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The mockingbird on the Buddha says, Where’s my seed,
you Jezebel, where’s the sunshine in my blue sky,
where’s the Hittite princess, Pharaoh’s temple, where’s the rain
for the misery I love so much? The mockingbird
on the Buddha scolds the tree for trying to stay straight
in the hurricane of words blowing out of the cold north,
wind like screams, night like brandy on the dark cut of my heart.
The mockingbird on the Buddha, music is his life,
he hears the tunes of the universe, cacophony of calypso,
hacking cough in the black lung of desire; he’s ruddy
with lust, that sweet stepping puffed-up old grey bird o’ mine.
The mockingbird on the Buddha says, Eat up
while the night is young. Have some peach cobbler, girl,
have some fried oysters, have some Pouligny
Montrachet, ma chere, for the night is coming, and you need meat
on your bones to ride that wild horse. The mockingbird
on the Buddha says, It’s time for a change, little missy. You’ve
been in charge too long. It’s time for the bird
to take over, because he stays up late, knows what night can be,
past twelve, past two, when trouble’s dark and beautiful.
You never knew what hit you, and that’s the best feeling
in the whole wide world. The mockingbird
on the Buddha makes his nest inside my brain: he looks good
in grey, gets fat on thought, he’s my enemy,
my Einstein, my ever-loving monkey boy, every monkey thought
I blame on him, every night so sweet my body breaks
apart like a Spanish galleon raining gold on the ocean floor.

From On the Street of Divine Love: New and Selected Poems (Pitt, 2014). Included in Vox Populi by permission of the author and the University of Pittsburgh Press.
Barbara Hamby is the author of many collections of poetry. She and her husband David Kirby edited the poetry anthology Seriously Funny. She teaches at Florida State University where she is distinguished university scholar.
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Barbara, here’s a standing ovation! Each time I see that one of your poems is published on VP, my immediate reaction is “Oh, gooood”! And I’ll get comfortable in my chair, grab my mug of Earl Gray and read the poem once in a hurry, then a few times more for the imagery, similes, alliterations & assonances, for the tongue in cheek, for the innuendos, for the joy of discovering treasures after treasures in your writing. I’m one happy old fan. For sure. Bravissimo & merci de tout coeur!
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Each poem of Barbara’s is a wonder of sound and meaning…
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Adore the mockers and adore this poem!! You have done the mockingbird justice! 🩶🤍🩶
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Barbara: You are a marvel!
I wish I could write you a poem of spectacular praise, but the site has been disappearing my words after I get things half said.
I’m ready to lie down in front of a train over you!
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My Anna Karenina!
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Well that one certainly will make me get out of bed. Love this. And since I have a large Buddha on the deck, that is what I visualize. A rollicking ride. Perfect poem for today.
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Yes, perfect.
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Oh, woa!!!!! that’s a wild ride of aliterations and images, coming together in a poem that’s hard not to read again. And again.
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Oh, yes. I’ve read the poem dozens of times and still discover surprises in it.
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I love this poem. Mockingbird on the Buddha? Perhaps a philosophy for a life well lived, and spoken. Then something strange happened. I clicked on the link to the mockingbird song visualized. The mocker was in full swing, five minutes into its song fest, when Youtube interrupted the song for a weight loss commercial. (Can’t make this stuff up). I wonder if the ad was aimed at the mockingbird, the Buddha, or the listener. Whatever, it was an artificial cherry on top of the ice cream sundae of a performance.
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Very perceptive critical response, Jim. Thank you.
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Brava, Barbara Hamby, Brava!
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