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Poetry of Life Poet
Poems Submitted by ROBERT
GEORGE WETMORE
ABOUT THE POET
is a native of New Milford, CT, born on July
11, 1952. He is a practicing lawyer with an office in Wallingford,
Connecticut
where he is also a member of the Rotary Club.
A Phi Beta Kappa graduate of the
University of Connecticut's Honors
Program in 1974, as a political science major magna cum laude, Mr.
Wetmore
has an interest in writing, creative, fiction and nonfiction, that he
says his
teachers nurtured and encouraged.
In the last 19 years, Wetmore has written
approximately 300 poems, a
number of which have appeared in small press journals such as BACK
STREETS, Capper's, THE PEGASUS REVIEW, POET'S PRIDE, THE
PROFESSIONAL POET, BY-LINE and THE COUNTRY POET, and Canada's
STROLL OF POETS. The Waterbury Republican American and the Meriden
Record Journal have featured his work in their Sunday editions For St.
John's
Episcopal Church in New Milford, Bob created a collection of spiritual
poems
entitled "The St. John's Sequence," later incorporated into an
anthology for
Trinity Church, Branford called "The Wordsmith Carves in the Tree
of Trinity"
in 1992.
The June 1983 edition of THE CONNECTICUT
BAR JOURNAL features his historical article "US v. Tapping Reeve:
Prosecutions for Seditious Libel in
Connecticut in 1803" He has at various times edited Newsletters and
Magazines in connection with the Connecticut and American Bar
Associations,
from 1987-97
In 1998 he served as Potentate of Pyramid
Shiners, and remains active
in the promotion of the Shrine Hospitals. He is a member of the Board of
Directors of the Connecticut Burns Care Foundation, and a legal advisor
to the
Connecticut Fire Safety Theater non-profit education organization. He is
active as public relations free lancer for these groups.
For inspiration, Wetmore looks to nature,
the human condition, the
spiritual life, and his musical background He has said "Poetry is
the music of
language and from a booming march or Mozart's clarinet concerto music
heightens the senses to the beat and chords that are always around
us." Other
influences are the psycho-spiritual writings of M.Scott Peck,MD and the
poetry of Robert Frost, Archibald Mc Leish, Blake,T.S. Eliot,
Byron, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Wallace Stevens and novelists Samuel L.
Clemens, Ernest Hemingway, William Styron and Herman Melville.
OLD OAKS, STONE WALLS & BUCK TRACKS
When the urban confusion settles on me,
Like a dark, dank cloud of foggy dew,
Escape to the serenity of a farm of happy,
Unrehearsed encounters with rural friends,
Staring at the aftermath of raccoon and
bucks,
Doe always there, and the royal rack
hidden,
And a pesky skunk annoyed perfumes the
air.
When forebears plowed the dark river mud
soil,
They piled short castles and walls,
marking metes,
Denoting bounds and spatial alignments in
perpetuity,
That if I should ever depart my birthplace
in years,
Still constant remained place, decrying
rude development,
Old signposts unchanged like eternal oaks,
and buck tracks.
To Ride Across the Dusky Sky
In moments of dreams, and reams of
thought,
One might contemplate a bicycle ride
across the sky.
Not unlike the popular alien and his
amazed pals,
Seeing the gradual fading of day and sun,
on the run,
Patchwork of land, crops, and edifices lay
out below,
A view of common respect of wry hawks and
eagles,
Who contemplate the quarry and plunge in
dives.
Flight in all its forms and variety is
lusted after,
By all that would defy the prison of
gravity, embrace air,
In the spiritual envelopment of all the
Angels, now and to come,
Beyond the effervescent, ever-eternal
oases of free.
HOWLING RIVER
Running the wild howling river,
Battling intensely against current,
Flying down the flume and flush,
Foam and flurry of rock piercing water,
Sleekly and swiftly the canoe collides,
Bounced, buffeted by push and pull,
Nearly jacked out of my perch,
Bestriding fragile gunwales,
Bound in sheets of birch bark,
Thrice sealed in pine tree pitch,
And down shallow falls, we go
Into the mouth of a placid pool,
Running rivers running gauntlets
Of challenge, risk and chance,
A test of stress, aquatics dance.
Rainbow You Are
Your are my hope, prayer and rainbow,
That multicolor splendor defying
Rain, doubt, anxiety and fear,
Whispering encouragement in my ear,
Supporting mind and spirit, among
Old, young and new: seeking pots of gold,
Manifestations of plenty, healing, and
peace,
Kindred companions, serving to please
Muddy Matters
Spring has brought us rain,
Sopping soil and human again,
Making mere walking, jogging
Puddle wonderful, full of sogging.
It's an old Northeast Beast,
Melting piles of winter's best,
Just before the robins rampant
Return to decorate green carpet
And forest's local office branches,
Even as the hibernation marks end,
True to a cycle that will not bend.
LOOK WELL TO LIGHT
Along my path, winding and slow,
Darting gingerly where none would go,
Climbing, challenging gorges deep, wide
Far too much to challenge, tugging tide
And darkness casts a foreboding shadow,
Blinding grief, even the hopes of
tomorrow.
For Lady Luck is an elusive suitor, bride;
Strength arises from living springs
inside-
When I look to the light, the glow of God;
An unseen, yet bright beacon, lantern of
Lord,
Illumining spiritually many hopes and
tears,
Overcoming doubts, depression, true fears.
I pace toward the light, embrace its
gleam.
For in the hollow of His hand, He shall
redeem
And as to the mysterious, unseen
destinations,
I shall yet dwell in His home of many
mansion.
BREAKING BREAD
Circled around the table,
Yielding to our many penitences,
Unforgiving, undone, wronged, disabled
To long to be scribed in sentences,
For this is of Faith and Grace,
Roundly celebrated in time, place:
Where in sharing bread, libation,
We partake of the New Covenant,
The ultimate New Life creation,
And the promise of Heaven's sacrament.
RELEASE
I have sought my soul in earnest,
Overturning old stones in my blind path,
Questioning assumptions, doing self
-unction,
And performing mental gymnastics sans
limit,
For the answer must have been there,
hidden
Among what I could see, touch, and smell
Yet much of the light's spectrum is
invisible,
Passing through in waves of electrons,
undetected,
Spirit-filled energy, shivering stings,
grace.
My soul is not of 3-D structures,
But joy set-free from bonds and chains
Well Measured Word
Words, to be measured, considered with
care,
Contemplated how or how little to speak-
Thoughts, mixed with litmus tests of
emotion,
For in a fleeting instance, careless
expression
Can breach the peace, fabric knit over
years-
Families chopped and cut in twain , never
To ever feel together, bound, loving again
And friends lost to a second's infamy,
gone
On the cue of words , crudely drawn,
cruel.
I will look with favor on premeditated
speech
And not plant seeds of soul conflagration,
For impact more than abject honesty,
Is a Godsend to master, achieve solemnity
Choosing words meticulously, in confidence
Giving sensitivity to all human conditions.
FREE RANGE SPIRITS
Free range, naked, unfettered, like the
chicken of equal trait,
Denying the traditional its claimed
standards and statute,
Rebelling, yet ethical-centered and
pensive,
Destroying every remnant of pompous,
popular culture,
Centered on idealism, wisdom, compassion,
love
Decrying fraud in intent, induced and
factum,
Daring to take off the old and trite
trappings,
To marching in singing unison to a blessed
site,
Where light rules in glory, darkness hides
And tenders heart flourish, take to wing
Puppy at the Pane
Caught my pup wailing at the window,
Barking up a veritable storm at something,
Not important to me, paramount to she.
Imagined demons, maybe so or tapping,
The North wind blowing away the mortgage
Yet she, constant as light, did this for
me-
That matters more than noise and futility-
Loyal is as loyal does, a coward she never
was.
So many human promises pale in the making-
A dog will never give me a heart for
breaking
by ROBERT
GEORGE WETMORE
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