Poems by Charles Ash


A Road    

2-20-1975


There was a road with the end never in sight

Winding, non-hazardous, but nonetheless

Curving

Indecisive in its traversing of my limited

time.

Wherever it desired it shot off toward

that horizon

Eventually seducing the physical me to

follow.

Adventure, I call it, going toward?

As it turned it neither ran over or through

Just toward!

Ever searching for the last stop and home

Evading its grasp-time won't grant it respite

Till time itself is tired of the game.

Only then will fulfillment achieve its end

And the road will find--toward.



A Name

2-18-1975


Here I am longing for a name

For while I'm alone, nameless I'll be

Not for money nor for fame

Nor for the oceans or the shallow seas

Quest it be a fight for identity

To find myself above the rest

Making my actions stand the test

To achieve the worthy role

Finding me a name--my goal!



Sesia's Thoughts

     Prince Rafiel Eristavi

5-4-1975


Dust am I, to dust I cling;

A rustic born, my life is one

Eternal strife and endless toil

And endless woe...till life is gone.

I plow, I sow, I labor on.

With muscles strained, in sun and rain.

I scarce can live on what I earn

And tired and hungry I remain.

The owner of the land torments me;

Even the tiny ant's my foe.

For townsfolk, priests and native 

country

In bloodlike sweat I plow and sow...

How long, O God this endless grind

This life of sorrow and of toil?

Alas! I fear that death alone

Will bring me rest within this soil!





Song of the Open Road

BY WALT WHITMAN



Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, 
Healthy, free, the world before me, 
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose. 

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune, 
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, 
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, 
Strong and content I travel the open road. 

The earth, that is sufficient, 
I do not want the constellations any nearer, 
I know they are very well where they are, 
I know they suffice for those who belong to them. 

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens, 
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go, 
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them, 
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.) 



I dwell in Possibility – (466)

BY EMILY DICKINSON


I dwell in Possibility – 
A fairer House than Prose – 
More numerous of Windows – 
Superior – for Doors – 

Of Chambers as the Cedars – 
Impregnable of eye – 
And for an everlasting Roof 
The Gambrels of the Sky – 

Of Visitors – the fairest – 
For Occupation – This – 
The spreading wide my narrow Hands 
To gather Paradise –

Poetry

Viveca Smith Publishing