Lion Dreaming: Poems

By Robert E. Rhodes

For most of us poetry is a form of noise that poets
make because they can. Like birds, poets are more
active in the spring. Like dogs, poets growl if you get
too close to their easy chairs, but respond well to any
show of affection. Poets are not even-tempered
creatures, but are nicer after a few drinks. They expect
too much of their wives and too little of their children.
I am at liberty to tell you all this because I am a special
breed of poet whose noises are pure music . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 29, 2007
• ISBN: 9780595919000

Robert E. Rhodes

Robert Rhodes has been an educator, a managing editor of a publishing company, a translator and a director of a museum. He was born in the Great Smokies, graduated from the University of Florida and has an MA and PhD from the University of New Mexico. He is married, has five children, lives in Santa Fe, writes poems and walks his little dog.

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Contents

LION DREAMING

WEATHER REPORT

BEAUCATCHER

SPRING MUSIC

SARABAND FOR BERGMAN

MORNING COMES TO PORVENIR

OUR OLD KENTUCKY HOME

MEMORIES OF GRAD SCHOOL

TRAVEL PLANS

AN ODE FOR THE COLLATERAL

DEAD

WHERE LOVE HAPPENS

ONCE I WELCOMED HOW A

LEAF

MY MISTRESS BEING OLD

TURTLEDOVE

LETTING LOVE BE

CUES FOR THE MARRIAGE

SERVICE

ROETHKE MAKES A CALL

OVERTIME

BORN EACH TIME WE WAKE

DOG PARK

EARLY MATTERS OF BELIEF

I KNEW A LADY

REFLECTIONS OF AN OLD

GOURMAND

CREATURES GIVEN UP TO

LIGHT

MOVING OUT

TROUBLE AT THE SUPERSTORE

BUYING THE WIND

A SINGLE ROSE

CELEBRATING DIFFERENCE

LA SALLE STREET STATION

APPEARING TO SLEEP

DUET WITH A PARROT

FROST AT RIPTON

SOCIOLOGY OF SPRING

THE SMILE OF ARTAUD

WINTER READING

SOLITUDES OF COLD

CAREFUL LADIES WHAT YOU

SAY

AWAKE TO WORLDS

UNFOLDING

LINCOLN IN A LETTER TELLS

ONE EVENING BACK IN THE

STATES

NOT ON MY BIRTHDAY!

MR EAVES

WHAT I WAS TOLD

THIS WILL MAKE YOUR

MOTHER ANGRY, JOHN

DANCING WITH THE DEVIL

WALKING THE DOG

PICKING DAISIES

LIVING IN THE NOW

PAPA’S LUCK

DOING THE CROSSWORD

FRETFUL HANDS

DAY OF THE DEAD

RUTA IN SANTA FE

PAPA’S MIRACLE

HOW THE LOTTERY BEGAN

NORTH TO BOSTON

ROADSIDE ATTRACTIONS

LION OF LUZERN

THINGS WE DO WHEN WE’RE

ALONE

NIGHT CALLS

MAPPING THE PAST

SCHILLER’S SONG OF JOY

AUDEN

THE CONVERSION OF GEORGE

AVOIDING THE SAD THINGS

ANOTHER WAL-MART WAR

THE ONLY CHILD

A FLY AT THE WINDOW

NIGHT THOUGHTS

AFTERLIFE

This one is for Mimi and Karin and Julia and Laura and Aaron and Kim,

sometimes in my poetry, always in my heart.

LION DREAMING

I am a lion dreaming

At home among elephants

I raise my massive head

In full grasp of the plain

Blood dries on my muzzle

From the fresh kill before me

When I open my jaws to roar

More blood drips from my rough, red tongue

My comely lioness arrives

To feed on parts I leave for her

I give her golden rump a swat

Which she’s permitted to ignore

Nothing moves before I look

Without permission of my eyes

Not wind to blow, nor bird to fly

Not river