Poems from the Stone Soup Anthology
By Joseph Puleo
Jack Powers started Stone Soup Poets in Boston in the early 1970s. It was located at the foot of Beacon Hill, near where I was living at the time.
Many of the most notable poets of the time were connected with Stone Soup Poets, through Jack. They included, Allen Ginsberg, Barbra Holland, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, John Wieners, and Anne Sexton.
I can recall stopping by the Harvard Gardens, across the street from Stone Soup, before the Tuesday night readings. I’d put down a drink or two to gain a bit of confidence before I read.
As an added benefit, it was also a hangout for the nurses from nearby Mass General Hospital.
Ann Sexton
Leaving Those We’ve Touched
The leafy fire on this bright October day
suddenly dwindled into shadows
And those who weren’t busy dying
listened by your door at your silence
And winter, wearing a dark coat of sky
fell to reciting such trivia as your eulogy
Author’s note: As a member of the Stone Soup Poetry, I got to meet Ann and many other poets. One night she came in unannounced and read one her new poems.
Anne Sexton had won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1967 for her book, Live or Die. Shortly after her visit to Stone Soup Poets, she moved on to her next life. I wrote this as my humble tribute to her
All we will be
is what we leave in the hearts
of the people we have loved
and the people who have loved us
When we go away
time will pass and memories will fade
as it always does, except for love
the greatest gift of all, is without end
The Future
Music’s wind sings a quiet song amid the rustle
And down the paths of our past autumns
We try to understand, we try to listen to
What had brought our future to present
Reaching I clutch a withered leave
Its veins now drained of color
Its skin parched like the taste of sand
Long given way to the arid desert sun
To reach out and touch a moist mirage
To feel soft wetness bubbling once more
Not dried like life turned to stone
Of burnt hay never harvested, wasted away
Once sitting beneath the birch of my boyhood
We held onto each other’s shining stars
Discovering all their secrets while cradled
In the loving lap of a summer breeze
It tussled your hair across the face of my youth
As the circle of our world surrounded us
In sweet protection with a loving embrace
So fleetingly short in time’s marked spans
The present is now running quickly
Headlong into the future once more
Tossing the past in defiance to memory
And irreverent to what caution to be heeded
And long, long ago sitting in a field
By my mother’s knee, safe with in her aura
I was drawn by the magnets of curiosity
Out of her shadow, beyond her apron strings
To assert my first twinges of adolescence
Seeking adventures that were short lived
And now just memories covered in dust
Locked faded in a closet near my youth
Love’s Eulogy
Snowflakes falling gently
From the summer sky
Drift down earthward steadily
But it’s the middle of July
And the fiery yellow sun
Whose powers are all gone
Can no longer control the snow
On this summer’s morn’
And the cold summer wind
Billows on the meadow green
Unchecked it blights all life
And blows the forest clean
The weatherman is dead now
For he saw the last forecast
He knew that he could never tell
The end and come to pass
And the snow is drifting higher
Than the imagination can conceive
Covering man and his world
With no one left to grieve
And off to find a new life
Goes this planet dressed in white
It finally has got rid of us
And started on its flight
To bump off distant stars
And explore brand new skies
For we really had it coming
Caused our own demise
And frozen within her surface
Is a time long past
A time when you and I had loved
A time that went so fast
You and Me
Children
I watched you caught up in some little chore
so pre-occupied unaware of my stare
Your presence filled our tiny room
with the gentle warmth of your love
I whispered I love you
a smile traced your lips
I knew you hadn’t heard me
but that’s the way it was
you and me
This child of mine I never had
Watches within my spirit
At the sadness on the nightly news
And thanks me, yes thanks me
For never having been born