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Today at TIME OF THE POET Republic we celebrate poetry with prolific Poet, Professor DEWITT CLINTON. A great man of letters, distinguished literary arts doyen. Iconic and Acclaimed Poet.  Professor Emeritus and dynamic wordsmith. Time of the Poet is greatly humbled to feature this versatile and vibrant. Man of Letters whose merits are beyond common reach.  PROLIFIC.  Professor Clinton’s poetry is weaved with great tact, requisite zeal coupled with verbal dexterity and artistic prowess. The verses are turgid with reason while the rhythm is nothing less than captivating. His writers’ profile is elephantine, he swigged Canterbury tales to the dregs, dinned Shakespearean sonnets, munched the Metaphysics chocolates and the refreshing beverage is Paradise Lost and Langston Hughes protest becomes his dessert.  ICONIC. Thank you greatly Distinguished Professor for affording us this literary platinum opportunity to the poetic wine from your wonder palm wine tree of artistic stardom. Let me hasten to note that this set of poems  were previously published by Be-zine , Arts and Humanities as founded by our Poetry Tigress G JAMIE DEDES and Co- Edited by our Poetry Chef MICHAEL DICKEL during  a collaborative April month  gig. SALUTATIONS. by our  Together We Rise – Blurb by TIME OF THE POET Curator, Mbizo CHIRASHA.

                       

 SO ENTICING , SO DELECTIBLE , SO NOW

Just think about it please, and don’t worry a bit
As no one lasts that long anyways, but here’s the
Scoop, I am still here, and so glad to know you
Are still here, but then, what can we make of
All those who now are not here, and somehow
I’d like to be acquainted with all of you who have
Up and left us, in spite of all the care and love of
Everyone who hoped to save you, and all you
Who probably inhaled the wrong wisp of air
That promised an early death to you and all
Those close to you, and this is what we all
Wonder about, as we try to go about wondering
How in the heck did any of us every plan for
Something as wicked and invasive as something
Like this, and nobody, nobody ever wants this
To keep dropping people, some of whom are
As close to us as a wife, or a loved one, or our
Dear grandparents who we love so much but
Are now gasping for air, and wondering who
Just now breathed this deadly gasp of air
Which now has infected almost all of us who
Seem to not have any idea that we’re
On the way out, even though most of us
Had hoped for a lovely evening with all
Of us, gathered around a plate of such
Delectables what we all so wanted to
Taste and savor and toast to our beautiful
Loved ones, who we simply cannot imagine
Not being here tomorrow, as we’re now
At the crematorium, wondering why Julie
And Maurice are now measuring just how
High the temperature is to send all of us who
Know how flesh will slowly sear to invisibility
Into what’s left of ash and bone, and possibly
We’ll be there too, in just a few days, as
Nobody really knows who’s coughed and
Sprayed so many unknown travelers that
Sooner or later, as in, pretty soon, you and
Perhaps even me, well, we’re all going to
End up as ash and bone, and nobody will
Ever remember any of this in even a few
Years, but isn’t this what everybody predicted,
That sooner or later, all of us would inhale
Someone else, and then we’d be the un-
Fortunate one who stopped breathing
In only a few minutes, and no one no one
Knew exactly what had just happened
Even though no one no one really expected
Something like this, for even the neighbors
Asked, are you okay, and of course, no one could
Even wonder that no one no one was okay as all
Of us, or most of us, will leave the earth for ever
And no one no one wanted any of this to happen
Except for a small harmless creature as so few
Knew anything about was harvested for its flesh,
And then, quite surprisingly, we all just died
Just like that, sometimes in a matter of just
A few minutes, and how, how could that
Be something we thought was so cute, so
Charming, so delectable, so enticing, so now?

© 2020, DeWitt Clinton

 

PROF500

 

ON LEAVING SOCRATES ALONE WITH HIS JAILER

(for my students of The Symposium, The Apology,

Crito and Phaedo)

What started out as a sex wine party turned into a major

Mind concussion for my students, but still, we waded

Through the prose, hopeful they’d find out why

He insisted on so many questions, so many questions,

So many disillusioned Athenians. Yet toward the end,

We could only face the charges, something about impiety

And influencing the youth, both trumped up, of course,

Mostly as a ruse to run him out of town, if he would go.

But we knew he would not go.  We voted to acquit,

Even invoking Johnny Cochran’s “if it doesn’t fit,”

But sadly they were only seven at the time, more up

On Paris’s short sojourn than old football stars facing

Bogus trials.  Late in the day, we even considered assisting

Our friend out into the dark, but as you must know,

He trusted in the Laws even if the Laws never assumed

It would go this far.  We talked about “Prison Break,”

But few even had time to watch that, so busy chewing

The dense prose of friend/reporter Plato late on the scene.

Most of us were quite done in by all the “soul talk”

Of those last pages, and then, we had to leave, some students

Actually having lost their speech, some needing crutches,

Some on life support, leaving our friend wandering

Through the underground calling out for Homer or Orpheus

Or anyone who wouldn’t mind sitting down for a very long

Conversation about nearly everything, since time is now

Beyond even Infinity.  That’s when I left, too, our poor

Cave-like classroom a faux jail cell, wondering if any of us

Could have comforted our gadfly, our inquirer, who is

Just now lifting his cup, resigned, cheery even. Au revoir,

Old friend, let’s hope your students do well on their final.

– excerpt from At the End of War

 

 

     ALL ABOARD

How soon can I catch the train out of here?
No use catching the train out of here, is there?
What use is catching the train out of here
When all I want is to get out of here?
Somebody tell me what’s the point of leaving
Like that, out of here, on the way to Santa Fe
Where I’ve never been except for one weekend.
Lovely isn’t it, this situation where you see me
Just like this, trying to get out of Dodge in time?
Really, what’s so important about leaving now
Instead of leaving long ago when I could leave?
Now it’s pretty much impossible to leave as
I have no idea really where the train might stop.
You’ve been here, haven’t you, wondering what’s
Next, except you’re a lot like me, not knowing
Really what might make the difference staying
And living through all of this, or not living through
All of this, and just to make it clear to those who
Are still here, it’s something you’ve wondered
About, too, isn’t it, so it isn’t something that you’re
Completely bamboozled by, is it, but then why
In the world did you stay where you are all these
Years, thinking staying was what would make
All the difference, but then what the heck makes
All the difference, yes? But then you’re so wise
Much wiser than I’ll ever be as I’m trying to find
Even a way out of the ever-sinking situation
I’m in, but then, no one really cares about that,
Right and maybe that’s the problem here, isn’t
It, that you or me have no clue as to how to get
The heck out of here, and staying is just about
As worse, or is it, perhaps it’s just another night
Wondering why has this turned out this way
As nobody ever nobody ever wanted things to
Turn this way, but they have old buddy, they
Have, and just exactly what are we going to do
About what’s happened, and it not’s that it has
Happened before, really, is that what you’re
Thinking because if you are, well, we have a
Lot of work to do to get out of Dodge on the
Train that leaves late at night, and actually,
I’m a million miles from Dodge even though
I sat for years in the Long Branch Saloon
Wondering what might happen down the road
Next year, but now, it’s been so many years
None of us have enough fingers to even count
What’s happened to all of us, and then we were
So hopeful things would turn out so pleasant
And nobody ever told us about what the
Snipers were waiting for high up in the trees
Of Vietnam, just waiting to sight in on those
Beautiful double brass bars that would almost
Instantly evaporate a squad who probably
Never ever wanted to be here, or there, but
Then we were, and so maybe that’s how all
Of this probably started, like that, like now,
And we’re pretty close to losing it, but then,
We’re standing at the end of the line just
About to board the train for somewhere
Out of here, and please, please, would
Someone just say where we might last
The long night sitting on that seat, staring
Out into the darkness just like we did
When our whole firebase was overrun?
Please, who knows a good place to step
Off the world and enter into something
Nobody ever expected, like this, now

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Our Iconic Wordsmith,  DEWITT CLINTON is Professor Emeritus at the University of
Wisconsin-Whitewater, and lives in Shorewood.Recent poems of his have appeared in Lowestoft Chronicle, The NewReader Review, The Bezine,The Poet by Day, Verse-Virtual, Poetry Hall, Muddy River PoetryReview, Across the Margin, and Art + Literature Lab.  He has two poetry collections from New Rivers Press, The Conquistador Dog Textsand The Coyot. Inca Texts, a recent collection of poems, At the End of the War, (Kelsay Books, 2018), and another is in production from Is A Rose Press, a collection of poetic adaptations of Kenneth Rexroth’s100 Poems from the Chinese. His poems, essays, and book reviews have also appeared in Wise Guys: AnOn-line Magazine,  the Journal of Progressive Judaism (with co-author Rabbi David Lipper),  Journal ofInter-Religious Dialogue, Cultural Studies< => Critical Methodologies, Storytelling Sociology: Narrative as Social Inquiry, and Divine Inspiration:?The Life of Jesus in World Poetry (Oxford U Press).  A few of his poems have been choreographed by the UW-Milwaukee Dance Department, Dance Works, andDance Circus in Milwaukee. He is a substitute/part time Iyengar Yoga instructor for seniors atthe Shorewood Public Library and through the Milwaukee Public Library System.  He has trained for, and participated in marathons, half marathons, and shorter distances, and has also completed half Ironman, Olympic, and Sprint distance triathlons.

             

 

                                   

              TIME OF POET REPUBLIC eDitor

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MBIZO CHIRASHA ,Freedom of Speech Fellow to PEN- Zentrum  Deutschland,Germany. Alumni  of the International Human Rights  Arts Festival  Fellowship in New-York, USA.Literary Arts Activism Diplomatie.  Globally Certified  Arts Mediums Curator and Influencer. Internationally Published Page and Spoken Word Poet. Writer in Residence.  Arts for Human Rights Catalyst.  Core Team Member of the Bezine Arts and Humanities Project. His illustrious poetry , hybrid writings , political commentary ,short fiction , book reviews  and Arts Features are published in more  than 400 spaces notably the Monk  Arts and Soul in  Magazine  in United Kingdom. Atunis Poetry.com in Belgium. Demer press poetry series in Netherlands. World Poetry Almanac in Mongolia.Poesia journal inSlovenia. Bezine Arts and Humanities Webzine in USA. The Poet a Day in Brooklyn ,USA. Litnet Writers Journal in South Africa. African Crayons in Nigeria. Poetry Bulawayo in Zimbabwe. Pulp-pit USA.the Fictional Cafe international Journal , Texas USA. Best New African Poetry series in Zimbabwe, Zimbolicious Poetry Collections in Zimbabwe. Co-edited Street Voices International Publications with Andreas Weiland  in Germany.Co-Edited  Silent Voices Anthology, a Tribute to Chinua Achebe. Co-Edited the Corpses of Unity,solidarity collection to victimzed Cameroonians with Nsah Mala. Curated and Edited the Zimbabwe We Want Poetry ,Inside Digraceland speaking poetic truth to the Mugabe regime and other bad regimes.  He owns the Time of  the Poet blog zine ,MIOMBOPUBLISHING that published the GlobalCallforPeaceProject titled the Second NAME of EARTH is Peace.A LETTER to the PRESIDENT his experimental  resistance poetry collection was released  in August 2019 by Mwanaka and Media Publishing.. Co- Authored Whispering Woes of Ganges and Zambezi with Sweta Vikram in India. Good Morning President his first poetry collection was published in 2011  by Zimbabwean published based in United Kingdom, Diaspora Publishers. Chirasha is  Founder  and the Chief Editor of several poetry and literary arts projects.

                                  COFFEE CUBS

INSIDE the Poetry  Cafe–    This section  features Profiles of established Poets , Writers and Artists from  around the globe  and Submissions  are by invitation.

 

                              TIME OF THE POET

An Internet based Poetry Center,  Archiving Theme based Digital Poetry Anthologies and  Profiling Iconic Poets and Writers.

One thought on “INSIDE the Cafe with Prof DEWITT CLINTON, Acclaimed Poet of our Times.

  1. It is great meeting a great man of literary prowess and poetic valor, Professor Emeritus DeWitt Clinton. Thank you Literary TigressJamie Dedes Poetry Chef Michael Dickel and for introducing to the Time of Poet Republic accomplished doyens of Letters. Together We Rise.

    Liked by 1 person

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