay the cost

Sudden splash

Brilliant flash

Living air

Everywhere

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Rhyming Couplets)

NIGHT SHIFT BLUES

I worked all night, I slept all day,

I didn’t get a chance to play,

   And now it’s night again.

When I got up the sun went down;

There’s not a blinkin’ soul around;

   I think I’ll ring a friend.

But all my friends are sound asleep,

And those awake are counting sheep;

   I’m stuck here all alone.

I’ll watch a movie (hope it’s long);

I’ll sing myself a sanguine song,

   And sit here by the phone.

And if I’m lucky you might call

To say you just can’t sleep at all

   And would I care to chat.

But then just as I’d start to speak

You’d do that snoring snorkeling squeak,

   And fall asleep—like that!

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Novel Verse Form)

ABIDE WITH ME

Saved by the Father’s gift of wondrous grace;

Raised from my sleep to see Thy shining face;

Life everlasting, Lord, with Thee I’ll spend;

Praising Thy name in glory without end.

So in this hope I live from day to day,

Knowing that Thou wilt keep me in Thy way;

Not life nor death, nor any other thing,

Can separate us, O my Lord and King.

I gladly pledge my life to this good news

If Thou wilt send, I never will refuse;

Thou, Christ, my Savior, rest I find in Thee,

My joy is full if Thou abide with me.

Additional verses to the hymn by Henry Francis Lyte, 1847

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Hymn Lyrics)

AMONG THIEVES

Before your pyromantic dancers

   Resume their gyroscopic waltz,

Before their esoteric answers

   Confute this con’s agnostic faults;

I’ll find an ordinary hustler

   Who wants to make an honest buck,

And call the hardest working rustler

   To steal me blind and call me schmuck.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Ballad Meter)