Nothing to See Here
Nothing to see here,
which forces us to look.
Move along,
makes us dawdle more.
You’ll soon forget,
which of course we won’t.
The details are not what you think,
but, of course, they are exactly so.
History is in the past,
which means it’s here to last.
The future is now ours,
but what is there to see here?
Hazy
I slept well,
but went to bed late
on account of staying up late.
This morning is gloomy again,
the weather app calls it hazy.
It is also the way I feel
on account of going to bed late,
because I stayed up late.
Is there more sleep
in that well of dreams,
where hazy is just fine?
I think I’ll go find out.
Sunday Mornings In the Winter of My Youth
On those so very cold Sunday
mornings in the winter of my youth,
we had to look just right.
My colic was twice-pasted down,
only to pop up later, or so I know from
the fingers licked and repasting in the pew.
Ours was chaos of the moment.
For the day, sister’s hair in bows,
I would dress her in stockings and
patent leather shoes too,
as mother chased brother
into his Sunday attire.
And father would escape into the cold
to warm the car… it seemed so thoughtful
and yet we never said thank you.
But I too, wished I could escape,
into that moment of quiet and solitude
just to welcome the cold.
Give it a Name
Naming everything is a must
without, how would we trust
our dreams to have meaning,
our memories to be seeming
to fade in confusion of twilight’s
gray on gray failing timeless sights.
For we are seeking future’s past
not knowing how long it may last,
challenging the questions of mind
in the greatest of moments we find
ourselves labeling and tagging
our life memories, and nagging
regrets of unrequited dreams
if we could but name it, it seems.
man is a part of nature and nature has its reflection in human emotions…
For do we not assign emotion
of the raging storm,
the angry wind,
the hope of sunrise,
the glory of sunset,
the lover’s moon, and
the wonder of the stars
in order to make nature
one with our human emotions?
Nature must care … because we are part
of nature, and she would be boring without us.
Memories of an Orchard
We used to be sweet
We used to be neat
in rows carefully tended,
with boughs often mended.
It was our pleasure to yield
fruit by the ton in this field.
A few of us knotted remain
Singing a song with sad refrain
Producing an apple here and there
For only the birds that sing and share
our lonely existence of memories and pride
of the red sweetness that lingers deep inside.
9/11 Remember – Let’s Roll!
Everyone knows where they were
in witness of this day 20 years ago.
When we came together in horror as one.
When we came together in grief as one.
And now as divisive as we have become
should not this give us pause and consider
the ones lost, and the brave responders
against an evil foisted on us,
those still hurting and fighting to recover.
Would those we remember today
want us to be divided if they were here?
Their voices scream out to be strong as we once were.
Do not grieve, but unite for us and America.
Wrap us tight into the flag they loved,
and remind us there is more we need to do.
They’d exclaim “Let’s Roll!!!”
Thousands are dying today because we
are not united in war with a virus.
In remembrance, let’s unite and be as one for them,
for all of us, especially those fighting evil
of another threat that was foisted on us.
Let’s Roll should be our battle cry!
Yellow
Yellow is the color of curious you see
as I wonder about you and you about me.
Sunrise yellow shining bright is new and never old
presenting possibilities and discoveries untold.
The books pages are yellow, curious what was read
A hundred years ago, and what thoughts they fed.
As a tabby curiously chases a butterfly yellow
what interests you, my fine intelligent fellow?
For red maybe hot, blue cool, and green bold
Yellow is curiously a mix that’s seldom sold.
So color me curious and leave me be
to discover this world offered to me.
Taliban Takeover Texas
They are in the governor’s house.
They are in the legislative body.
They are in the streets with guns,
no permits, no training required.
They are setting vigilantes against
women who want control of their body,
as well as those that would help.
They are blocking minorities at the polls,
for democracy is not part of their law.
Terrible this Texas takeover by Taliban
celebrated by white supremacists.
Puppets
Puppet masters pull strings.
Dead, the canary no longer sings.
What was once news to inform
is now twisted, intended to deform
our passions per master’s designs
until our trust in truth resigns.
And we give in to their right-think
with wide-eyes that never blink.