Making a Point Part II
A point has no volume, only its location
No thought or shape, leaves no vocation
Without time to help it has only position
No direction, just time’s measured admonition
No measure of velocity, matters, or purpose
It just sits there on a four-dimension surface
So now then, what’s your point?
Well my point has a thought, a view
It matters to me, if not to you
My purpose is to defend that point of view
So now, what’s the matter with you?
So, between your point and mine
You have drawn a very fine line
That presents itself in minds existence
But it lacks volume and persistence
So now then, what does your line connect
Or is it an imaginary way for you to protect
… your point of view?
OK, let’s, before we draw a fine line
Add few points to yours and mine
Points of interest moving closer together
Where maybe we agree with one another
And a new picture starts to take shape
With the points, and lines that we make
So, with your points and mine
We accomplish something in time
And maybe even teach others too
That there can be differing points of view
With wisdom exquisite and points crystal clear
We can bring us all together in a future so near
Even if this point and line require a fourth dimension
A surface bending time and space I first did mention
So that in our imagined world’s collective view
We achieve something greater between me and you
Tag Archives: Poetry
Making a point…
Making a Point
A point has no volume, only its location
No thought or shape, leaves no vocation
Without time to help it has only position
No direction, just time’s measured admonition
No measure of velocity, matters, or purpose
It just sits there on a four-dimension surface
So now then, what’s your point?
Our Time…
Our Time
The second-hand ticks relentless
The Sun traverses the sky
Seasons are alive yet senseless
To the stoplight we’ll race
As if seconds, not years matter
A moment’s win we’ll embrace
But then lose to all time
What purpose that drove us
In a moment of our mind
And time always wins
As it spreads out across space
Washing away minor sins
While it ripples forward
Goodwill, a smile, a teaching moment
As if we are driving toward
Something of greatest import
Of something that matters more
Than how in a moment we deport
Ourselves, and no minor win’s mattered
When the ripples of time do
Splash back on us, bundled and gathered
As we face the measure of our time
That define collective moments
And sweetly… hopefully they’ll finally rhyme
The Monster
The Monster
Its powerful and green
The biggest we’ve ever seen
Whining wickedly, it stops with a grind
Monster with ravenous hunger on its mind
Massive arms lift the offering provided
Best to feed the beast we’ve decided
It growls, belches and groans
Devouring the offering proffered
….. at each of our homes
For those of you that would like to know what “The Monster” is and haven’t figured it out. The answer if you read right to left is:
k c u r t e g a b r a g
St. Patrick’s Day
I’m Irish Today
It’s Sunday, it’s time to post
I have nothing to say or boast
But it’s St. Patrick’s day
And everyone’s Irish today
So, I’ll too wear green
The finest color ever seen
And keep my post simple and fun
Letting my little limerick out for a run
Maybe even find a happier hour
Allowing drinking rhymes to flower
As my thirsty mind slowly spins
Thought begins and then ends
And when I can no longer rhyme
I’ll sing in three quarter time
Nice and slow so I don’t slur
Such fine words all in a blur
For today and all the time
Seven percent of me is Irish
… and I can certainly rhyme
Progress
Progress
Sister joins brother and I so we moved. Learn new address, mom repeats to us 942 Progress. Progress was brick houses in a row, but not too much progress, field of dandelions growing across the street, but still it sprouted yellow fire hydrants. Two per block. Everything seemed bigger, the basement looked like a playground. The backyard was for playing tag. Italian family next door made wine in the basement. English family survived the war, dad with a hole in his back that was permanent reminder. Mack down the street throws baseball over the rising moon to my dad, who throws it back just as high, I only dream of being able to catch it. Meanwhile the street lights keep track of when we’d have to be home for the night. We all walked to school in the mornings and back for lunch, and back and then home during the cooler parts of the year. We played tag along the way. When the snow comes we shovel a path in the backyard to play with football, dive into snow and catch. We liked falling and catching and running. Boots for walking latched with metal clip right over school shoes. Milk in the milk chute froze one morning, and broke. Milk flows down the basement stairs. Rubber boots were fine. Mittens smelled like spoiled milk for the rest of winter. And it seemed I would sniff them every time I wore them, even tho I knew they’d still smell. But this was progress. We played, we learned, we were kids.
The Wall…
The Wall
I come from a thousand miles away
Drawn to you, so smart, energy, beauty,
To make my world, life right today
To be part of you, of all you stand for
But you put a wall up to keep me out
When all I have for you is love and adore
I know no other way, so
I’ll find a way, I’ll climb over, or go around
And find a way to stay
In your paradise, the one you’ve told me to come and see
When you said …
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free”
When your liberty stood tall
Inviting you, your family, all
But now I see and feel a wall
You use to feel safe and protected again
But what are you afraid of
Allowing another that loves you to come in?
Anticipation
Anticipation
For somethings we must wait a lifetime
Moving as we do, in not-so-straight line
Sometimes without knowing we wait
As we allow for the vagaries of fate
But knowing can be anxious, as we wait
As we think, feel, and anticipate
With hope of something great
Even if it seems a little late
Maybe even a wonderful surprise
If we allow for
the possibility of love to arise
Finding something to Say…
Chasing a Thought
If the words could be found
I’d say something profound
That would inspire heart and mind
If just that thought I could find
And it wouldn’t be this time
Some silly idea with a rhyme
But something greater, something apart
That would inspire readers
to tear the page and hold it to their heart
But no muse, no nature does inspire
Critical thought or such passion desire
That would drive my feeble pen
To share a beautiful thought from within
These two sides of my brain
No germ of idea, not a single grain
Lost forever in clouded rhyme I fear
Until there’s a thought I find dear
And those words would be found
Allowing me to say something profound
Like, simply… “love one another”
February…
February
It snows in Michigan and it just looks so mean
Arizona desert is cool in white we’ve seen
Colorado powder is great for skiing
Florida shorts and sandals, living the dream
February is shortest month of all
It needs a booster chair
…. For every fourth year
To be at the table with all the rest
It has a day for love in the middle
It has winter, spring, summer and fall
…. All in one
As it tries to compensate and claim the title of the best