Blog Archives

Obsession – Jim Metcalf

If I am obsessed,
then let my affliction be
a lust for beauty.
And let my search for it
be in all places
and at all times.
And let it be never ending.

Help me to find it
Where others have looked
and seen only ugliness.

In fields of weeds
where wild winds
blow the vagrant sand,
show me some hidden desert flower,
rich and full blooming….

A sprig of grass beneath
the city’s muddy snow
when Spring waits for the end
of a malingering Winter.

Let me know the touch
of tiny hands
the scent
of summer mornings before the sun…
the sounds
of laughter and muted organs
where stained glass windows are…
the taste
of berries from vines
that cling to country fences.

And when the search leads me
to places that are barren,
where no beauty is,
help me to create it.
To leave some sign
that there was one who passed
and cared.

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The Poet And The Flowers – Jim Metcalf

Once again we are betrayed,
The words and I…..
Faced with a challenge we cannot meet.
We cannot translate the quiet splendor of a flower
Into symbols set on paper…
Or sounds the symbols signify.

We are impotent,
The words and I.
Inept, incapable,
Awkward jesters of the court
Mumblings through the sacred halls
Of beauty’s majesty.

How could we presume
To describe the sweetness of a rose?
Colors heightened by the dew upon it,
Tears of happiness shed upon its petals
When heaven saw the wonder it had made.

We admit defeat,
The words and I.
We cannot tell the story of the flowers,
They do not need our counsel
They have counsel with the angels.

Yet if the last wondrous bud should die,
And there would never be another to replace it
The angels would be as weak as we,
They could not find words to say farewell,
Or music to sing a hymn in parting
The angels could not say goodbye
The angels would be weeping.

~ Jim Metacalf ~
From “Jim Metacalf’s Journal”.

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Sea – Jim Metcalf

I have walked in silence along your shores,
Have watched the changing patterns of your moods
And heard the songs you sing
To accompany them.

In the still of midnights,
Summer warm and star laden
I have seen you.
Seen your face move gently
In the slow and certain cadence
Of the breath of sleep.

Then, after waking,
In drowsy half awareness,
Toy with a reflection of the moon
And change its shape
Like the distorted mirror in a fun house
Where we used to go on summer holidays.

I have heard the sounds your ships make
Crawling through a fog that covers you
Heard their whistles and their bells
And the voices of their men
Cursing their maker for their blindness;
Praying to their maker for deliverance.

I have seen you in sudden summer rages,
Gray with anger;
Frothing and screaming
And ravaging the land and all upon it.
Taking that to which you have
No rightful claim.

Then, as if remorseful,
I have seen you give freely
Of your treasures.
Seen you fill the holds of fishing ships,
Seen the life’s blood of a nation
Taken from your depths;
Transfused by the towers of steel
That rise above you.

And I have heard your music
When you caress the sandy beaches
Of a certain, far off place….
A secret island place
That no one knows,
But you and me.

~ Jim Metcalf ~

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Jim Metcalf was originally from Texas, he was a newspaper reporter, columnist and, eventually, hosted his own television show, “A Sunday Journal,” on a local New Orleans station from the early 1960′s until illness prevented him from continuing in the mid-1970′s. He was known as the unofficial poet-laureate of the city. He had four books of poetry published, the first titled “In Some Quiet Place.” He died too young and, after all these years, many New Orleanians still miss him…miss the half hour respite he gave the city every Sunday, when he would take us to a quiet place and soothe away our troubles for awhile. Although he’s not with us anymore, we can still find a quiet place in his poetry. As he used to say at the beginning of each show, “Please to begin…..”

I was very happy to rediscover my 2 of 4 books of Jim Metcalf’s poetry the other day. Mr. Metcalf’s poetry spoke volumes to me back in the 1970s, and his words still do today. It is my great pleasure to share them with you on this website.
~ L. Kupfer ~

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I’m Not Going Back

“This isn’t really a good time”
Yea, fine, whatever, Mother
I’ve heard those words
One time too many
I get the message
I hear clearly what you’re not saying
You and Dad just don’t want
To know the “openly lesbian” woman
Who is also your daughter

Yea, fine, whatever
Yes, perhaps, it was my mistake
To spring my new found relationship on you
Without sufficient warning
But I was a fool in believing
That being honest and open
Was better than hiding behind
That damned wall of silence

For all your talk about trust
You’ve really never forgiven me
For coming out that day in May so many years ago
Or you’ve really never forgiven me
For breaking out of the mold
In which you so carefully created and shaped
Out of your expectations for your firstborn

I’m sorry, but I’m not going back
Into that closet where I hid for so long
No matter how much you want me to
And I’m not going to conform
To your version of “don’t ask, don’t tell”
This is the life that I chose to live
It fits me better than the life
You would rather I have chosen

I will always be your daugther
But I’m not going back to being the little girl
That sought to please you at every turn
By meeting your unrealistic expectations
And “doing the right thing”
I will only do what I feel is right for me
And I’m not going back

If you can’t accept
That I’m an adult in my own right
With the right to love who I choose to love
You can’t possibly know
Just how happy I am with who I am now
Who I’ve become
And who shares my life with me…
So if you don’t wish to know that side of me
Then, I have nothing more to say
Except that it’s really your loss.

all rights reserved
L. Kupfer

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Slender Chain Of Gold

In the soft glow of candles
She held in Her hands
A slender chain of gold
The sounds of the night fell silent
Save for the fluttering of my heart…

Time… Distance… Space…
Faded and retreated
Before the sheer power
Of that moment of realization
As I knelt before Her

The very air enveloped us
In a mantle of intimacy
That only comes from a mutual journey
Of two souls answering the call
Of an ancient hunger

My eyes lifted to Hers
In perfect love and trust
My pledge and my promise
Freely given without reservation
Spoken from the heart
With both voice and hands
For Her eyes and ears alone

I bowed my head
Under the tender benediction of Her smile
Breathless in anticipation
Aware of only Her presence
And the destination of
The slender chain of gold

Slender chain of gold
Link in the unending circle of life
That brought us both to this golden path
Layered depths still open to exploratoin
Serene knowing of promises to unfold
As limits are conquered

Her slender chain of gold
Now encircles my neck
Tangible anchor and symbol
So light, so natural, so right
Yet so enriching and so deeply fulfilling
To my soul
And I am complete.

L. Kupfer
all rights reserved

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