Poetry Corner September 2024

POETRY with Lawrence Spiro

The song “Swinging on a Star” (1944) is a timeless funny song. It was sung by Bing Crosby and composed by Jimmy Van Heusen and lyrics by Johnny Burke. Yikes I’m dating myself.

Chorus:
“Would you like to swing on a star
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be ….?”
The choices in the song are: mule, pig, fish and monkey.
This poem uses the old chorus with 3 new stanzas. (Lawrence Spiro)
     Star Shining in the night
1   Rose in a beautiful garden
2   Weed on the side of the road
Chorus:
“Would you like to swing on a star
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be a Star?”
a Star is the middle of rhyme,
it is an object too forlorn.
On a clear night and few hours shine,
bored it waits from darkness to dawn.
Chorus:
“Would you like to swing on a star
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be a Rose?”
A Rose blooms in the garden born
the one who desires gets stuck.
Velvet petals above the thorn,
its beauty’s spell begs to pull pluck.
Chorus:
“Would you like to swing on a star
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be a weed?”
A weed no shine nor desire
as the band marches by with fife.
Random to earth, wind, and fire,
laughing at the stars, rose and life.
“Would you like to swing on a star
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be ???…..”
You decide! a Star, Rose or weed?
I kinda like the weed.  It’s got attitude.

From Our New Contributor…

Ethan Bell

Hi, my name is Ethan Bell and I’m a young adult on the spectrum who is non-verbal. The poetry I write is a raw and real perspective from my life. I love to open up and express through poetry because it helps me be vulnerable. My thoughts are constant so being able to focus and write my thoughts out in a poetic way is a big deal for me. I hope whoever reads my poems can relate and enjoy what I write.

Inside Layer – By Ethan Bell

Many to say not possible
The things I want to say.
My dreams they are all feasible
Wait for just the right way
Discover my inside layer
The depths will be hard to measure
Having to live in behind a barrier.
Not too fond of thoughts buried like treasure
Useless was my intellect
The having wanting waiting.
Never to harbor your respect
The truth is still there, just time I’m biding
Now I will break the world open wide
This is me finding my stride.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
High School – By Ethan Bell

Full hallways,
Lust for freedom
Individuality
Near adults seen not heard
Dreams are big
Fixed gazes broken by screechy blasting bells
A kind of chaos I’ve come to trust.
Highs higher the lower we go.
Food for souls is taken
Pride built yet unfinished.
Made to stand out.
Lets me fit in


Pseudo-Euphoria

by Willow DuBrovin

A harmonious melody entraps, a plethora of notes fill my brain.
Loud and sound, born to soothe;
a distraction from a hallucinating pain.
Higher and higher, the volume goes, the concert has no limit.
Unbeknownst to me, my ears cripple with
the ripple of songs of an euphoric minute.

The bathroom condensation warms my skinan
apricity-
I step in the shower and it’s scalding hot.
Instantly, my mind coolstranquility-
The burning sensation? An afterthought,
and too, the euphoric feeling of a blistering rot.

I lift my fork, a daring move, one no-one has yet to make,
towards the steaming dish of spicy noodles,
born to make the weak quake.
Bite after bite of a thousand flavors; I am reborn in its midst
and I lose my senses slowly to a habanero pepper with an euphoric bliss.

So tell me why such euphoric feelings require such bodily risk?
The pain: a requirement, or a consequential trick?
Rising a coaster; jumping a cliff; a year-long lover, or an abusive prick?
The zenith of euphoria is nothing without its ironic, imposing wit,
and so with a given epiphany, I stun to the thought that I am victim,
to a pseudo-euphoria’s paradoxal twist.