‘Bless with Children’ and Other Poetry by Carol Kanter The Society January 10, 2013 Poetry Bless with Children Sent, Amen! to fill the world with wonder they come in trust, brim-full of possibility, a soul (or spark from God, once split asunder) harbored in each. Our responsibility: to do our best, to cherish and provide at least the abc’s that foster health for every body, that educate each mind. Then Glory Be for the chance to share such wealth. In joyous song let voices set adrift gratitude for guidance, old and new, and for those young we deem our greatest gift— though surely we remain God’s children, too. May peoples everywhere be reconciled and together bless the children, child by child. Nostalgia Fresh from grand tours, with their urge to feed now weak, salmon swim through braids of vagrant streams past hunters armed with hook or claw or beak— the lure a taste for home that draws on dreams. In a silver throng, they muscle past the steep moss-covered banks to jump the churning falls, tier after tier—or try, fail, rest…then leap again against the odds stacked in wet walls. Their urge: to spawn in waters of their birth— blind to what awaits, as a sleeper’s mind denies in dreams its own demise—while earth- bound, poets sink in blue reflexive lines such logy images—end-stopped, alone— of dust, of drop to drop, of muscling Home. Carol Kanter’s first published poem appeared in Iowa Woman in 1995. Atlanta Review cited for its International Merit Award in 1998, 2003 and 2005. Finishing Line Press published her first chapbook, “Out of Southern Africa,” in 2005 and her second, “Chronicle of Dog,” in 2006. Her work has appeared in numerous literary journals and several anthologies. “No Secret Where Elephants Walk,” and “Where the Sacred Dwells, Namaste” (DualArts Press, 2010 and 2012) marry Carol’s poetry to her husband’s photography from Africa and from India, Nepal and Bhutan. Carol has a private psychotherapy practice in Evanston, IL. These poems are among the entries for the Society of Classical Poets’ 2012 Poetry Competition. Related Post ‘Ode to the Great Highland Pipes’ by Joseph Char... For Bill Horn Send up on wings of blood our fathers’ cry, Though the unhearing dead brook not your sound, And flesh yet binds us to the groaning gr... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.