© 2015-present EDWARD RAGG

 

Poem by Donald Trump

I haven’t learned

yet how to write

Poetry

 

but I’m a very quick learner

very quick and I’ll have

the best people

 

the best people around

me I mean some of my

best friends even are Poets

 

are even Poets and they’re

always telling me what

a great Poet I’d be

 

and really how really

difficult it would be

for me not to be so great

 

not to be a great Poet

and when I become Poet

they’ll just have to forget

 

everything they ever learned

about Witman Eliott Yates

Oppenheimer Heiney Otto Plath

 

and all those other Muslim rapist

Mexican women and letterists

who are terrorizing this Great Cuntry

 

of Ours that is not a poem

in our eyes but will be

My Poem Trump Collected Inc.

 

pasted on every goddam

mile of every goddam wall

of My Great Wall Cuntry

 

You can bet your bottom

$

on that ass

 

facker

 

January 2016

 

Note: Donald Trump is not the author of 'Poem by Donald Trump' and the poem

does not express exactly any of his opinions, views or comments.

 

 

Punctuation Points

 

The Comma

 

A stepping stone,

in the pond of meaning.

 

The Full-Stop

 

The smallest and largest

point in the universe.

 

The Colon

 

A pair of identical twins:

balancing.

 

The Semi-Colon

 

A comma;

with a chaperone.

 

The Hyphen

 

One of many bridges

across-the-pond…

 

The Dash

 

A hyphen on holiday –

 

Inverted Quotation Marks

 

“Side-burns at the

face of language.”

 

The Exclamation Mark

 

Surely this could not

happen to a full stop!

 

The Question Mark

 

But can this key, as you say,

truly unlock the world?

- from Holding Unfailing (Cinnamon Press, 2017).

 

 

 

Note on Text

 

Around the time of writing

a cat brushed his knee,

 

demonstrating for one

and all how the most

 

resourceful creatures

make their opinions

 

known in silent messages

surrounding the truth of words.

 

- opening poem from A Force That Takes (Cinnamon Press, 2013).

 

Reversing Sonnets

 

Is this love?

 

A cure for the visible.’

 

~ Lavinia Greenlaw, ‘Winter Finding’

 

 

Until she lights on somewhere to arrive

box-cut hedges in a cul-de-sac drive

smart her sense longing for impatient cliffs

without a view but within a minute

photographed traipsed to know them there the skiffs

the anchored bay the clouds that suddenly fit

the frame of bobbing hulls and blent sea air

how stepping backwards from a wintry edge

is almost to ask ‘Is this love?’ or care

enough to touch a painted window ledge

as much a cure for seeing as to know

face-to-face the visible betrayal

of winter gone that melting ice will show

the harbour master’s hands unfurl the sail

 

The harbour master’s hands unfurl the sail

of winter gone that melting ice will show

face-to-face the visible betrayal

as much a cure for seeing as to know

enough to touch a painted window ledge

is almost to ask ‘Is this love?’ or care

how stepping backwards from a wintry edge

the frame of bobbing hulls and blent sea air

the anchored bay the clouds that suddenly fit

photographed traipsed to know them there the skiffs

without a view but within a minute

smart her sense longing for impatient cliffs

box-cut hedges in a cul-de-sac drive

until she lights on somewhere to arrive

- from A Force That Takes (Cinnamon Press, 2013).

 

 

Beijing in Bright Spring Light

 

Willows of the Fourth Ring

sprout little shoots of green.

 

A girl idles in Chaoyang Park

flanked by a scampering toy dog

 

guiltless of impressions

or so we say.

 

The babies come

swaddled to near suffocation,

 

sweating in the new spring light

in immaculate pushchairs.

 

The unframed enthusiasm

of a child…

 

An old woman

beautiful in age

 

sucks the juice from

a peach insatiable,

 

travelling at remarkable

taxi-driven speeds.

 

It is impossible to desist

guiltless of impressions

 

though we are innocent

and may crave

 

the unframed enthusiasm

of a child:

 

which lives for us

in the ice-sculpted months

 

of memory or in laughter

unleashed upon a face

 

spontaneously in the

bright spring light amazing.

 

- from A Force That Takes (Cinnamon Press, 2013).

 

 

Fragment: Unaccountable

 

I lean towards

your city

 

but do not move

…] as China floods

 

past, its floods past

in the present metal.

 

The continual ships

of the continuous river

 

…] the metal of our days

to you I lean and see

 

today’s tomorrow

yesterday

- opening poem from Holding Unfailing (Cinnamon Press, 2017).

From Our Own Correspondent

 

From winter smoke

and the cracked earth

 

of the peasant fields

toiling…

 

to the highwayed

apartments of cities

 

of unimaginable complexity,

where light-skinned city folk

 

brush obliviously

past dark-skinned arrivals

 

from those same

cracked fields

 

disembarking at

bewildering terminals.

 

A new dance writes

its marks upon

 

the kaleidoscopic lights

of midnight floors

 

where youth moves

on bubbles and adrenalin.

 

The sleek high-speed train

touches 300 kilometres per hour

 

rushing obliviously

past channels of lore and algae.

 

That we may each move

upon the earth and leave

 

such marks with ease 

and be forgotten.

- from Holding Unfailing (Cinnamon Press, 2017).

Sole Food

 

These tattered old boots still

grip the pock-marked tarmac

 

and have traipsed, I reflect,

the streets of Moscow,

 

a Queensland pineapple farm,

the dust-caked alleyways

 

of Beijing… to arrive

at this point where,

 

stumbling from memory,

I read my mother’s deft

 

needlework stitched into

each lace-etched tongue

 

a name in red capitals:

mine.

 

Eighteen years on

my tongue is initialled

 

with those same hands and

inscribed with what lies now

 

between the knots of our reach:

the Mongolian steppes,

 

the Eastern lakes,

the curious cathedrals

 

of her origins in

needle-box Swiss chalets.

 

So if I am ever lost,

she may nominate

 

my unspoken state,

hauling unspeakable loads

 

across the broken curbs

of a foreign city.

 

- from Holding Unfailing (Cinnamon Press, 2017).

Path Finding

 

Leaving Mount Barker

in a borrowed four-by-four

 

along executed routes

we edged toward Margaret River.

 

Where tarmac yielded

to the skittering stones

 

of a freshly levelled stretch,

the low winter sun

 

flooded our retinas,

the speedometer dropping

 

like the sunken ocean

until, gingerly, you strained

 

headfirst out of the window

to look ahead…

 

This faith was faith as faith

because unreferred:

 

the unseen road,

my love for you

 

the same,

only the same.

 

Believing no less

in parable than in fact

 

for what seemed days

and still may

 

today in the years

you have guided me

 

and guide me

I know not where.

- from Holding Unfailing (Cinnamon Press, 2017).

March 02, 2014

Two Poems in Cha: An Asian Literary Journal

Read 'Sole Food' and 'Planes of Honour' in Hong Kong's Cha: An Asian Literary Journal's 6th Anniversary Edition.

September 03, 2014

Two Poems at Abegail Morley's The Poetry Shed

Edward is a Featured Poet on Abegail Morley's excellent blog and poetry resource, The Poetry Shed. Read 'Anthem at Morning' and 'Chongwenmen Market' here.

January 31, 2013

'Willows of the Fourth Ring' in Cordite Poetry Review

Read 'Willows of the Fourth Ring' in leading Australian online journal Cordite Poetry Review.

October 29, 2014

Two Poems in BODY

Read 'The Solitude of Seeing' and 'Guang Hua Road', chosen as part of the Czech-based BODY' magazine's UK & Irish Poets Feature.

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