BY JAN HAAG

POETRY + MUSIC + TEXTILE ART + TRAVEL + ESSAYS + FICTION

INTRODUCTION + HAAG'S BIO



NOTICE: PLAGIARISM ON AOL POETRY BOARDS


My name is Jan Haag. My website is janhaag.com. Among other works, janhaag.com includes many poems I have written in the last thirty years. The website is titled "By Jan Haag," and was initially posted on November 9, 1996. Every page in every section is copyrighted. Every quotation and reference to the works of others is properly cited.

I post my poetry on the Internet because I believe the Internet is the greatest medium ever invented for poets, and for making poetry available to a vast world wide audience of poetry readers and poetry lovers. However, it has the disadvantage of being vulnerable to the unscrupulous -- especially those unwilling or unable to write works of their own and who, therefore, plagiarize the works of others.

One or more plagiarizers using the names NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Frederick, Fred, FTeregul, and possibly people using other code names or pseudonyms, have stolen at least a hundred poems from janhaag.com and posted the stolen poems on AOL Writers Club, Poetry Boards, I, II, III, the Edge of the Universe, Coffee Shop, Sassy's Coffee Shop, signing the poems with a variety of the names mentioned above -- most often using the name "Susanna."

Be assured, I never gave my permission to anyone at anytime to repost any of my work anywhere using any name other than my own: Jan Haag.

In addition to the willful, intentional and ongoing plagiarizing of my work, NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Frederick, Fred, FTeregul, as well as those signing themselves as Jon (TheHBKid187@aol.com), and Peter Stone (Paris REVIEW@aol.com) and possibly people using other code names and pseudonyms, have plagiarized the works of Nazim Hikmet, Fyodor Tyutchev, Ian Lancashire, Nihat Ziyalan, Yasar Kemal, Ataol Behramoglu, and possibly other poets.

To help stop these plagiarists and to rectify the misuse of my work which they posted without permission and without proper credit on AOL Boards, AlwaysLisa@aol.com, a member of AOL will repost, with my permission and proper credit, the poems plagiarized by NorthStar1007 et al.

NOTE: EVERY POET, EVERY CONTRIBUTOR, EVERY READER OF AOL BOARDS CAN HELP STOP PLAGIARISM!

To check any poem one suspects of being plagiarized: "Search" the NET for any line from the poem -- enclose the line in quotes. (I use Google.com) The website where the line is found will be called up. Use "find" within the website to locate the particular line/poem. When you discover a poem has been plagiarized, notify Tracey, the Writers Club Board Monitor at THopeB@aol.com (she seems to be the most responsive) as well as AOL's Legal and Terms of Service Departments.

ABOVE ALL, NOTIFY THE AUTHOR.

(Note: This "search" technique does not work in reverse. The poems posted on AOL's Poetry Boards do not come up in a "search" via Google or via any other regular search engine.)

I was first notified by HEBAnnie@aol.com on August 17, 2001 of the extensive plagiarizing of my poetry by NorthStar1007 et al from janhaag.com and its reposting on AOL Boards with fraudulent signatures.

On September 1, 2001, Tracey of AOL informed me: "When it was called to my attention that some of the postings in the "Coffee Shop" folder on the Poetry I message board in the Writers Club were copied from your website, I removed them (6/18/01), and sent them to AOL's Terms of Service department. To be on the safe side, a couple of weeks ago, I also removed *any* poetry from that AOL member in the "Coffee Shop" folder."

Note: Because I did not hear of the plagiarizing until 8/17/01, I do not know whether or not the following one-hundred-sixteen (116) poems, here reposted with my permission, include those taken down on 6/18/01, or if, indeed, there were many more poems plagiarized and posted before that date. Beginning on 8/17/01 I have some 600 pages of emails, documenting the plagiarizing, and the fact that though AOL was repeatedly informed, they did nothing more about removing the plagiarized poems after 6/18/01 until 9/06/01.

On September 6, 2001, Tracey of AOL informed me: "I've gone through every folder on the Poetry I message board in the Writers Club, from January 1, 2001, and did find one poem that I had missed earlier. That is now removed."

When I objected and said I had been informed that there were still some of my poems posted on AOL Boards by the plagiarizers, NorthStar1007 et al, she checked again, and...

Later on September 6, 2001, Tracey of AOL informed me: "You're right; I hadn't realized that this AOL member had posted on the Poetry II message board as well as Poetry I. I've gone through every folder on the Poetry II and Poetry III message boards, and made sure that any postings by that AOL member that contained poetry were removed."

The entity referred to in the above 9/01/01 and 9/06/01 e-mails as "that AOL member" is NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Frederick, Fred, FTeregul. I assume that when she says that all postings "...that contained Poetry were removed," this includes not only my poetry, but all the other postings that NorthStar et al plagiarized from other poets.

If you see any posting by any of the NorthStar et al names, check them out by "searching" the lines of the poems. If a poem posted on AOL has been plagiarized get in touch with the original author, notify AOL, notify Tracey.

"AOL Anywhere Terms and Conditions of Use" contract posted at http://www.aol.com/copyright.html and "Rules of User Conduct" http://www.aol.com/copyright/rules.html strictly and specifically forbids copyright infringement. Therefore, under AOL's Terms of Service, I assume AOL has barred NorthStar1007 et al and the actual user(s) these names represent from any further use of AOL.

Along with my DMCA Complaint Notice sent to AOL, I suggested as partial remedy for my website having been so extensively plagiarized, that AOL repost each of the poems on the same Poetry Boards over my signature and copyright notice where the plagiarized poems had been posted by NorthStar1007 et al.

So far, I have had no word from AOL's Legal or Terms of Service Departments. However, on September 1, 2001, Tracey sent an email saying: "You're more than welcome to post your work on our Poetry boards, with any appropriate copyright and authorship notices."

Therefore, AlwaysLisa@aol.com will begin today, with my permission, to repost the one-hundred-sixteen (116) poems plagiarized by NorthStar1007 et al, and brought to my attention by AOL users. There may have been more which, as mentioned above, were removed by Tracey as of 6/18/01.

When this reposting is completed, a page will be available on my website, janhaag.com, which will include more extensive documentation, my DMCA Complaint Notice and AOL's Legal and Terms of Service responses, as well as documentation about the still on-going plagiarism from the works of other poets. The URL for that page will be posted at the end of these one-hundred-sixteen (116) reposted poems.

I offer many thanks to AlwaysLisa@aol.com, SyrenaVars@aol.com and HEBAnnie@aol.com, the poets and Poetry Board contributors who have helped me to identify the plagiarizers, and the poems that were plagiarized, and bring this unconscionable copyright infringement to AOL's attention. The on-going dedication and work of these three women is a gift to every poet.

Jan Haag
janhaag.com
September 21, 2001


The Collected Works of Jan Haag are posted on her website, janhaag.com. The poetry section beings at http://janhaag.com/POpoetry.html. This opening page fully indexes all Collections and individual poems By Jan Haag.

[Note: For when and where each of the poems plagiarized from my website -- and from the websites of at least ten other poets -- were posted on AOL, consult this documentation.




Most of the poems plagiarized by NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Frederick, Fred, FTeregul (henceforth referred to as NS et al or NS) were copied verbatim from my collection titled: The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH, which begins at http://janhaag.com/PODesIntro.html on my website which bears my initial signature and title: "By Jan Haag."

At least one-hundred-four (104) poems were plagiarized from this collection by NS et al and posted under NS's subject title "English Poetry Forms" on AOL Poetry Boards with fraudulent signatures -- usually "Susanna". However, occasionally the poems are signed with other names from the NS et al cluster.

For the most part, each of my "Forms" poems is titled with the form's traditional name. Nonetheless, many of my actual titles were altered and person's names within poems have been changed. Also, many of these poems as posted by NS et al used definitions as epigraphs. These are not my epigraphs and were never meant to accompany the poems.

Indeed, some of these definitions, as well as several of the "form" poems NS posted, were plagiarized from Ian Lancashire's Poetry website at http://www.library.utoronto.ca/utel/rp/terminology.html. Other of NS's definitions may or may not have been plagiarized from other sources.

In addition to the poems themselves, NS also appropriated sections, verbatim, from my Introduction to The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH, http://janhaag.com/PODesIntro.html.

With the help of AlwaysLisa@aol.com, that Introduction is reposted here in full:




(NOTE: I have CAPITALIZED the specific statements stolen by the plagiarizer NS et al. Having plagiarized these statments, NS posted them on AOL's Poetry Board and signed them with the name "Susanna.")


By Jan Haag

The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH

INTRODUCTION AND INDEX



Poetic Forms Used In English is a project in which I INTEND TO WRITE AT LEAST ONE POEM IN EVERY FORM USED IN ENGLISH AND, AS IT IS WORKING OUT, TO DELVE FROM TIME TO TIME INTO FORMS FROM OTHER LANGUAGES WHICH MAY NOT, SO FAR, HAVE BEEN USED IN ENGLISH. NO ONE CAN PUT A DEFINITE NUMBER ON HOW MANY "ENGLISH" FORMS THERE ARE. THE VARIATIONS, VARIANTS, VERSIONS, THE WHOLE, PARTIAL OR RE-ARRANGED BORROWINGS FROM OTHER LANGUAGES, AND THE POSSIBILITIES WITHIN FORMS ARE TOO NUMBEROUS TO OFFER A STABLE COUNT. ABOUT 400 -- perhaps. Began on July 18, 1997 (after two aborted earlier efforts) I have as of today, February 5, 1999, written a poem in each of 326 different forms. The project continues...

The theme is desolation. Not only desolation of landscape and spirit, but desolation of the mind, of psyche, creative energy. Many are positive poems, as I happen to love the desolate landscape of the desert. When I drive into the desert, see the desolation, the form and the bones of the landscape, I feel I can breathe again. I love wide open spaces, spaces where "nothing" grows. I love the sea. I love paved over and bricked in spaces too, if they are beautifully proportioned and monumentally conceived as is Red Square at the University of Washington and Red Square in Moscow. When I was in Russia, the beauty of Red Square was mitigated, for there were guards standing about making sure you walked within marked paths across the vast open space. They didn't want you wandering just any place in the nothingness. There is danger -- perhaps especially -- in emptiness.

There are questions, poems, desolations of the mind that I cannot seem to get beyond. Desolations in trying to solve problems, particularly the problem: to see things as others do. I see the ridiculous in the held opinions about many things on this wide green ball bouncing through the void and realize that almost all of what is called "human knowledge" consists of mere entertainment for the mind.

There are desolations of being alone, desolations of being with others. There is also the desolation of acquiring orphanhood at sixty-three; desolation as seen in a sea of sand; in a morning with nothing to do. The poems are being posted in the order in which they were written. They are, however, indexed alphabetically by form name. (Some of the poems, but by no means all of them, have individual names). Eventually I hope to cross-indexed all the poems by type, country of origin, etc.

FOR THE MOST PART, I CHOOSE THE FORM OF THE DAY AT RANDOM -- WHATEVER HAPPENS TO STRIKE MY FANCY. AN OPEN-ENDED ADVENTURE -- AS IS LIFE. I VERY MUCH ENJOY THESE WANDERINGS ON THE "GRID", AND HOPE THAT YOU WILL TOO.

Jan Haag
February 26, 1999
University of Washington
Seattle, Washington

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODesIntro.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission




The following one-hundred-four (104) poems were formerly posted on AOL's Poetry Boards I, II, III by the plagiarizers, NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Fred, Frederick, Fteregul, and possibly persons using other code names or pseudonyms.

The original poems, with correct titles, dates, epigraphs and epilogues are here reposted by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with the permission of their author, Jan Haag.

The numbers from #i to #xv and from #1 to #336 within The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH collection refer to the order in which I wrote the poems.

Jan Haag
janhaag.com
September 21, 2001



The following eleven (11) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes-i-ixv.html


#i ACROSTIC I

1987

A CONSCIENCE ACCOUNTING


Curiosity eaten migrants, a cantata
of old velvets of darker-than-mossy-green shroud chic
nacerous white baby's breath sprays in cinematic
spots down below the delicacy where mixed seco
candle wax drips tears with running blood. Mystical Mu
illuminates grotesquely bubbling phenomena.
Egregious energies scorch pitiful flesh of taut
neti neti Indians who survived a mini
creation blast to become iniquitous, fine-drawn,
each-hand-out, kindly people, toothless, smiling, trembling,

aggressive. In horror I shrink from long, hermetic,
crumpled fingers picking swollen limbs or quickly go,
coining reasons. Or not. Beneath my bosom-clutched purse,
only just breathing, knowing I am he and he sees,
under my pale urgency, the horror which panic
negligently accepts as living proof that, "Si, si,"
times advance and feelings blow to proportions too fine.
I hide beneath the crumpled, verdant velvet where non-
noisy babies breathe, eaten by curious antic
gruesomeness, gently languorous, loathing you and me.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes-i-ixv.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#iii ALCAICS I

1987

FUNDRAISING


Foregoing laughter, rhyming and reasoning,
for longer lengths of time and for specialties,
four hidden maidens marched while singing
furtively, slid to a halt and stood pale.

Five under fifty greeted and grumbled to
free what would have been silently salient.
Few famous, famished fortunes fumed or
furious, frowning sat sadly silent.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes-i-ixv.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#vi BALLAD I

6-30-85

After she met with love and regret,
she sighed the day long.
She mooned in the night, a beautiful sight,
so softly singing this song.

During the day, she slept by the way.
Her trials and her tears made her strong,
a beautiful sight in the dead of the night,
so softly singing this song.

At dawn she would croon goodbye to the moon,
laugh with the sun, beyond wrong
she sat late in the dusk, scented by musk,
so softly singing this song.

As the season went round, she altered her gown,
a new love for her came along.
Now mother and daughter sit by the water
so softly singing this song.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes-i-ixv.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#vii BALLADE I

1985

CENSER


We lay in the red and gold light
of warped moired silk shades to shun
the curious, also the night,
nibbling flowers, thinking it fun
to admit we acted as one
in the dark, sanctioning wild schemes,
inhaling the incense cotton,
the thick-scented smoke of old dreams.

On a pale pallet under bright
dawn, while the immaculate sun
kept walled reality in flight,
we smoked out hope, making her run.
Not old enough to be clean, none
too happy with life or sweet creams,
we blotted the quip and the pun,
the thick-scented smoke of old dreams.

We rose after hours in tight
spaces, tracing the fuming gun
of hard candy fancies, a kite,
a drum; nowhere a buttered bun,
even for breakfast. Like Trajan,
we began to hide behind teams,
wondering why we'd only won
the thick-scented smoke of old dreams.

Now we stand at midday, all's done
and old, knowing stark, silent screams
can do nothing, only beckon
the thick scented smoke of old dreams.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes-i-ixv.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#viii SICILIAN SESTET I

5-19-87

The roads run straight into the lake. Down deep,
five feet or more beneath the water, salt
shifts, filling its subtle grades, blue-green. Leap
awy, avoid the coming tide, foam, malt,
the doom that inch by inch, silent, will seep
through any fissure, shatter each small fault.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes-i-ixv.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#x HAIKU I

3-31-87

The skeeters shadow,
obsidian set in light,
interrupts the frog.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes-i-ixv.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#xi TRIOLET II

5-21-87

Sorrow and freedom are as light
as the kiss of a peacock's wing.
Grace, iridescent, lifts the night.
Sorrow and freedom are as light
as the blue-green and blue of sight
within eyes gold and shimmering.
Sorrow and freedom are as light
as the kiss of a peacock's wing.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes-i-ixv.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#xii TRIOLET III

5-21-87

I grieve for my mother being gone.
I feel great freedom after her flight.
Lying under the trees on the lawn,
I grieve for my mother being gone.
I see life's grace going on and on,
observe the heart growing erudite.
I grieve for my mother being gone.
I feel great freedom after her flight.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes-i-ixv.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#xiii TRIOLET IV

5-21-87

Grief pierces my heart for those who have died and will die.
My spirit soars in freedom, lightened by those it lost.
Not taught in love, I've only known to count costs and sigh.
Grief pierces my heart for those who have died and will die.
Lighter and lighter my spirit rises to defy
concealed boundaries, hidden struggles, defiance storm tossed.
Grief pierces my heart for those who have died and will die.
My spirit soars in freedom, lightened by those it lost.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes-i-ixv.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#xiv HEROIC SESTET I

5-19-87

There is no sky. The clouds in white have hid
the dome, the blue, the immensity, width, distance
the height, the depth. We thrust steady amid
the miasmic veil all shot with hope, a glance
from God, a whisper from the galaxy.
We'll triumph by persistent jets, you'll see.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes-i-ixv.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#xv ITALIAN SESTET I

5-19-87

The clouds have touched the mountain snow with lakes
of deep and humid blue. The sky kisses
the tips of trees, straight, tall, dark, reaching heights
to scratch the cotton clouds with tender rakes,
and down along sheer cliffs, wild abysses
condense its sun bright days to awesome nights.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes-i-ixv.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



The above eleven (11) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes-i-ixv.html




The following poems were formerly posted on AOL's Poetry Boards I, II, III by the plagiarizers, NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Fred, Frederick, Fteregul, and possibly persons using other code names or pseudonyms.

The original poems, with correct titles, dates, epigraphs and epilogues are here reposted by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with the permission of their author, Jan Haag.

The numbers from #i to #xv and from #1 to #336 within The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH collection refer to the order in which I wrote the poems.

Jan Haag
janhaag.com
September 21, 2001


The following eleven (11) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes001-033.html


#1 ACROSTIC II

7-18-97

To be so desolate for poetry! --
Hear my lone call from seas beyond the sea!
Earth house me, heaven nurture me, come rains,

Decide my fate. O wind, destroy the pains
Endured, the careful plans for rectitude
Sought high, or crept upon as light and rude.
Once writ, twice sold for practice, it is not
Less easily, precisely crafted, wrought,
Addressed, sent out, purchased, remembered, told,
Told twice for lack or love of form. Each mold
Intrinsically, hermetically misfiled
Over or under complications mild,
Nonce-formed, perfected, more than anyone can

Peruse conveniently or keep in mind.
O do it, just do it! Try Zen, try pen
Embracing image and sense. Forget. Just ken
Most gently what you can. Life is not so short,
So circumscribed as poetry's last forte.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes001-033.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#3 TELESTICH

7-20-97
Post concert, my heart soars opiated,
hosts higher enchantment, conceives Lethe
dreams, calls up desire, drums danger. Outcries
team through my passages, temples, and go
coon hunting beneath dark thoughts of cruel
boons granted by guru, wise without Sa.
Rings round the small, great eyes gleaming, protect
king prowling interstices, nobled koi
fish, sturdy from all tense drama, echo
wishes -- fearful as all becomes music known.


Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes001-033.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#8 PANTOUM

7-26-97

The wild blue sky shelters the awful sun,
the grey mud flats consume the endless land,
the desolation rules nothingness, none
but terrifying creatures try to stand.

The grey mud flats consume the endless land,
no trees or grasses blow nor shift the wind
but terrifying creatures try to stand
against the storm, the sand. The death's head grinned.

No trees or grasses blow nor shift the wind
or dance nor fill eternity with light
against the storm, the sand. The death's head grinned,
its hollow eyes quite empty, like the night.

The desolation rules nothingness, none,
the wild blue sky shelters the awful sun.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes001-033.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#9 KYRIELLE

7-27-97

The great oceans of ancient times
yawn wide their jaws, their mountains mist,
the landscape, flat, dry and sand, mimes
eternity's shores, death's great fist.

The sun born amid chaos shines
through the sunset pass, verdant, kissed
by unimagineable lines,
eternity's shores, death's great fist.

Reverberating like a gong
behind monumental rocks, hissed
great snakes, green and bright blue, along
eternity's shores, death's great fist.

Freedom! the soul cries gliding by
through the rocks looking for the gist
of life's charm that might justify
eternity's shores, death's great fist.

Tears fall as the boundless beauty
of nothingness sheers high, a twist,
a fine, spare elegance to see
eternity's shores, death's great fist.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes001-033.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#11 HAIKU II

7-29-97

The smell in the air,
pure, sensuous, radiant --
sun shine as bird song

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes001-033.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#12 SICILIAN TERCET/TRIPLET

7-29-97

The mountains, gray and quite transparent, drift
one over, under, through each other, high
above the desert salt and sandy cliff.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes001-033.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#13 ENGLISH SONNET (Shakespearean)

8-6-97

When memories begin to rise from my
sonambulant and sleepy brain, twilight
clears clouds that seem to gather to defy
the sun, the warmth, the life, the dance, the bright

blue beauty of a dying summer's lore.
When stars begin to wink new fears rise up
always new fears. Does God want terror more
or humans' pitiful love in a cup

with golden etchings commemorating
the memorable few times when God's kind smile
outweighed his wrath? Is God mean and blaming
small, frightened and as full of fear, nay vile

as creatures born of his loneliness, born
in his image, born cringing, forlorn.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes001-033.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#16 CINQUAIN

8-9-97

To die
today like this,
unleash to float among
the molecules, at last released . . .
Where to?

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes001-033.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#18 BLUES SONNET

1-19-98

"Huis the pronoun of divine Presence."


All humans make up sacred words for praise.
Yes, humans make up mighty words for praise,
then shock themselves with the constructed maze.

So men and women make up words to shock.
Yes, humans will construct wild words to shock
then make audacious, wiley use of stock

small bugaboos, mosquito-haunted finds.
Yes, bugaboos, mosquito-haunted finds --
buzzing, burring, exacting haunted minds

that dare not speak of allahiorhu.
Yes, dare not speak of allahiorhu,
the rich, creative, too exacting few

who decline to conceive of "one with God,"
be "deified" and burst, with hu,their pod.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes001-033.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#23 ENGLISH ODE

1-24-98

The desert stretches to the winds, to sands
beyond the hills, to cactus prickly green
and blue, the sky above as pale as lands
all washed by winter snow. But heat -- a sheen,
a sheet, a sword, a violent furor
of rays -- so strong no one can see the light
in sun's great circle shimmers, glints and glows,
and bids each creature to exult in war
against denied, curtailed, quite blinded sight,
to find some means to overcome its foes,

find shade, cool rest from deserts lying -- won
because it hides, it waits, it melts, it steals
all things: will, water, rights -- to feed the sun's
insatiable brightness. Its shine congeals
what is not there. It manifests mirages,
and vision, elusive insight, cold nights,
bright moons, inhospitable, reclusive
long views of solitude in dreams, barrages
of pains, hallucinations, small delights,
rage, sorrow, hatred, fury, fire. If

short life were lived on a desert plateau
with wind and sand and stars and scentless waste,
desireless stasis, Argus-eyed deep woe
to watch each Io move, each breath, each taste,
the sun would burn up envy, fever, too,
and leave the mountains bare and stark, a place
with widening space and air so clear and cliffs
of joy so sheer, one's desert love would woo
the beating heart to happiness like lace
quite fine, quite sheer, quite open, and bestow all gifts.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes001-033.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#33 QUATRAIN

2-2-98

Simple and easy, really quite queasy
is how one feels after the news,
merry and glarey, really quite darey
as if one had a pair of new shoes

to dance and romance, without a glance
to future or past or civility.
Lewd is the news, crude, rude, and booed,
with lightweight anchors loaded with millions

to gossip and giggle and tell the dirt
to flirt with porn which has become the norm
to aid the world to attend to murder
while earth shattering slaughters go unheard of.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes001-033.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



The above eleven (11) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes001-033.html




The following poems were formerly posted on AOL's Poetry Boards I, II, III by the plagiarizers, NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Fred, Frederick, Fteregul, and possibly persons using other code names or pseudonyms.

The original poems, with correct titles, dates, epigraphs and epilogues are here reposted by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with the permission of their author, Jan Haag.

The numbers from #i to #xv and from #1 to #336 within The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH collection refer to the order in which I wrote the poems.

Jan Haag
janhaag.com
September 21, 2001


The following nine (9) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes034-066.html


#36 SICILIAN OCTAVE

2-5-98

The daffodils rise up above the earth
to take a peek at spring. Has she come? Will
she? Won't she? Snowdrops, hyacinths, need birth,
and tulips, too. The crocus must fulfill
her purple promised cup of gold, her mirth.
The wind must blow, the buds must nod. No ill
can come once spring agrees to trust that dearth,
all winter's frozen charm, has mailed his bill.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes034-066.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#38 TRIOLET V

2-7-98

For Bill Clinton, whose political opponents are trying to rape him, in February of 1998,
and for Kenneth Starr, who one might put under oath and question abouthissex life.

Who among us was not brought up
to lie about their nighttime life?
Sex and silence are designed to sup.
Who among us was not brought up
to confine our needs in a small cup?

Sexsanssilence brings national strife.
Who among us was not brought up
to lie about their nighttime life?

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes034-066.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#45 RONDELET

2-13-98

What? Me or I?
The soul protests and stands its ground.
What? Me or I?
It looks with disenchanted eye.
It hears discriminated sound.
It needs to build a sorrow mound.
What? Me or I?

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes034-066.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#48 VILLANELLE

2-14-98

O, the movements on earth are amazing.
As a crab you can live intertidal,
rest abandoned on the dark sand singing.

If you have a celestial yearning,
as a star you'll wander sidereal.
O, the movements on earth are amazing.

Even to the ocean currents twining
Coriolis effects are not lethal,
rest abandoned on the dark sand singing.

If you're fat and most sleepily longing
choose hibernation when corporeal.
O, the movements on earth are amazing.

If it's too hot and you long for cooling,
aestivate prior to winds autumnal,
rest abandoned on the dark sand singing.

Whatever you do, wherever flinging,
create, recreate like God supernal.
O, the movements on earth are amazing,
rest abandoned on the dark sand singing.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes034-066.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#49 SESTINA

2-14-98

The desert opens into solitude.
The high cliffs of loneliness stand inside
the sky gazing down on the blazing sand.
The white sun, invisible and brilliant, shines
on a land without trees, without rivers,
on a land architectonic and nude.

The mountain rocks are glitteringly nude,
their crevices offer dark solitude.
The deep lava once flowed in vast rivers.
Then washed by the grit, the wind ran inside
onto the caves' smooth floors where no sun shines
on darkness damper than cool ocean sand.

There was stillness, the cool silence of sand.
The seepage exposed canyons vast and nude,
Their obsidian, black, gold, glossy shines.
They know the awesome void of solitude
on which one may rough climb, lay claim inside
on the nothingness of sky pale rivers.

They watch desert dust devils jump rivers,
they value heat, the ever shifting sand.
The caves in the mountains offer inside
their night the shelter of pale creatures nude
on full moon or the new moon's solitude.
One can reconcile any thing that shines.

The lava shines, the granite hard rock shines,
the cactus even shines and the rivers --
theaters of time and lost solitude --
their polished surfaces submit to sand
on which they lay claim as nature quite nude.
Onlookers, unused to desert inside

the heart or outside, try again inside,
theorize about everything that shines.
The palo verde, all sleek and quite nude,
thermal in design, green as the rivers
on their way through mountain passes and sand,
on the hot, dry land, stands in solitude.

The caves inside are carved by great rivers.
The sun shines forever making the sand
on the desert nude for walled solitude.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes034-066.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#55 RONDEL

2-19-98

The hyacinth's proud stalk tassels wide in spring.
It's blooms are of pink or of white or of blue
and scented with crispness and sweetness and dew.
It blooms and it dies before the sweet black Bing

cherries yield their buds and white blossoms to sing
their fruits' sweetness, crispness and blushing dark hue.
The hyacinth's proud stalk tassels wide in spring.
It's blooms are of pink or of white or of blue.

Each single blossom or cherry might yet cling
even in the great English gardens of Kew
were it not for Spring's appetites ever new
to devour each fiery passion's brief fling.
The hyacinth's proud stalk tassels wide in spring.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes034-066.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#58 SPLIT COUPLET

2-21-98

She found in time more answered questions yet
unasked, undreamt,

discovered, though her mind was curious,
she, furious,

would hide her ostrich head down deep in sand
avoiding grand

or complicated plans to go, to know
the gifts, the foes,

quite overwhelmed by multitudes of earth's
so subtle mirths

revealing wisdom, woes and lessons vast,
shadows that cast

an endless night on this particular
human's durbar

in which her highest dreams record just she
alone with thee.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes034-066.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#58 SPLIT COUPLET (alternate version)

2-21-98

I found in time more answered questions yet
unasked, undreamt,

discovered, though my mind was curious,
I, furious,

would hide my ostrich head down deep in sand
avoiding grand

or complicated plans to go, to know
the gifts, the foes,

quite overwhelmed by multitudes of earth's
so subtle mirths

revealing wisdom, woes and lessons vast,
shadows that cast

an endless night on this particular
human's durbar

in which my highest dreams record just me
alone with thee.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes034-066.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#63 RONDINE

2-26-98

Decasyllabic is the pentameter line
but hende or hexa or octa is okay.
Ga-lumpf, ga-lumpf, ga-lumpf, ga-lumpf, ga-lumpf, you may,
but variations are keen and, furthermore, fine.
They add a certain elegance like new white wine
or grape juice freshly squeezed under the sun's bright ray.
Decasyllabic,

the ancient modified-Germanic love of sine
waves calculated at any lengths, will alay
love of order -- fudged here, pushed there. The lust for pay
off will decide who'll successfully shine and dine,
decasyllabic-ly.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes034-066.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



The above nine (9) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes034-066.html




The following poems were formerly posted on AOL's Poetry Boards I, II, III by the plagiarizers, NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Fred, Frederick, Fteregul, and possibly persons using other code names or pseudonyms.

The original poems, with correct titles, dates, epigraphs and epilogues are here reposted by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with the permission of their author, Jan Haag.

The numbers from #i to #xv and from #1 to #336 within The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH collection refer to the order in which I wrote the poems.

Jan Haag
janhaag.com
September 21, 2001


The following thirteen (13) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html


#68 OCTAMETER COUPLET

2-28-98

"'March: an Ode' [by Swinburne], is the only instance in the language
of a poem written in octameters." OED, "O" page 53


Do not worry over much
or over tea.
Listen to me.
Listen to the sea.
Carry your arms at rest
and let God's nestlings be.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#69 CLERIHEWS

3-1-98

Did Bill Clinton,
earth's biggest one,
arrive at the top
only to flop?


Kenneth Starr is very far from the truth,
malicious and somewhat uncouth,
for indulging in sex, even for REX,
is about as criminal as shuffling card decks

Independent Council Starr listening to all that are
willing to sing and sting misrepresents the bar.
For indulging in sex, even for a presidented,
is less criminal than laws being re-invented.

Lewinsky was out to get him.
She wanted sex on whatever limb,
Weaned on TV no doubt,
she badly misjudges what life is about.

Even Peter Jennings must bow
to TV's lurid need to wow,
to do in the world's personages
with teapot tempests puffed to outrageous.

President Clinton must keep his pecker in
even though his right to privacy is no sin.
Imagine Hilary's chagrin when they win
to find in her bed all those wimin!

Dr. Lewinsky, give your daughter the key,
advise her to back off from her spree.
Have her come home, away from the "beast,"
or ship her to Nome or to Rome at the least.

Chelsea Clinton, her visage plain,
must feel enormous pain
as she goes to bed each Stanford night
thinking of her father's public and private plight.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#70 ELEGIACS

3-2-98

Pure grief, pure pain, pure greed, pure loss, saved from a life lust,
never afraid, for the fear, horror can't get any worse,

"Out, out!" you cry, wail: "Why!" Screech, plead, waiting to die. "Trust
me," saith God, and dim terror makes you laugh. "What a curse!"

Not perfect, not surfeit, not friendly, not out of gratitude, you flee.
"O, dearest God, it is quite clear you're as helpless as me."

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#72 ITALIAN OCTAVE

3-3-98

Divine beauty, a little sorrow -- how
proportions change as years go by. Laughter
becomes companion, friend, and salts the fur
of pain, hobbles memory, lights the Tao.
Nature's rapid spring, fall do not allow
among its rich colors the curse or burr
of ice nor desert. Great planes of peace stir,
gently enfolding beauty's divine now.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#76 BALLADE SUPREME

3-8-98

Under ice-cold, frosted spring dew
close upon the ground, and quite white,
the lawns appear like crystal glue --
a unity of snow. The rite
which has metamorphosed the night,
turned dark to light, cold, like the moon
silvering, shimmering, a covered boon
making buds withdraw while vines decline,
will not, luckily, last past noon.
The trees will grow, the sun will shine.

The blossoms will have endured the blue
melting of the sky from ink to light
where, now with colors bright in hue,
they will not hesitate to write
of warmth, of joy, renewal, cite
with heady scents and sheer clear tune
the birds return, the lake's new loon.
All spring, as one, serves up its wine.
Even deep in the forest, soon
the trees will grow, the sun will shine.

And yet, in its heart, waits nature's cue,
patient, safe, curled, hid out of sight,
the hardened frost, the cold that's due
when weather fails the tight strung kite
and high winds blows across the site.
Creatures, lizards, snakes on the dune
make pattern's not unlike the rune.
If cautiously, slowly read line by line
in a mournful invocational croon:
the trees will grow, the sun will shine.

Shiva views the heart in a swoon.
Digambara, nude as a 'coon
he'll walkabout as sky clad Jain
preening, loving, so that in June
the trees will grow, the sun will shine.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#84 OCTAVE

3-14-98

The woman's lips blue-black, swollen and overfed,
her body lumpish with undigested bread
and desserts, retaining will enough to breathe
in, sigh, and out, her drooping eyes closing
down, the child with mucus running from its
nose -- both ugly enough to be chosen for death
in ancient India among people
where only beauty was allowed to live --

She thwarts the child, the child screams, thrashes. She
snatches a milk bottle from her over-
flowing bag, sticks the nipple in its mouth
determined food, force fed, her sole comfort
will assuage the awful terror, the fire,
the burning spite. It throws the bottle in-
to -- slim, silent, regal, reading -- a man's
lap. Milk beads on his trousers. He faintly

smiles, delicately thrusts the bottle back
at the frantic, no doubt, accidental
former womb, and, politely, restrains himself,
as I restrain myself from a shrill cry:
"The child doesn't want the milk!" It's body
writhes like a mutilated snake, tosses,
slithers, gyrates, climbs from the soft, tired arms.
Nipple again, again the toss. Caught. It screams,

it whines, it sobs. "Put the milk in the God-
damned sack!" I'd shout, but the bus turns into
a different lane. "Aloha," I spy
the exotic Hawaiian name on a Catholic street
in the Northwest rain. The street, under repair
has altered its barricade. The bus can stop
closer to home. I rise. "Can I get off here?"
Forgo the judge's role? "For an extra

charge." We both laugh. "Thank you," I step from the bus.
"Have a nice day." At last! Silence! Its spring!
The fresh, silent air of the traffic's roar --
I start down hill. The stars of the forsythia
stab high -- two, four feet above the Cascades.
The jumping yellow jacks pull the bees and
the quiet out of the innocent sky that lies
nearby and beyond satiety's mountain.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#86 ROUNDEL (Sketch)

3-16-98

Blueblack Nubian boy, piece of diamond dirt,
unsuitable, and you can't leave him alone.
Child in your care, love is unsuitable, child
in your care, they would have you forebear to bear.
Child in your care, did you rape him?as they say,
or release him from melancholy, sleepless
desire, eons of despair. Love! they prate,
miscegenation they fear, death they insure.

How old was Romeo? What age Juliet?
Make up stories, live them down, forbid them love.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#86 ROUNDEL

3-16-98

Blueblack Nubian boy, piece of diamond dirt,
child in her care, and she can't leave him to toy.
Child in her care, they insist she forbear hurt,
Blueblack Nubian boy.

Youth in her care, love is unsuitable. Coy
child who cares, dares love. Raped him, they say, the flirt,
released from melancholy, his desire, joy.

Shackle his despair! Girt up her love! They're curt,
Make up stories, live them down, hide death's envoy:
magnet and iron, blue bones and white gyrate,
Blueblack Nubian boy.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#91 SEXTILLA

3-21-98

I hold up my heart like a shield,
its favors sheer and well steeled.
My mind is a wall against grief.
I live the beginning of night,
saved by anticipating flight.
Mercifully, my time is yet brief.

The fountains of cherry blossoms
cascade in the Arboretum's
alleys of silver and gold sun
light, reflecting the moon's pale froth
with her clouds and her veils like moth
wings wide on my bare escutcheon.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#96 SEXTILLA II

3-23-98

I was meek and demure and mild,
with a heart quite joyous and wild,
willing to forgo in life man's
love which he declares, lauds and fans,
vowing forever, asking trust,
and leaving, of course, when he must.

But when he returned with a quest
and I, in all innocence, jest
not -- insisted on being joyous,
exultant, wild, myself -- the us
dissolved in his panic, for he
sought meek, mild, motherly, not me.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#97 SEXTILLA III

3-23-98

I saw perfection once in life;
next time I couldn't see at all.
Gradually the iron knife
penetrated my fragile shawl
of admiration, search to be,
as an equal, betrothed to thee.

Perfection thrived, perfection soared,
Foolish, I began to live,
became quite skillful, often gored,
bled with grace, lost face to give
unrequited love. Grew in strength,
fought pain, joy when I was spurned at length.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#98 TRIPLET

3-24-98

When will high stamina desert
Me totally -- to deal with the hell
Man has made?

I caw with the birds in lyrical flight.
Swift through the mottled, illumined twilight,
And weep.

Knowing communality would destroy
Me utterly, I remain as myself,
Separately,

Not yet embraced, drowned, in comfortable
Ocean. Ah, to cease the torture of my
Own mind,

Seek dissolution, a singular death,
Ah, to dissolve in the seas. Ah, the ease,
The ease.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#99 SHORT COUPLET

3-25-98

The leaden largesse of fear abides
deep in my gut and skillfully hides

its origins in the mudane world.
Overfed, overbred and fooled

by gloomy psychic storms, proxy
norms: Madonna on the foxy

screen, day-glo, hybrid, un-natured
tulips bend in trained curtsies to brawl

for space and fame in flowered beds.
Ah, hide their heads! They'll not hear the treads

of bulb-snatchers under moonlight.
Their voiceless throats screaming their plight

staunch hope and lift pride as they'll be
auctioned for a staggering fee.

Next year the market will triple.
Each man bets his gold and nipple.

How can we justify such Ides
in March? "Et tu?" -- hear horrid cries?

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



The above thirteen (13) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html




The following poems were formerly posted on AOL's Poetry Boards I, II, III by the plagiarizers, NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Fred, Frederick, Fteregul, and possibly persons using other code names or pseudonyms.

The original poems, with correct titles, dates, epigraphs and epilogues are here reposted by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with the permission of their author, Jan Haag.

The numbers from #i to #xv and from #1 to #336 within The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH collection refer to the order in which I wrote the poems.

Jan Haag
janhaag.com
September 21, 2001


The following twelve (12) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes100-133.html


#102 ITALIAN MADRIGAL IN TERZA RIMA

3-27-98

The blind children of our television's age
of scorn for human life, and especially death --
they see not the consequences of their rage.

They shoot to kill, to eliminated all breath,
not knowing fragile bodies once stopped will lie
silent forever in the still arms of Seth.

Who is Seth? They, not old enough to descry
life and evil, death or eternity's tax,
sit incarcerated in cells and defy

the tears that rise from the ignorance that racks
their hearts as children unable to face facts --
wanting home and mother's dinner, their small wage,
wanting to wander fields, laugh, to smell the sage.

Jan Haag
For the people of Jonesboro, Arkansas, victims of our age.

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#104c SICILIAN SONNET

3-29-98

The ancient Chinese were obsessed with all writing;
Hindus are ensorceled with sound, sonorous speech;
Tibetans enhance their land's visual charm citing
Om Mani Padme Hum on mandala, rock reach,
on thangka, stupa, chhorten, stone -- lighting
paths with Siddham, Gupta, Lentza to beseech
the winds, the Gods, the trees without indicting
earth's initial capacity to teach.

The southern boy gripping the old black man's hand.
a flash on tv as fast as rela
on a State visit to the slaves forefather's land,
tripping down steps suited, together, bella,
the fragile ex-prisoner, the harassed man,
love for each other, Clinton and Mandela.

Jan Haag
Inspired by the image of Clinton and Mandela on the March 26, 1998 tv news broadcast, both CBS and PBS and probably all the others, where Clinton, on his visit to Africa was descending some stairs holding the 79 year old Mandela's hand. It was so touching, that at the first glimpse (on CBS) tears sprang into my eyes. An image of human compassion and unity and brotherhood far beyond any of their well meaning, well spoken words. The image should be made into a poster and sold throughout America and Africa.

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes067-099.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#106 TERZA RIMA

3-31-98

Within the envelope of my joyous heart
I keep the sealed letter of your sad harms
hoping the warmth of its pulsing beat will chart

a new calligraphy, new runes, new charms,
elevating your mood to spontaneous
delight, in thoughts to over-write alarms,

making a palimpsest as full, glorious
as the twiggy tracery writ over by blooms
sparking the world with springs notorious

sweet smells, sweet scents, filling all the gloomy rooms
with new patterns on new wrought, intricate looms.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes100-133.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#110 ECHO VERSE

4-4-98

They dismissed me from the top priority in hell.
My sins were small, even when I felt quite well enough
to gad and carp and caw. As a curlew, sharp beaked, is
found on shore, so, at sea, all birds who are are enough.
In hell
Enough
Is
Enough
Nor were angels keen to see me arrive in heaven.
Their nets were out for certifiable, pure gold, too.
But base metal, as a human is, they cried: "Let be!"
So cry curlews, pelicans, and cormorants: "Let be!"
In heaven
Too
Let be
Let be

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes100-133.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#116 LONG OCTAVE

4-9-98

Do all man-made beauties contain
a heart of evil, built over
pain, capturing glories of nature's wealth
for private gain, approval's lure,
dazzling the heart of love to remain
ensnarled by outer show, impure
foundations returned by charity's stealth,
saying to the others of earth, "Endure"?

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes100-133.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#117 SHORT HYMNAL OCTAVE

4-10-98

The pattern of morning's black
silence, of emptiness, rain
is ripped by the alarm of greed, of lack.
With more respect for gain,
and a very backhanded knack
for security in vain.
Please get rid of your protected stack,
so we can ignore your pain.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes100-133.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#118 HENDECASYLLABICS

4-11-98

Dus la phab, "to fall into time" (Tibetian)


Down the clear straight passage of "might-be" surges
the density of "is." Timelessness free falls
into time. The known event now emerges
as action; "will" that waited as "was" will cease
yet ever be -- seen, unseen. Holography,
real as vision, dissolves when the last piece
disappears from the pool of eternity.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes100-133.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#119 HENDECASYLLABICS II

4-11-98

Dus la phab, "to fall into time" (Tibetian)


Hover outside of time with dreams, with hopes free
to be or not be, choosing not as spring might
once have sought to be other than she now is.
No choice tenders the shining light of sun, moon
stars. Wind, rain move across the world avoiding
webs of spiders entangled threads restaining
febrile choice and the choiceless leach of seized time.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes100-133.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#120 HENDECASYLLABICS III

4-11-98

Dus la phab, "to fall into time" (Tibetian)


Hover outside of time with dreams, with hopes free
to be or not be, careful with spring urges
once willed beyond harmony seeking to see
no choice tenders the shining light of sun, moon
stars. Wind, rain move across the wild world to chime
webs of spiders entangled threads which pontoon
febrile choice and the choiceless leach of seized time.

Down the clear straight passage of "might-be" surges
the density of "is." Timelessness free falls
into time. The known event now emerges
as action; "will" that waited as "was" will cease
yet ever be -- seen, unseen. Holography,
real as vision, dissolves when the last piece
disappears from the pool of eternity.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes100-133.html
as well as from THE JAIPUR SEQUENCE, http://janhaag.com/PODes4Jaipur01.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#124 DOUBLE ACROSTIC

4-14-98


Another   day   begins  in   the   life   of    Anna.
Nighttime has passed and the rains are soon to begin.
Nature  shifts  her  head eager to  seek out the sun.

May's kissing winds  will dominate the wet, the warm.
Arise    dear    Anna    and  consume  your   banana.
Nothing  will  prevent   variety's   graceful  swoon.
Nowhere  to hide from the  princely day's gusty boon.
Intense,  more   magic  than   the  wandering   Magi,
Numinous gifts are  brought by her dance to the fern,

Goddess  Anna,  enigma,  pale  princess, green  frog.


Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes100-133.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#126 COMPOUND ACROSTIC

4-16-98


Mistress  Ann  reaches  into    her   seventies
Ascending slowly, gracefully,   one   by    one.
Numinous  energy   emerging        to       rev
Nascent     ascents   of   the   spiritual  eye.  
Intuitive  stretching  for teaching  to   learn
Not  to falter  on the cool, tree bordered taut
Ground which shows unquestioned, fidelity's way,


Answering the great soul, the sphere, the mango
Nutrients blessed  by the sun, the falling rain,
Nature's rocks rounding - the path of an Essene.


Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes100-133.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#131 ALEXANDRINE COUPLET

4-21-98

A dark and gloomy day, pigmented by the moon --
who failed to set, who failed to leave, who would not swoon

into the thickness of the night, into the cloud
that dark, with glimmering rim, invited like a shroud

of sacrilegious candles lit to shine along
the way of strange behavior, odd, eccentric, strong

and motivated, misalignment, across the dune
which even the isolated, lonely, haunted loon

forsook, and pushed its dark head into the lake, bowed
by the shocking ineptitude of time banging and loud

-- ended inevitably in darkness to prolong
what would otherwise end with a resounding gong.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes100-133.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



The above twelve (12) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes100-133.html




The following poems were formerly posted on AOL's Poetry Boards I, II, III by the plagiarizers, NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Fred, Frederick, Fteregul, and possibly persons using other code names or pseudonyms.

The original poems, with correct titles, dates, epigraphs and epilogues are here reposted by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with the permission of their author, Jan Haag.

The numbers from #i to #xv and from #1 to #336 within The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH collection refer to the order in which I wrote the poems.

Jan Haag
janhaag.com
September 21, 2001


The following thirteen (13) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html


#135 BALLAD II

4-25-98

O God, I love the desert and solitude stories,
the wind sucking the land and the bones of the humans dry,
the feel of salt and grit on the lips, and the crunch of the sand
under tires, the snow arriving in flurries,
the heat arriving in flames, the vultures, the dead white sky,
the wind sucking the land and the bones of the humans dry,

The mountains circle, the sage grows grey over the rocks,
the wind sucking the land and the bones of the humans dry,
The soft quiet of dusk, stark silence under the stars
reigns over a world without time locks or ticking clocks.
Thorns flourish, love lies buried. I came out alone to die --
the wind sucking the land and the bones of the humans dry,

Sing me songs, tell me gruesome stories, the lore about
the wind sucking the land and the bones of the humans dry.
Nourished by nothing, I'll grasp the gaps between galaxies.
Nothing of life, nothing of earth, nothing of love can rout
O God, your infinite despair! You will not deny
the wind sucking the land and the bones of the humans dry.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#141 SICILIAN QUATRAIN

5-1-98

Susceptibility greater than conscience knows
sits on his heart, waits as greed for beauty
irradiates his personal wild foes
which, with random, smiling ubiquity,

convince the others, energy and need,
to fight, to gain, to be a vessel full
of reasons to kill, to conquer, set new seed,
to breed and breed and breed, neglecting dull,

mild sense and gentle, sweet reason by blind
untempered arrogance which, claiming first
place, feels free to butcher all others, plant, kine
insect, weed in expanding, self-justifying thirst.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#144 VIRELAI

5-4-98

In rich spring's grey gloom
the sun has no room.
Rebel.
Don't let the clouds loom.
Rescue from the tomb
my bell.
Hold it by the flume.
Resist ringing doom
and tell

how the passions quell
when the high bells knell
the rite.
Snatch sun from the well.
Jiggle each prime cell
to write
of the merry dell.
Ding dong, ding dong, pell
mell, cite

great arcs toward the light,
turn, turn the wheelwright,
boom, boom,
pound from a great height,
let God show his might
zoom, zoom.
Let it rain at night
and dazzle the white
plumed womb.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#147 HEROIC COUPLET

5-7-98


The largest things are larger than the sun,
the moon, the stars. The cosmos sings in fun

of nothing, void, of emptiness, of fear.
Be cautious, careful, sensitive like deer.

Run swift, run nimble, hide in clear blue air.
In space is vastness, darkness, no one there.

Re-think the little things like you and me.
Forget the clouds, the rain. Let sunshine be.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#151 SHORT OCTAVE

5-10-98

Memories briefly serve
to resurrect contact
with the hidden, capacious mind.
Rushing, forgoing tact,
large landscapes wind and curve,
passionately subtract
details from the heart's beat entwined
with longing, fable, fact.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#152 ENVELOPE COUPLET

5-11-98

Light mauve surrounds the evening sky,
a grand dame marking her time to die.
With wisps of silver clouds enclosed,
horizons momentarily posed,
she illuminates horizons high
above the westward turning eye.

Beyond the mountains she'll defy
the guards of approaching inky dye,
Indigo forests, obsidian cliffs.
In the harrowing, dull obsequious shifts,
she'll lose, of course, and bargain, buy
a purple morning with her lie.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html
as well as from THE JAIPUR SEQUENCE, http://janhaag.com/PODes4Jaipur01.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#155 SICILIAN QUATRAIN II

5-14-98

The gold and glory of morning lit the world,
spinning the blue-green ball on its axis.
From dark to light and back again it hurled
enjoying its sidereal practice.

Great love was vowed and love returned until
man appeared with knife, gun and need to breed
beyond all reason, all chastening pain, to kill
the nuturing earth whose needs he neglects to heed.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#158 RUBAIYAT
5-17-98


Montezuma's pine sends candles
toward the sky and silver mantles,
sunlit, green, graceful, long needles
down to the ground where my sandals

walk upon the grass as lightly
as light upon the sky, gently
among the daisies, the cotton,
breathing brilliant air intently,

gazing toward the zenith where pine
mingles with the wind, lends the vine
monumental, noble structure,
where the cottonwood's tufts of fine

silk fly against the sky, snowflakes
of spring. Intimate the earth quakes,
as a damsel approached by vandals,
trembling lace on pines, hidden lakes.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#159 INTERLOCKING RUBAIYAT 5-18-98

The friend's departure fills me with a dread
of many things we might have left unsaid
both what we voiced, what we left in silence
on which the wild imagination fed.

In civilized, courteous compliance
each forgives the other's odd dalliance,
and fiddles with wood and dangerous fire,
incensed, longing for incense's fragrance.

For love is deep and love is strong as wire
binding each to each through the immense mire
of shattered, irreconcilable dreams
burning lifetimes of karma on the pyre.

Departure, even in love, often seems
as final as the unheard crash of beams
in ancient houses left on the homestead.
Yet, unseamed, cherishing each will write reams.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html
as well as from THE JAIPUR SEQUENCE, http://janhaag.com/PODes4Jaipur01.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#160 RUBAI

5-18-98

One's had enough experience, she cries,
with rancorous temperament, but espys
the flaw in momentary reasoning
knowing that time's wing flies and flies and flies.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html
as well as from THE JAIPUR SEQUENCE, http://janhaag.com/PODes4Jaipur01.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#161 SPENSERIAN STANZA

5-19-98

Pigmented dark, the chlorophyll rises
wayward in spring to tree tops and flower leaves,
veridian green, causing veridic crises.
The naked branches, used to winter's freeze,
must cloth themselves in blossoms though it grieves
them to hide their sturdy brown limbs, their high twigs.
They wait in shame for autumn's golden sheaves,
dancing beneath their gowns of green to gigs
created by their unwanted, leafy, musical wigs.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#163 ENGLISH MADRIGAL

5-21-98

It spins from the house tops, it will formulate
sprials predicting the wind across the sea,
like smoke in the air, your love, your great love for me.

You claim it in the open street, adumbrate
it in my closed, warm, loving arms that free.
It spins from the house tops, it will formulate
sprials predicting the wind across the sea.

Alone, forlorn, like ash upon the grate
I contemplate, the fog bound, thin grey tree
sharing its amorphous, light veil like thee.
It spins from the house tops, it will formulate
sprials predicting the wind across the sea,
like smoke in the air, your love, your great love for me.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#166 SYNONYMOUS PARALLELISM

5-24-98

There are times of despair in life, there are times of heart-felt pain,
there are times for the gnashing of teeth, times for screaming,
times for ranting and weeping, times for secluding one's self,
times to hide from the pain of life, and the pain of human beings,
times to return to the earth as a tree, as a flower that blooms and dies,
swiftly it blooms and swiftly it dies, for the time of beauty is short.
The persistence of anguish is long, the time of despair is forever.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



The above thirteen (13) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes134-166.html




The following poems were formerly posted on AOL's Poetry Boards I, II, III by the plagiarizers, NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Fred, Frederick, Fteregul, and possibly persons using other code names or pseudonyms.

The original poems, with correct titles, dates, epigraphs and epilogues are here reposted by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with the permission of their author, Jan Haag.

The numbers from #i to #xv and from #1 to #336 within The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH collection refer to the order in which I wrote the poems.

Jan Haag
janhaag.com
September 21, 2001


The following (16) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html


#168 HEROIC SESTET II

5-26-98

To sounds of fragile, breaking ice resound
the deep currents that flow beneath the sea,
drumbeats from the heart of liquid earth floating free.
Where else can be found, a sound more deep, profound
than cool tears from the clouds, cold, ice-blue, pure blood
from rivers, their crystalized love melting in flood.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#169 SICILIAN SESTET III

5-27-98

The theater is a place for showing
sweet life as it was meant to be before
dear death doth take us to the grave wailing
because of having to endure the lore
we applauded in the theater ring:
tragedies, so called heros, and the bore.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#170 COMMON OCTAVE

5-28-98

The rain has gone, the sun has come.
Full, heavy, grow the leaves.
The flowers fall, their scent dispersed
from brooding great dark trees.
Beware when walking lightly from
the sun into the seas.
Go slowly, carefully, immersed
in song and gentle ease.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#179 HEROIC OCTAVE in Sicilian & Italian Quatrains

6-2-98

Up rises the sun, to its vocational
duty. Did it have a choice in beauty's test?
It's glory shines for the recessional
just before night when the earth darkens for rest --
shining red, gold, incandescent in the west
Still, they say its time is conditional,
and from its view we are peripheral,
our view of its beauty, a temporary jest.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#180 SYNTHETIC PARALLELISM in CLASSICAL PENTAMETER

6-3-98

Black is the bird which stays high, black in the sun as it sets.
Gold it will drop from its wings, gold you can catch from the light.

Day falls to dark and regrets. Flight is eternal delight
past the moon's silver respite. Egrets arise in the dawn.

Egrets in passionate white, pawning the sun with their wings
light on the marsh where fish sing, spawning mosquitoes in rings.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#181 ANTITHETICAL PARALLELISM

6-4-98

I am happy, yet my heart remembers the pain.
I sing for joy, yet my heart cries in sorrow.
I climb the unsullied top of the towering hill,
yet my feet slog through the deep mud of despair.
When will the time of hurt and of weeping be past?
When will the tears of happiness last to water
the land and the forests, the flowers, the hills forever?

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#182 CLIMACTIC PARALLELISM

6-5-98

Spring -- that begins with little buds
wintering over, pushes up the crocuses,
persuades the snowdrops to bloom and die,
suns the daffodils into flower, the tulips --
O Spring -- in the cascades of the cherry's
pink and white, in the plum's plume,
in apple's blush, white and scarlet --

Spring O Spring -- that blows the rhododendron's trumpets,
the azalea's horn -- when do you announce
your Summer retirement? With the accumulation
of the darkening leaves, the chlorophyll
canopies overhead, dark as winter, black as a storm
beneath the shade that blots the sun? Silent.
Seattle Summer.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#183a HEROICS, Heroic Stanzas, Heroic Quatrain

6-6-98

I study the muqarnas, and Fatehpur Sikri,
the Alhambra and the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia
named, as my mother was named, for wisdom. I
contemplate Hajj to the Kaaba, the qibla walls,
dance with the Sufi, take my turn at whirling,
walk across the desert footsteps
made by the silk traders, and their camels --
tin tin na / dhin na / dhin na.

Deep in the heart of my desolation -- while
I dwell in the rectangular earth dining
on dates, drying out figs, sweetening my coffee
with the morning music of the Qu'ran,
with the muezzin's call from the minaret --
I find the grid, the structure of the pattern,
the geometry in the light, whether of rugs
or squinches, pendentives or arches supporting

the Dome of the Rock. Knocking my head like a Jew
against the mihrab, beheading goats
with the Hindu Nepalese, chanting ten thousand strong
with Tibetan Buddhists in the Himalayas
(the mountains were moved), embracing Shiva
on the charnel ground, Kali with her skulls, Christ,
bloody on the cross, I study. Muqarnas
decorate and support, the design in the rug's pattern

encodes the wisdom of the guru
the ayatolla, the sage. It's key unlocks
the gate of heaven. As the tumblers fall,
the shuttle flies across my loom, my needle
stitches. Shakti awakes. I begin
my pilgrimage to Mecca in the darkness
of my heart where the sun, now setting, turns all wisdom
to black figures against the blazing light.

They walk on shafts of gold out from the garden
into the heaven of illumination.
The brain is electricity,
the heart, a galaxy beyond galaxies.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#191 SEPTENARY

6-14-98

O sweet, Devayani, think not of love today. Winter has come,
the naked boughs have given up their colors of scarlet and green.
Refreshment lies at the end of the tongue, and the stratified hum
of memory. Things that have been, and gloriously gone, are seen
only through glass, only through the gem of solitude's gentle
grace, where the bones go slow, the tips of the fingers settle
for sight's old role, and the days fall like spring's last fragrant petal.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html
as well as from THE DEVAYANI POEMS, http://janhaag.com/POdevayanipoemsindex.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#193 PRIMER COUPLET

6-16-98

Up in the morning
Smile without warning

Bright as the sun
Until day is done

Shine like the moon
Not unlike the loon

Deep in the night
Do not take fright

The nightingale rails
And the dream boat sails

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#194 SAPPHIC LINE

6-17-98

Jonquil came to me in a dream of fragrance
like the spring: fresh, young as the rain that falls free
from the sunshine sky. With her bobbing head held

high to catch the wind in its pure unscented
dash across the land, choosing her life so wet, wild,
yellow, prototype for the sun. Ah how brief

stays the sun in orbit among the lasting
stars, the black night, empty, eternal space, not
fully born, and not yet allowed to darken.

Hued like Jonquil's hair, does it gain with age or
death? When will we know and/or cease to long for
answers filamented as fine as frayed threads.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#195 TRIAD II, TERCET II, or THIRTEENER + THREE
One Poem In Three Forms

6-17-98

TRIAD II



Freeway Park
Fountain Thundering
Blue-Black Pigeon
In the Sand
Wings at Point
Tail at Rest
Head Down
Asleep
Forever

Jan Haag



TERCET II



Freeway Park
Fountain thundering
Blue-black pigeon

In the sand
Wings at point
Tail at rest

Head down
Asleep
Forever

Jan Haag



THIRTEENER + THREE



In Freeway Park, fountain thundering, blue-black pigeon
in the sand, wings at point, tail at rest, head down asleep,
forever.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#196 ENCLOSED TERCET/TRIPLET

6-18-98

Did the pigeon die upon her nest? I
could not touch her, would not move her from her
rest -- black back feathers ruffled white by a fly.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#199 NASHERS

6-20-98

Medical man is busy in the business of creating diseases.
What was overwork, upchucking, boredom, greed, and sneezes,

became dangerous Latinate malaises: hypertension, bulimia,
CFS, AIDS, stress: multitudinous doctor-induced anxietia --

all symptoms essential to sustain the doctor's yacht
especially if you don't mind your good sense being bought

or health insurance to build high-rises,
and pay for medically induced big prizes.

So, rather than relax, rest more, take a walk, eat less,
patient man agrees he's a difficult-to-cure, complex mess,

gobbling pills and submitting to incisions
quite incapable of making sane decisions,

certainly never resting with his wealth, always needing more,
while practicing acephalo-acardiensis upon the poor at the door.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



The above sixteen (16) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html




The following poems were formerly posted on AOL's Poetry Boards I, II, III by the plagiarizers, NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Fred, Frederick, Fteregul, and possibly persons using other code names or pseudonyms.

The original poems, with correct titles, dates, epigraphs and epilogues are here reposted by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with the permission of their author, Jan Haag.

The numbers from #i to #xv and from #1 to #336 within The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH collection refer to the order in which I wrote the poems.

Jan Haag
janhaag.com
September 21, 2001


The following four (4) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes200-233.html


#201 SKELTONICS

6-22-98

Death is quite certain
so pull the curtain.
Rein in your lust
as we discussed.
"Tie on a halo
around your silo.
Put grain in the bag
and consider a shag
rug for sleeping on
when I've gone,"
said Mumtaz Mahal
who gave more than all
for Jahan's Taj Mahal
at the fourteenth bawl.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes200-233.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#203 TANKA COUPLET

6-24-98

The glittering silk
falls in waves from her shoulder,
a great froth of red.

The gold sunset grows later.
Roses uncloth their stamen.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes200-233.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#204 SHORT COUPLET II

6-24-98

Jaipur glows as India's pink town
built upon the desert like a gown,

glittering red and orange, rose, white,
gold walls painted for the Brits with light

mocking, gentle laughter -- magic
lantern of colonial, tragic

misconceptions. Here stood Machivell,
Ram Singh, outwitting British hell.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes200-233.html
as well as from THE JAIPUR SEQUENCE, http://janhaag.com/PODes4Jaipur01.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#205 MONODY

6-25-98

One year ago today my father died.
I see him still, thin as a reed, mouth open
his blue eyes closed. Betty hands me his ring.

The Blietz people arrive, gently they lift him
into a sack. The last thing I notice
are his strong hands. "Goodbye Papa. I did wear

your emerald for a while. I speak of you
now and again. My hands are strong, my eyes
wide open and I make poems for you -- at times

green as emeralds, thin as reeds -- and bow to you
under your cherry tree flourishing near where
mother stays among the peach azaleas.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes200-233.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



The above four (4) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes167-199.html




The following poems were formerly posted on AOL's Poetry Boards I, II, III by the plagiarizers, NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Fred, Frederick, Fteregul, and possibly persons using other code names or pseudonyms.

The original poems, with correct titles, dates, epigraphs and epilogues are here reposted by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with the permission of their author, Jan Haag.

The numbers from #i to #xv and from #1 to #336 within The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH collection refer to the order in which I wrote the poems.

Jan Haag
janhaag.com
September 21, 2001


The following eight (8) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes234-266.html


#234 RANDAIGECHT CHETHARCHUBAID GARIT RECOMARCACH

7-20-98

Glorious
shining light notorious
shine down upon me today.
Just one ray is glorious!

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes234-266.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#244 BOB AND WHEEL

7-30-98

Afloat and free
I wandered through the nights
quite glad to laugh at tea
and foolish little rites
invented from the sea,

afloat and free
I sat upon the shore
quite eager. Lend a plea
in court, repose, adore,
swim immediately

afloat and free
around the kingdom come
as if you were a bee
then sting, quite silent, hum,
then quickly run and flee.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes234-266.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#253 ABECEDARIUS

8-8-98

Appreciation for our script
Begins anew each time I write
Celestial musings of the Gods
Demarcate evolutions from
English back to Summerian.
From clay tokens to computers
Gyrating round logographics
High concept of sound equal graph.

Invented by who knows what tribe
Justly intent in absence to
Kindle the presence of their thought,
Lace horizons with their visions.
Mantras welled up from Sanskrit's sound.
Notations carved deep into stone
Open the sanctuary of
Past worlds and civilizations,

Quelling curiosity's quick
Rush on speculation's great need,
Sacred, secular and divine,
To explain sky, sun, star and earth.
Urumqui, furtherest from all
Views of every ocean, yet writes
With scripts quite as elegantly
Xeroxable as any of

Younger lineage since zero and
Zen reduced time to trivia.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes234-266.html
as well as from the WRITING SYSTEMS SEQUENCE, http://janhaag.com/PODes4Writing.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#254 IROHA MOJIGUSARI

8-9-98

Alphabetically we may daub
beautiful words Asiatic,
common words far from the ice cold
domains far to the north, crunode

East and West together, rebuff
foreign epithets, and gambling
great masses of high sounding truth,
hieratic declensions, pi

irridescent, devotion's Hajj,
jocular meanings and quick lock
kinetics, replace parallel
languages fused tightly like gum,

monitered by no one, not Han
nor Hun nor Jain nor Latino --
orthographically a gap.
People even in new Iraq,

quinquangular plus, must refer
relatively frequently sans
summations qualified, latent,
turgid, to redolent Urdu.

Uighur is gone, but Turkish rev
virtually produced mellow
worlds, secret hieracosphinx,
Xerxes' alphabet's sorcery.

Yoga, they say, means union's buzz,
Zen's truth, aphonic-phobia.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes234-266.html
as well as from the WRITING SYSTEMS SEQUENCE, http://janhaag.com/PODes4Writing.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#260 SHAKESPEARIAN SONNET

8-18-98

When having lived this long into old age,
I miss my keys, I miss the lock, I wish
for nothing but the promise of bed and page,
and even page I can do without while I fish
for light, a glimmer of reason, while I stumble
over shoe and chair and spotted clothes
wondering why the objects of my life still bumble,
have never learned elementary repose,
and my thoughts, like the chaos all about,
turn more and more to grave good humor's role
where just not minding the bewilderment helps rout
the inroads of time that must take its toll
for things you thought you still could do decline,
and its quite witless to sit about and pine.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes234-266.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#261 ODE III (Keats)

8-19/20/21-98


Within the mountain's stoney quietness
you slowly beat out the regime of Time
and space and longing love. You who express
the laws of light and darkness, rhythmn, rhyme,
who decrees the quarks and prairie's gyving shape,
you who reign over space, through silence, both
in volcano's birth, fault's wait, Arcady
calm, you who are greatness and yet quite loath
to placate man, to let your heart escape
into tenderness, waylay ecstasy,

gyrating violence, clashings still unheard,
who, as Narcisuss, love your breath, the on
going drama, your coming death, endeared
by your reflection in the smell, the tone
of blossom and decay, of meet and poignant leave
taking across the specturm of time, of bare
and barren earth will kneel, perhaps, to kiss
at last, and nod your ravaged visage, grieve,
acknowledge the disolution of primal bliss
when you stand alone in offal, in fair

disgrace, unaccompanied, treading the shed
where you kept your chattel. O bid adieu,
O God, test, now test soon, Time's yet unwearied
waltz, sirening through eternal night and new
flickering moons, eon upon eon seeking love,
justification to live beyond, but enjoyed
alone in self worship. Change soon, be young
again, be lonely, longing and grasp above,
around, within, find Shakti, left cloyed,
abandoned, without speech without tongue.

Remark her passion, remark her sacrifice,
stand bold with the stars and become high priest,
as once you were, bright in the triumphing skies
humbled, forlorn with love. Be lightly drest
bridegroom to the roar and froth of the sea-shore
foam and phosphorescence. Build the citadel
to capture the sunshine of earth's early morn,
explore the possibilities evermore
radiantly revealed, dug from the tell,
preserved in amber, awaiting your return.

Loose your tight bound lengthy hair, undo your brede,
untwist, unravel your intricate, overwrought
master plan surfeit with flowers, abundant weed,
intertwining, untwining, fruitless thought,
with much too much to mock the pastoral
promise, the hopes eaten by bugs, the waste
the disease, the want, the round-robin, the woe,
the arrogant plan, to which thou say'st,
against given senses, the witless all:
"Ye know on earth all ye need to know."

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes234-266.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission

Note: NS et al, separated the fifth stanza of the above poem and posted it on AOL as a separate poem, calling it Ode II (Keatsian).


#262 ENVELOPE SONNET I

8-19-98

The ordinary blankness of being transcends
mountains, horizons, creations, so they say.
Consciousness was lent us, enfolded in grey
convolutions, synapses, a mind that defends
against no challengers our premier place
to rearrange the universe: re-design,
re-nature, re-assemble the pieces, the fine-
tuned, spider-strong ecological lace.
Up the invisible spider-thread the inchworms climb.
Can they spin? Can they weave? Alone in air it sways,
pathless, fine, the filament of ascent,
the Tao divine, dubbed by man, sublime.
Attached to nothing, undisturbed by Coriolis waves,
blind, beyond being, the inchworms go, without dissent.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes234-266.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#263 ENVELOPE SONNET II

8-21-98

The extraordinary awareness of being finds
consolation in intermittent sight,
transcendence of what, in anguished hope, might
be thought evidence that completely binds
mankind to humankind, fraught with compassion
fouled by true love, entangled, begrudged, ensnarled
like birds' grass nests hidden in ancient gnarled
trees of which development makes fashion
statements about the beauty of ugly houses,
about the richness of barren little lives,
the necessites anxiety rouses
like angry, stinging bees swarming their hives
convinced that the red rose in the wind blouses,
thrives, jives because it drives, strives and contrives.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes234-266.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



The above eight (8) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes234-266.html




The following poems were formerly posted on AOL's Poetry Boards I, II, III by the plagiarizers, NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Fred, Frederick, Fteregul, and possibly persons using other code names or pseudonyms.

The original poems, with correct titles, dates, epigraphs and epilogues are here reposted by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with the permission of their author, Jan Haag.

The numbers from #i to #xv and from #1 to #336 within The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH collection refer to the order in which I wrote the poems.

Jan Haag
janhaag.com
September 21, 2001


The following two (2) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes267-299.html


#288 IAMBIC TETRAMETER QUATRAINS (after Marlowe, Ralegh, Donne)

9-25-98

DEVAYANI,



Come live with me, and be my love,
and we will outside pleasures move
to golden lands and sacred nooks
which seem alive, but just in books.

There will we honor hope and the sun,
bright evening light, maybe what's done
in flame like the red of sunset's ray
fending the cold, while fish delay.

Surface world's yet do play God's wrath
though brooks are still beside the path
where birds are mute and silence grim,
luteless, you hide behind the scrim.

Do not from me conceal crimes both
of nature's angels, Gods who loath
offenses washed by laws, or sea
through which life swims free, fine,sans fee.

Among the weeds, reprieve re-seeds;
a veil to all its pow'r impedes
the opiate, opalescent debt
and treacherous deceit, black as jet.

With breath comes death, eternal rest;
the greeds do die, and are confessed
as curious traitors lying cries
for those too shy with guested sighs,

Come be with me, I am your gate
beyond, beneath, by which bleeds fate,
all glory moves before my eye,
my love, my sacred wise one, I.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes267-299.html
as well as from A QUATRAIN QUARTET, http://janhaag.com/PODes288Quartet.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#298 GEORGICS

10-12-98


I saw a Nova last night about Andrew Wiles'
proof of Fermat's Last Theorem. It began in smiles

and moved quickly to tears -- Wiles' tears followed aptly
by my own, for it celebrated a wily

illumination of the mind, the frequently
unutterable joy -- profoundest joy to see

ideas in air manifest, take shape, like Bohm's
visions of implicate order -- a metronome

ticking, the analogy of music, lighting
the darkness of an empty room, slowly pushing

away the shadows, bit by slow bit, single, tiny
calculations, one after the other, piney

scented hints from the natural world, walks along
the river, the path of sunlight and faith, belong

with the giggle of the childhood dream: he would solve
the unsolvable. Persistently to revolve

for seven secret years the implosion of his
heart's desire, the exploding, almost static fizz

of concentration, attention, meditation,
focus, was his infinite, sole delight. To shun

even a hint to the world of his projected
goal, sustained him. Working in sunlight, he was led

through here-to-fore unexplored corridors of mind,
linking and testing, guessing, pondering to find

the Tao. And he did. Through hesitant steps, narrow
misses, bird-walks, wrong turns, false whispers from sparrow

similarities. Ah yes, and then one day... You must see
the Nova to see bliss, the unique joy to be

that suffuses his human form in his God-like,
solitary, climb to resplendence, a fragile dike

against the stress of being human, strife enmeshed,
sorrow imbued, struggling with flesh, at once refreshed:

*"The Gods have received from the human mind, the gift
of the power to create...."

Jan Haag
*Paul Valery

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes267-299.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



The above two (2) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes267-299.html




The following poems were formerly posted on AOL's Poetry Boards I, II, III by the plagiarizers, NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Fred, Frederick, Fteregul, and possibly persons using other code names or pseudonyms.

The original poems, with correct titles, dates, epigraphs and epilogues are here reposted by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with the permission of their author, Jan Haag.

The numbers from #i to #xv and from #1 to #336 within The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH collection refer to the order in which I wrote the poems.

Jan Haag
janhaag.com
September 21, 2001


The following three (3) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes300-333.html


#308 LAMENT

10-27-98


I do understand the rage of God
and the wail in the wind,
the cyclone of hopes and desires
swept up like fallen leaves.

The soul breathes in depth and the wild whirl
of the winds and the leaves
and the spirals of colors, yellow
crimson and gold, bright green.

No one can cling before the wind of
calamity's swift boon.
There will be rage and there will be deep
sparkling peace from the chill --

and warmth to warn you that ease will come
soon, lead you among bare
branches, tall, platinum grass grown brown,
great lilies trampled down.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes300-333.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#310 ELEGY

10-29/31-98

Who'd have thought that, skimming along in the kissing sun
in a blue convertible listening to "Lemon tree
very prretty," would lie in your memory as youth
in the Angel's wide blue-skyed City, epitomized.

As you stand aging on earth less affected by gravity
like an astronaut, losing muscle mass and bone marrow, filled
with a bubbling mirth for man's "achievements," you know you will soon
drift off -- tumbling through black space's depth to immortality.

Lightly dancing among stars, along lemon-colored
sun beams bodilessness's gift, O Devayani,
will be yours, and comprehensive thoughts about all that
was will dissolve, lose their leaden goalish importance.

But for now, think of the charm of the dawn at Varanasi,
think of the red rising sun, the drift of the river and song,
women in their veils in their saris pacing against the flow
of corpse strewn Ganges, past magical towers built of human whim.

Stare into the sun's rising beams fingering their way
across the sand, the empty sand, the ancient wisdom,
its flood plain gift from the builders of Varanasi --
Stand with gravity. Jump the lightening bonds of life.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes300-333.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#312 DIRGE in Fourteeners

11-5/7-98

The sun reincarnates in the leaves of a rainy fall
like a lover's last embrace scorning death's new arrival.

Blood red is the Acer palmatum awaiting spring's brawl,
verging round necrophilia, dropping her verdant shawl.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes300-333.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



The above three (3) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes300-333.html




The following poems were formerly posted on AOL's Poetry Boards I, II, III by the plagiarizers, NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Fred, Frederick, Fteregul, and possibly persons using other code names or pseudonyms.

The original poems, with correct titles, dates, epigraphs and epilogues are here reposted by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with the permission of their author, Jan Haag.

The numbers from #i to #xv and from #1 to #336 within The Desolation Poems/POETIC FORMS USED IN ENGLISH collection refer to the order in which I wrote the poems.

Jan Haag
janhaag.com
September 21, 2001


The following three (2) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes334-366html


#334 CORONACH

KOSOVO



4-14/15-99

Haunted by bad thoughts
and peculiar memories
blood breaking
out in spots
on the inside of arms
on the outside of legs
bleeding externally
and internally

a shimmering peacock
a peahen in pain
fearing each feather's
mockery shrouding
impregnation
bad thoughts
peculiar memories
terror.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes334-366.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#336 EPIC

MY NOVEL

5-29-99/2-3-01

The purple-brown-black-copper-colored leaves of the plum,
the scent of the lilacs...
the young girl in white, without shoes, racing uphill,
a couple, her light skirt over tights, strolling...
people standing
without nattering impatiently
while the frail old ones
-- of which I am one --
slowly-s l o w l y board the bus,
the gnarled mechanic, blue-jeaned from neck to ankle,
with bright red socks in Birkenstocks:
these are my world
my novel
I cannot stitch them together.
Why must I write?
Born an American,
I am too restless
even on the brink of eternity
to just wander,
enjoy.
I am compelled
to do
something.

Therefore,
I write this novel
bridging nothing,
containing elements,
only elements:
zinc, sulphur, copper,
plutonium
fused together
by an eye,
by the ecstasy of being
in the sunshine
beneath the
roiling drift of the cottonwood's cotton:
turbulent stars
against the brilliance.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PODes334-366.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



The above two (2) poems are reposted from By Jan Haag, http://janhaag.com/PODes334-366.html




The collections By Jan Haag from which the plagiarizers, NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Frederick, Fred, FTeregul, and possibly persons using other code names and other pseudonyms reposted poems include: INSPIRED BY RUMI, THE SEPTEMBER POEMS, BIRDS MIGRATE AT NIGHT, 26 OF THE 2001 POEMS, and 33 OF THE 2001 POEMS. In addition NS et al plagiarized LET'S LOOK AT THE OLD FILMS OF INDIA, a poem represented in four of the By Jan Haag collections: THE DEVAYANI POEMS, POEMS ABOUT DEATH, ARCHITECTURE AND ARCHAEOLOGY POEMS and THE JAIPUR SEQUENCE.

The original versions, with their original titles, of each of the poems plagiarized by NS et al from these collections are posted below by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission.


Two (2) poems from INSPIRED BY RUMI



THOUGHT

1-9-98

Thought and the time to do it in
are rare commodites
in the age of the
automobile.

Thought and the time to do it in
are elusive qualities
in the age of
television

Thought and the time to do it in
are strange abberations
in the age of the
propragation

of mass anxiety, misplaced hysteria
induced by speed and the
media: coercions as
potent as

thought-police, as the dropping of hydrogen
bombs, the genocide of nations.
Free speech in a land
heard

but not acted upon is annihilation of
thought and the time to do it in.
On the other hand, tragedy,
subsequent

suffering, anguish of mind, of spirit can lead
to consciousness which can, if
we're lucky, lead to
compassion

and a compensatory lack of thought, of reason
-- which drives the world quite mad,
creature against creature,
for all excellent
reasons.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/POinspiredbyrumi.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



EVERY HUMAN

1-12-98

goes to sleep and wakes
to each day under the canopy
of the sky in the darkness and in
the light. Do the bears that hibernate
sleep each night before the long sleep? Is
it a quantity of sleep we need? Or rest from
the strangeness, beauty and hardship of the day?
If the stars were not there, would we be more alone
than we are now? Did God so limit the world that we were
created only once? Living inside our atmosphere going round
and round, not really aware of the elliptical journey, not aware
of being upsidedown beneath the canopy. There is no up and no down
in space. Why is it that an egg crashes to the ground splashing yellow
and gel? If Devayani asked enough questions, would you answer? Under the
umbrella of rank or rain every human rests, and at one time or another thinks
of the stars and the empty spaces between the galaxies, and decides on a space-walk
alone,
little,
humble,
beneath
terror,
space,
time,
fear,
joy,
and
laughter
like a lamp
held up against
night sky, stars, hope.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/POinspiredbyrumi.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



Three (3) poems from THE SEPTEMBER POEMS (Inspired by The 1933 Century Dictionary)



(#F) FIREBRAND

9-6-99

I rushed "with the stick, flaming in my hand"* --
the flame of life, the stick I expected to bloom
magnolias, sweet and lemony scented,
but found, instead, gloom.

The firebrand lit nothing but strife,
inflamed no passions but my own loom
of bewildered cruelties and night-time frights,
an ocean of feathery spume

that whirled and whirled and whirled
caught in the dying tomb
of the green lake's trees which, having lived
a hundred years, now find no room

in the city-blight of the can-do heart.
Human desire stresses
the environment -- living and dying,
simple actions -- for which no one dresses.

Weep, heart, weep.
How much can you miss those trees?


*From Defoe's "Robinson Crusoe" as quoted p.575, Century Dictionary, 1933

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/POSept01-30.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



(#I) INTEND

9-9-99

I intend to chant when I have a chance
beneath the cerulean sea,
a mermaid, tangle-haired, fish-hipped,
glittering scales about the knee.

I intend to dive deep below the tectonic plates
subsiding, turning their key
elbowing the land to rear high mountains
which, down below, will bury me.

Beneath the coral tendrils, kelp bulbs,
sodden ash, in green-washed light I'll be.
Listen for the sirens' sighs, the soughing
of the tidal winds. I'll charge no fee --

but come, come chant with me, come
no further than the edge of the sea, we'll
thrum the Vedas to the earth's hum,
susurrus of the Dharma's wheel

hand-turned by mermaids.
By me?

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/POSept01-30.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



(#V) VERSION

9-22-99

"Vers Libre -- Free verse; verse unhampered by fixed metrical forms, in extreme instances
consisting of little more than rhythmical prose arranged in lines of irregular length."
p. 2140, Century Dictionary, 1933

My version of the poetic language of the O silent universe comes right up
through my waverly green socks, firmly planted on the Oriental ground.
Oooh where do you get your rhythms? Where do you get your rhymes?
Down from the hair follicles, up from the groin, from beneath the hound

snapping at Achilles' heel in that one, rare, catchable moment,
when the brain rests in side-focus, and synapses, undrowned,
slosh round in the language of syntax and humanary meaning,
then up from the toes, with roses chirrupping gaily, unbound,

rewound, lyrically and lisping, my poet, my muse, no longer concealing
feeling unguessable, dimensionless, blue, lets forth magic soarable sound
and it's a matter of writing it down or writing it up in the sky or out on a
limb where it can abound, fly a fugitive flag, accrue, overflow, redound,

and float out to sea in a small pound ship, away from quays and
keys, beyond great vast mounds of honey bees, where all lees lie
low drowning in wine, passing for blood, passing for soul syrup
where nothing else but intent was meant to mix with one's sigh:

Is it vers libre
or a version?

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/POSept01-30.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



Two (2) poems from BIRDS MIGRATE AT NIGHT


BIRDS MIGRATE AT NIGHT IV

10-17-99
For June Wayne


Archaeopteryx, perhaps you didn't
migrate at all. Found only in the limestone
of Solnhofen, smaller than a crow,
we can't even tell if you
flew.

We can't tell who created you.
Hop along the life-line, link by link.
Dig up clues in the chinks
gouged by lithographic stones
flying

to record, the eye's precision
and the hand's talent,
to exhume the connection
between the seed and the womb
flown

through color and subtlety,
etched, flooded with ink,
pressed, pressed as that
ancient bird, caught, did not
fly

again, but steadfast,
since the Jurassic, waited
to be quarried, queried,
read into the record before we
flee.

Archaeopteryx,
clue along the highway, flyway,
corridor,
such is the history of
flight.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PObirds.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



BIRDS MIGRATE AT NIGHT V

6-24-00
For Lenore Tawney


Was she bird-like?
     She was small,
           almost dwarfish,
                        quick,
                            smart,
                                quiet.
                                     Soaring 
                                          high, 
                                               she lived   
                                                      in rain clouds        
                                                                 in
secret
                                                             drawers 
                                                     of the heart,
                                           in vast strings, 
                                        geometric,
                       sorted out, pulled taut.
                  she dwelt at crossings.
             migrated through storms


with
stones
in her beak,
white stones,
polished stones,
curious carved artifacts,
bleached and studied bones.
Her small tough wings penetrated
the roiling density of thunderheads.

As a child, she invented: migrations
of the heart, of the soul, of the body.

Now, she pirouetted toward death,
feeling with her fingertips, having sent
her eyes to explore the darkest warmth
-- friendly, welcoming, waiting -- willing
to wait for years for illumination,
to migrate, bird-like,
at night

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PObirds.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



Two (2) poems from 26 OF THE 2001 POEMS



#14 THE ROOM

02-07-01

The room exudes ice. Where does the wind come from?
Incinerate more paper in the fireplace,
along with alley-scavenged
wood, old poems and the Sunday funnies.

My life is lit with intermittent hope-flares, despair won from
the tug-of-warring in human heart precisely placed
between savaged, scavenged
hope-ropes, diurnal miscalculations, sullen, livid laughter funnier

than snow or wind or ice or the reality from
hunger, the pain of plain displacement
or any scavenged
fallen-from-grace on-this-planed planet earth. Think it funny!

Die for your convictions in an icy room where, from
lack of hope, you have chosen
loneliness sansdespair,
incineration among scavenged poems and funny papers.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2001 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PO2001.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



#16 WEATHER DRIVE

02-08/09-01

Intense in Seattle's night, the wind blows, the hail falls.
Anger rises from strain and discomfort
simmers all around.
It's easy to analyze after the fact,

but who created the snow flake? The relentless variety falls
through the frigid night bringing discomfort
to the limited mind.
Why such prodigious varieties of beauty unseeable

to the eye, unthinkable to the intellect watching the fall?
Then dizzied by oleander's scentless discomfort,
its embarrassing multiplicity,
humble in its pinkish bloomings, outrageous profligacy

along the California night highway drifting through sand/snow falls
of clicking flakes fraught with discomfort
in the windless
sky, through a pale dawn misting over.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2001 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PO2001.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission



One (1) poem from 33 OF THE 2001 POEMS



#01 POSSESSION

02-12-01

Struggling to identify what's changed,
I realize that I may have done
what I'm going to do.
The knowledge grows.
Have I written my last?
-- as, beyond Allan,
faith in love was lost,

as, leaving Hollywood, I knew
my desire to make films suffered killing,
so now, with memory's loss,
another giving up
of plans, hopes, dreams, visions
a giving in
to the sway of life:

moving on, no longer paying
attention to intentions. I'd give up my
life sooner than be without
a writer's addiction.
What remains inexpressible, wordless, undescribed
is substanceless, each,
moment a death to me.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2001 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/PO2001-2.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission




The last poem on this list of one-hundred-sixteen (116) poems plagiarized by NS et al, was written as a Devayani Poem, but it is also included in three other collections By Jan Haag on janhaag.com


THE DEVAYANI POEMS, THE JAIPUR SEQUENCE.
ARCHITECTURE AND ARCHAEOLOGY POEMS, POEMS ABOUT DEATH



LET'S LOOK AT THE OLD FILMS OF INDIA

(12-18-97)

again.
It's the common man you're interested in,
the one in the street,
living under a blanket,
a sheet of paper,

almost naked,
in his laundered white
dhoti,
wrapped between his legs,
clean, even in the stench of India.

It's the common man,
jostled and jostling in the streets,
smoking on the steps,
enervated by the heat.
O Devayani,
it's the common human being
that interests you.

What have they got to say for life,
for God, for the love of being alive?
Even the children's eyes have
that deep black look
of millennia of pain,
the knowledge of eons,
the patience of the earth
and the rains.

Eating, sleeping --
where do they sleep?
Patience.
Note, O Devayani, they sleep
where they are.
Fortunate people,
turned back
to the mother bosom.
Even on concrete put down
by the English, they sleep on
their mother's breast,

familiar with smells and bugs,
and rats, perhaps, like hot
winds across their face
in the night,
next to the earth,
next to what the cow has eaten
and returned to the earth,
next to the cow,

the goat, perhaps on the ridge
between the rice fields
if lucky enough to be in the country
-- home -- where their land is.
They squat, and live.
They moan, too, you can hear them
sometimes in the night,
absorbing the death, the tragedy,
the pain,

eager for the sun to rise,
to go on being,
being.
Finding something to eat,
someplace to sleep,
shitting.

And grinning! high laughter,
eager curiosity,
intent on the study of their fellow
creatures, scratching.

O Devayani, did anyone ever get rich
and move closer to his fellow man?
You envy their aplomb
with the earth, and the earth's gifts
of food and filth,
hot and cold,
sun and the monsoon rains coming down,
pounding on the naked shoulder
turned to the sky in the night,
covered with one large leaf.

The leaves grow very large in India,
you can eat from them
or sleep under them.
Let's look at the old films of India again.

Let's Look At The Old Films of India,
not for the maharajahs with their jewels
and their elephants.
(It's an odd intention to get rich enough to be
rocked about, dangerously,
in a howdah on the back
of the largest beast on earth.)
How little interest you have
in their turbans, their silks,
their wrapped legs, and the
be-diamonded lips of their wives.
They are elegant, and far from the earth.

They use a stairway, Devayani, to climb
an elephant, to go higher and higher winding around emptiness
to the palace roof.
Do the common people mind --
the roofs and the ladders so far beyond their means?
Do they mind the unlikeliness of climbing even a foot from
the bald, littered earth?
(How odd that some should want so much

and others have so little.) But India,
unchanged for 5,000 years, didn't seem to mind.
The yields of the earth were often meager,
the squandering of millions by their rulers
in golden food and jewel paved tombs
often seemed food enough
to the common man.
Let's look at the old films of India again.

Will a refrigerator, a car answer
the millennial knowledge in the dark eyes
of the women who have suffered too much?
Will a pair of jeans
sit more comfortably at home
on their mother's sandy, rocky, corpse-strewn lap?
Life may be more about corpses
and manure

than a Westerner, O Devayani, looking at
the old films of India
might
ever imagine.

Jan Haag

Copyright 2000 Jan Haag, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reposted from janhaag.com, URL: http://janhaag.com/POletslookat.html
by AlwaysLisa@aol.com with Jan Haag's permission

LET'S LOOK AT THE OLD FILMS OF INDIA, is also indexed under:
THE DEVAYANI POEMS, http://janhaag.com/POdevayanipoemsindex.html
POEMS ABOUT DEATH, http://janhaag.com/POpoemsaboutdeathindex.html
ARCHITECTURE AND ARCHAEOLOGY POEMS, janhaag.com/POarchitectureindex.html
THE JAIPUR SEQUENCE, http://janhaag.com/PODes4Jaipur01.html#let


The above twelve (12) poems from the collections: INSPIRED BY RUMI, THE SEPTEMBER POEMS, BIRDS MIGRATE AT NIGHT, 26 OF THE 2001 POEMS, 33 OF THE 2001 POEMS, THE DEVAYANI POEMS, POEMS ABOUT DEATH, ARCHITECTURE AND ARCHAEOLOGY POEMS, and THE JAIPUR SEQUENCE are reposted from janhaag.com, By Jan Haag at the URL's noted.



I understand from AlwaysLisa@aol.com, SyrenaVars@aol.com and HEBAnnie@aol.com who brought this plagiarizing by NS et al and reposting on AOL of my poems to my attention, that there might have been more than the one-hundred-sixteen (116) poems posted above. I do not know how many.

And, since NS et al have also been steadily plagiarizing from at least six other poets, please be conscious that whenever or wherever you see their names or code names that what they post, poetry or prose, is likely to have been plagiarized.

As mentioned above, I have not yet had a response from AOL's Terms of Service or Legal Departments, but since NS et al have acted in violation of their Terms of Service contract as well as in flagrant violation of copyright law, we should see no more of NS et al (or the actual person(s) represented by these code names and names) posting anything of any kind anywhere on AOL.

If you see any of these names: NorthStar1007, Susanna, Baie, Baie d'Ange, Frederick, Fred, FTeregul or any posting by these names anywhere on AOL, please notify me at jhaag@u.washington.edu or AlwaysLisa@aol.com as well as the AOL Legal and Terms of Service Departments.

All the above material along with a fuller development of many aspects of this matter are documented on janhaag.com at http://janhaag.com/EScopyinfringbyAOLusers. html

Jan Haag
janhaag.com
September 21, 2001





Copyright © 2001 Jan Haag
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED




BY JAN HAAG


POETRY + MUSIC + ESSAYS + TRAVEL + FICTION + TEXTILE ART

INTRODUCTION + HAAG'S BIO

21st CENTURY ART, C.E. - B.C., A Context