POETRY BY RAYMOND GRANT
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Please enjoy several of Ray's poems below

The Ship
By Raymond Grant
copyright 2005

The ship dropped anchor before I arose that day

After breakfast I walked to the beach and looked first upon her
She drifted slowly about her tether rotating into the prevailing
current

I could see neither passengers nor crew from my distance.
What a huge sea monster this ship.
She must have swallowed thousands on the lazy afternoon of her departure

As I went about my business, I kept an infrequent eye on her
While the sun rose, sailboats tacked past her
curious about her presence on this salty, azure sea
Yet, I saw no signs of life, no movement visible from my perch

At midday, I took my lunch of tacos, black beans, rice,
and icy cerveza
A green conure sat on my shoulder nibbling by my ear whispering parrot talk
patiently awaiting more tidbits

The heat of the afternoon passed and occasionally I thought to
spy her
Near day’s end I looked out once more to the sea

I only saw the vernal stars and heard the muted breaking of
waves along the shore
I could see no foreign disturbance on the water
Only the waves, which were always there
Without asking, she had pulled anchor and sailed on
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WHISPERS
by
Raymond Grant
copyright 2005

Do not tell me that I may walk away.
I know that I may; I choose not to
I prefer to tear from joy for
I am fulfilled and happy

Do not tell me that I am unbound
I know I am free; I choose to be with you
I prefer the road to your smile for
What greater pleasure could I create?

Do tell me that I am your friend,
And as friends we share secrets
For are not friends such that they
Exchange inner thoughts and goals?

Do tell me that I am your companion,
And as companions we share a lifetime
For are not companions such that they
In doing the mundane create the unusual?

Do tell me that I am your love,
And as lovers we shall simply know each other
For are not lovers such that they
Know love’s soul and by knowing
Strengthen love’s spirit?


The Ship

Inside Out
By
Raymond Grant
copyright 2005

What if one day we turned ourselves inside out?
Would we now love the world as we had loved ourselves?
With all our secrets and vulnerabilities exposed,
would anything remain to hide or protect?

Our new without would be the dark, the nothing.
Within would be the light, the beauty, the universe.
Would we now help each other because we had become one,
or would we find new paths to self-aggrandizement?

What of the beauty of the human form?
Should the new standard be the biggest heart,
the reddest blood, the shapeliest liver?
Would we find new ways to differentiate ourselves,
so egos would once again rule?

Must we turn ourselves inside out to understand?
Can we not just care for our brothers and sisters?
For, after all, we are of the same parentage.
The Weaver
By Raymond Grant
copyright 2005

She sits at her desk and weaves stories of colors and textures
Just as Athena wove wools so long ago.
Her messages now travel at near light speed
Rather than by mythological courier.

I sit nearby and watch with love and admiration.
How industrious she is from sunrise to sunset.
Her endearing patterns occur with diurnal regularity.

While she is weaving I notice the distant mountain.
It seems closer each morning.
I am certain to climb its slopes before her.

She pauses at noon to prepare lunch for two.
We converse about the morning’s events
And sometimes what could be.

When I am climbing the mountain
Will she pause at noon to prepare lunch for one?
RAYMOND GRANT
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