Going South
Is a destination, warmer
for most of us…
Is down, because some
Europeen cartographer in the
sixteenth century decided
it is on the bottom of a map…
Is going bad if we are
speaking of my golf game…
Is a migration for winter
for geese and other waterfowl who
flock along with snow-birds…
Is where the fight for
rights was won, and lost, and
must be won again.
$17.50
In a time of an ashen world,
in a time of failure and distrust,
in a time of crashing fortunes.
With a world of depression
and a crush at banks, lives
on a brink of distress and fear.
A wonderful world of reason
to live in this wonderful world.
A widow says seventeen dollars
and fifty cents will tie me over.
A point of courage and grace,
before a war would further
delay and destroy lives,
this indomitable spirit
carries on into the ones
who we need to rely on
and they must not fail.
And they would,
but for the sake of angels,
who show them the worth
and value of who they are.
As we seek our own angels
in those that keep us
grounded in the good we are,
in the part we know we need,
in wings that embrace us,
for the world that awaits us.
And asking for only $17.50.
Nothing Normal
About these strange times
and indescribable crimes
of division and peace omission,
conspiracies and commission
of traitorous acts and lies
as our Lady Liberty sighs
at the acts of destruction
and notorious construction
of division that endangers
many millions, and angers
all who love freedom and peace
all who wish for some release
from the sorrow of those who died
because of belief in those who lied.
We are Resilient
We are strong descendents of ancestors
who survived much worse to get us here
to get us to another trial of global proportions.
We are undefeated, and we have new tools
we have a will to live, a will to be ancestors
to those that will come, and they too will
celebrate Christ’s birth, and His miracle
of God living among us, and loving us.
Because despite the tests that come our way,
we will continue to bring love to each other,
we will continue to be what we can be,
and together when we can be… Always resilient!
Merry Christmas, let’s rejoice always!
Painter and Poet
A painter has his paint
to obscure or reveal,
a bird maybe flying by
chased by a larger bird
and no one may notice
there once was a butterfly
A poet has his words
to obscure or reveal,
a bird maybe in his thoughts
and yet a butterfly may appear
and no one may notice
this was not about a butterfly
And Yet No Name
Just a storm with deadly as a handle.
Remember when you light a candle
this Christmas, those many in pain,
those burying loved ones in the rain.
Hurricanes fires, shootings, all
tragedies named, except we call
thirty tornados, a Deadly Storm
which in Arkansas did spawn and form
to deliver death and destruction
obliterating all human construction
in its path, testing our conscious caring
capacity, generosity and heart sharing
capacity, for a storm deadly aimed
at rural small-town-America, damned
to suffer the climate-changed nameless
price of sins for which all seem blameless.
Foggy Morning
The fog rolls on through the morning
as December comes around each year.
Something I may have never noticed,
something that would have slipped
consciousness as days and seasons
meld into one monochromatic year
after year…
Except being inspired by love’s
joy for the world and time we have.
Living in the world and the emergence
of color in a soft sunrise, and appreciation
of the lack thereof in the fog of a predawn
morning, not unlike a predawn of living.
Grateful
Grateful for lessons learned,
of failures owned.
And then the achievements
and successes shared.
For no-one passes unscathed
and without healing
of loved-ones, we could
not be here.
To be grateful for the joy
of those many.
For we are of these many,
and thus blessed.
Always thankful
and grateful of all!
This morning, as I was reading some poems to my 7-year-old grandson, he asked… “are poems supposed to answer a question?”. I said yes, they should reveal a truth about us, about nature and thus answer a question that we may not even have thought to ask. Well my answer to him was not quite that complete… but in the moment, he was answering a question that I have about the purpose of poetry that is born when I sit in front of a keyboard and a blank page.
Poetry is as simple as answering questions.
Questions are inspiring
Answers are discovery
Understanding is growing
Growing is change
Change is constant
Adventure is energy
Energy is passion
Passion is life
Life is love
answering questions
As a climate conference ends in Scotland, and 200 countries agree to a plan to return with a “strengthened” plan to curb greenhouse emissions. We have the success of the commitment to plan for a plan to cheer. We have developed nations committing to help poor nations with their plans. We have the historic achievement of admitting that burning coal is a principal cause of our planet’s warming. Duh. We have words in the agreement to “phase-down” coal… political commitments, and words with plenty of wiggle-room. Valuable or not? Only actions will tell us over the next decade. The results will be self-evident to the next generation.
The good news is the countries of the world are acting together (or play acting) to address a global threat. The COVID-19 Pandemic was a warm-up act to the world cataclysm which climate change could be, and being slow to work together and act to keep global temperature rise below 1.5 degrees C will make a pandemic that killed over 5 million people over the last 22 months look like a minor annoyance.
IT IS FOR REAL AND SO VERY NEAR
Just as the virus cared little about its name
World warming, relentless is much the same.
It is coming to your and my neighborhood
To extract a cost as we were told it would.
Politicians and leaders plan to make a plan
about how we should all be making a stand.
But we don’t give it much more of a thought
beyond, maybe we won’t need the coat we bought.
Everything is local and personal, until it’s not.
Everyone for their own liberties, until it’s too hot.
Everyone for themselves until we see the children
suffering the flood and droughts of a climate cauldron.
We will care more when it’s too late for our kind
and we’ll beat our breasts and seek miracles we find
in science that will shrug and say, but didn’t you hear
when we said that this is for real, and oh so very near.