Posts Tagged ‘poem’

Spring in my Step

May 3, 2020

Spring rolled down into the blue ridge today

blastin all our covid cares away;

she rolled in like a queen

with corona crown of royal green.

Spring

I be strollin’ now out in the sunshine

glad to leave them Febs ’n March behind

out walkin on the greenway trail

these bloomin’ good vibes cannot fail

cuz aint no covid ’strictions now gonna crimp my gait

no not today my April blues were worth the wait.

With my pocket miracle transistor radio

I be striding in sunshine and sayin’ hello.

 

But lemme tell you ‘bout this tune that really makes me lose

them covid crimps and those wintry blues:

the wonder of wonders is that Motown sound

bustin outa deep dark Detroit as I walk around

keepin’ perfect time with my springtime stride;

Yea! now it’s time to take a ride!

down memory lane with my lifeline bride

cuz she was surely My Girl back in the day;

yet she’s my lifetime woman still today,

and though she be now in ICU as a nurse

her love strolls beside me just like at first.

   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCcNcHx2DpY

 

Glass half-Full

COvid Confusion

April 23, 2020

COVID conveys

Confusion, by intrusion,

Contending against our

Contemporary illusions. This damned

Corona thing prevents people from

Congregating, cuz social distancing

Cockamamie

Constricts us to

Collaborating in

Convoluted ways. So we must let ourselves

Commiserate over the loss of

Conventional

Collaboration. But hey!

Coincidentally, we can

Conclude:

Connecting online

Can take the place of the old face-to-face

Conversing like we used to do before this

Cockamamie commotion

Came along, to

Collide with our former

Conductions of

Community-oriented

Cooperation. But this

Collapse of our real

Convening capabilities

Compels us to somehow find new solutions to old

Conundrums. I know this seems a little

Convoluted, but maybe we

Could please try a little harder to

Coordinate our

Collective tactics for the

Continuation of life under these

Confounded

Conflummucks! these

Constrictive

Conditions! Dam! hey we’ll just have to

Conjure up some

Confidence in our public health officials who

Could contrive some strategy and

Concoct some solutions, hopefully better than

Chloroquine, cuz too much of this

Cockamamie

Cwuarantine

Confinement gets them

Contrarian

Confederates all

Conflagrated and

Coiled up like friggin’

Cobras with a

Conniption fit, like, like

Contending, like:

Contrarian

Could we please get this

Cockamamie Covid Contusion

Concluded?! like the

Ckid in the

Car-seat who

Cried out about

COVID Conclusion:

Are we there yet?

but hey I say

Nolo Contendera with

CDC’s strategy of

COvid agendera. Just please

Conclude. You

Copy that? If not,

Elude!

 

Glass half-Full

I hear America flinging

April 3, 2020

I hear America flinging

challenges of COVID dare;

UncleSam

I see America stringing up a net of Covid care.

I feel America wailing, with going-viral fear:

Pleas from nurses, sending out the call for protective gear,

Journalists following every viral report they hear

Doctors attacking the dreaded virus’ lethal spread

Families mourning for—and remembering— their dead

Health Officials call forth our care-giver legions

Media transmit the message to far/near regions

Friends fling phoning nets of loving, living care

Brave RNs march into the battle as they dare

Administrators send out urgent staffing calls

  flinging open clinic doors in crowded hospital halls

Governors rush out urgent calls for public health protection

Reporters fuel the urgency of that damned fast-spread infection

Every citizen who inhabits regions far and near

   gets affected with this dreadful viral fear.

As pleadings sound forth to maintain some social distance,

you could save a life—maybe your own!—in every social instance.

Hey you! Ask not what the world can do for you, in this anti-covid call;

Ask what, together, we can do for protection of us all.

 

(with appreciation for inspiration from Walt Whitman and John Fitzgerald Kennedy)

Glass half-Full

Tiananmen talk

Queen Corona

April 1, 2020

Hey! Who knew?

Somebody somewhere

must have been dreaming

this one up

for next blockbuster

disaster flick

while we were looking the other way

searching for needle in a haystack

next thing you know

we’re  caught in the middle

of hundred year flood

so to speak

though it started as a trickle,

but suddenly swirling whirling

wuhan never saw it hurling

its way through hubei

exotic epidemic

starting, like, quite anemic

but before you know it

mutating to pandemic

mutilating expectations

it was one in a million

i’m tellin’ ya!

straw that broke camel’s back

the damn thing—

a wild card

that brought down our worldwide

house of cards

flinging shards of dollar hordes—

so steadily deadly

everywhere it went

strickening  our system’s

wheelin’ dealin’

achilles heel

nobody saw it coming

GoldRepair

black swan swimming

in the dead of night

just aint right

left without a clue

who knew?

the next big thing

going viral

would be some very vague

plague

nobody ever heard of

who’d’ve thought it

the queen of quite a

lot of unlikely

events

crown it queen

of destruction:

coronavirus.

Even with 2020 vision we never saw it coming.

Blindsided we were.

Actually,

I noticed one person did

see it coming: Chris Martenson.

But don’t blame the messenger.

Don’t blame anybody. Just

Do unto others

as you would have them

do unto you.

Selah.

Glass half-Full

The Second Thummin

January 30, 2020

. . . with acknowledgements to WB Yeats and Biblical canon . . .

Yearning and burning in a maddening ire

the westbank will not heed the politic;

Deals fall apart; the treaties cannot hold.

Teargas mask is worn into the streets,

the rage-dimmed riot is loosed, here and there

the ceremony of negotiation is torched;

the dealers have no persuasion, while the rebels

are full of fired-up intensity.

Some new negotiation is perpetually at hand;

surely the second drumming is at hand

as dissenters thrust their ire upon the streets

while our imagined urim of mideast peace

crumbles every now and then, again, again,

And signed intent once again is bent

to pathetic riot in westbank streets,

‘cuz discontent, predictable as levantic sun

moves its riotous claws to dismantle what’s been done,

as skirmishes between these ancient tribes

cast shadows o’er our peacenik vibes.

Oh! That forty-one centuries of tribal strife

could be laid to rest in a rocking cradle!

Bethlehem

When prince of peace, his Bethlehem phase  done at last

descends to Olivet, with peace that  lasts!

Oh, You may say that I’m a dreamer,

but I’m not the only one!

Glass half-Full

The commons; sacred and secular

January 26, 2020

Here’s a view into a commons area at Ben Gurion airport in Tel Aviv . . . one of the first noteworthy scenes I noticed after stepping off the plane.

CommonsBG

Of all the airport scenes I have ever seen in travels across this world, this view seems to be more accommodating than most. The sight imparted to me a feeling of community, rather than a random passing of jet-travelers.

The late afternoon sun may have lent some bright ambience from above to color my perception in a favorable way.

The next morning, today,  I notice this building on the street where we are staying in Jerusalem.

StPaulChurch

Today I woke up recalling some words from an ancient poet who lived near here.

“Listen to me, you who pursue righteousness
and who seek the Lord:
Look to the rock from which you were cut
and to the quarry from which you were hewn;

look to Abraham, your father,
and to Sarah, who gave you birth.
When I called him he was only one man,
and I blessed him and made him many.

The Lord will surely comfort Zion
and will look with compassion on all her ruins;
he will make her deserts like Eden,
her wastelands like the garden of the Lord.
Joy and gladness will be found in her,
thanksgiving and the sound of singing.

“Listen to me, my people;
hear me, my nation:
Instruction will go out from me;
my justice will become a light to the nations.

My righteousness draws near speedily,
my salvation is on the way,
and my arm will bring justice to the nations.
The islands will look to me
and wait in hope for my arm.

Lift up your eyes to the heavens,
look at the earth beneath;
the heavens will vanish like smoke,
the earth will wear out like a garment
and its inhabitants die like flies.
But my salvation will last forever,
my righteousness will never fail.

“Hear me, you who know what is right,
you people who have taken my instruction to heart:
Do not fear the reproach of mere mortals
or be terrified by their insults.

For the moth will eat them up like a garment;
the worm will devour them like wool.
But my righteousness will last forever,
my salvation through all generations.”

Awake, awake, arm of the Lord,
clothe yourself with strength!
Awake, as in days gone by,
as in generations of old.
Was it not you who cut Rahab to pieces,
who pierced that monster through?

Was it not you who dried up the sea,
the waters of the great deep,
who made a road in the depths of the sea
so that the redeemed might cross over?

Those the Lord has rescued will return.
They will enter Zion with singing;
everlasting joy will crown their heads.
Gladness and joy will overtake them,
and sorrow and sighing will flee away.

Down toward the bottom of this text selection, the poet asks:

Was it not you who dried up the sea,
the waters of the great deep,
who made a road in the depths of the sea
so that the redeemed might cross over?

While modern skeptics dismiss the possibility of such divine interventions to make the paths of faith-based emigrants . . . I was reminded, upon reading these words mentioned above, of a certain group of distressed 20th-century people of the book who, when being threatened with massive malicious extinction, took matters into their own hands and . . .

        “made a road in the depths of the sea”

. . . so that they could exodus from Nazi hell and move forward to carve out a place in the wilderness, on the other side of the Mediterranean: A new-old land in which to prosper, instead of being auschwitzed into oblivion.

IsraelEduc

Pretty amazing stuff on this first bright Sunday morning in the old country.

Glass half-Full

Those Three ConeSpun Mills

December 31, 2019

2020 rings in another hyped-up year,

as traffic rumbles o’er this city’s streets.

The people slog through their habitual gears

as nights pass by and days repeat.

ConeMillsWO

My stopping by this mill’s ancient smokestack tower

drums up crumbling dreams of 120 years ago

When rev-upped steam drove industrial power

as workers toiled to make America go.

ConeFactry

Except for this site’s massive piled-up, silent heaps

no remnant’s here of their past incredible productivity

We hear no rumbling of gears, no wheeling peeps

Nothing but our clueless, wizzing auto-driven activity.

But down beneath those obsolete smokestack towers

under jagged rebar heaps and brickish piles

behind walls of long gone, humming industrial power

rolled miles and miles of denim ‘n flannel styles.

TextilMachn

’T’was there and then through toiling sweat and flowing tears

workers spun off vast bolts of denim cloth;

in feats of toiling ’20’s roar, then Depression fears,

cranking textile miles, yet with no thread of slouching sloth.

 A shrill whistling of the factory call is no longer heard at all,

just a sunny breeze in unseasonably warm December.

These three landmark chimneys stand so stubbornly, so tall

commanding us by their stature, to remember.

As if we could remember, but no; this legacy is lost to us.

For we, so enamored, or ensnared, by electronic spell,

cannot attain to the fierce pace of their spinning, weaving opus.

Now we demolish their wornout legacy, no more to tell.

But massive was their output–their product so dearly spun;

‘though its flannel flappings waiver yet in this, our age’s fatal breeze.

Soon our bulldozing might will render this heritage undone

as fiberoptic spinning of our  sorcery now weaves.

ConeRevStak

Glass half-Full

Demo QuidPro v GOP Quo

December 10, 2019

The  gentleman

was referring to the meeting of the 23rd

at least that’s what I think I heard

HouseComm

He said she said thus and such

at then the other said just as much

on such and such a day we know

but it does not constitute the quid pro quo 

Just answer yes or no:

Thusandsuch was provided for soandso

but it doesn’t amount to a quid pro quo,

yet the majority puts on its impeachment show

while minority says no no no

still aint no quid pro quo.

The gentleman will please–

I don’t know I don’t know

The gentleman is out of order

was that your memory of the–

The gentleman is badgering the witness

and was that the same meeting where

–no sir that was on the meeting of the 16th

 so are you agreeing with mister soandso’s–

Just answer yes or no

I am not prepared to–

It was not at the meeting of the 23rd.

The gentleman’s time is up.

The gentleman will please—

Let me finish sir

the gentleman is badgering the witness

the gentleman can’t get a word in edgewise

point of order

that’s not a point of order; that’s a procedural–

The gentleman’s time is up.

The chair wishes to recognize the gentleman from–

point of order sir

let me finish

but the majority members have an agenda

is it quid pro quo or no?

This is what we need to know

But the record  does not show–

I do not know sir. The chair wishes to recognize–

point of order sir

no no that’s not what the president said

is my memory of it.

 The gentleman will please–

Oh but the gentleman is badgering the witness.

oh no but he told him no 

on the phone you know

that’s what  the metadata show

It all depends on how far you want to go

with this hyped-up committee  show,

media  display of public futility

with impressive legal facility

But where  shoulda been judicial governance

 we see rabid rhetorical comeuppance

as ship of state gets beached in procedural mire

surely John and Jane Doe will  tire

as  congressional spellbinding winds higher

they’ll bluster til the cows come home

til quid pro quo is committee’dly shown

while donkey detailers go on braying

elephants in the room are disobeying.

Meanwhile the documents pile and pile.

This could go on for awhile.

That Trump’s a loose cannon we all remember.

Let the American people decide in November.

Glass half-Full

Carbon and Silicon

November 17, 2019

Someone said that carbon gives life,

while silicon gives sand.

But now there’s buzz about carbon causing strife,

while silicon wields a magic hand.

The someone was referring to element six on the periodic table,

CarbonSilicon

because carbon provides for life a grab-bar that’s organic,

Lifemicro

while silicon fourteen, just below it, is merely able

to direct our circuits like a transistorized mechanic.

Digiboard

Now we should notice, or so I’m told . . .

carbon seems to be forsaking its own self-styled mission;

it has grown quite uppity and bold—

SmokIndust

whereas silicon swirls predictably in wave-like submission.

Sand3

Maybe we should put our silicon bots to work

to affix restraints on the unsheathed carbon beast,

so the little busybody, carbon number six—that jerk!

can’t grab control and crash our worldwide feast.

Glass half-Full

Rain, Flame, Eternal Name

October 27, 2019

Tonight,

The springs of eternity

cast their  perfect pearls of rain

upon our windowpane.

Outside,

blackness of the night

casts dim soundings of our worldly plight

splashing faint toccatas

of lonesome drip-drop, drip-drop sonatas

Oh, this just seems like the end of the world,

as I hear rain against our window hurled.

Or . . .

the beginning of something grand

with baptismal sprinklings from some angel’s hands.

Whichever one it is

is up to us to decide.

There is, you know,

deep within our breast

of pilgrim restlessness

a hope—

a desperate pattering of some purpose,

dropping in this midnight rain

dripping with our blood-borne pain;

It persists in thumpish pattering,

oh, such a dreary smattering,

that falls gently in plip-plopping drops

to bring the harvest of our hoped-for crops—

our dreams, my schemes,

here In this autumn’s irrigated ending.

So far we’ve come from summer’s fair beginning.

MidnightLight

Now in this darkness of October night

by solitary glow of  low lamp light

wired in by human ingenuity

enabled by divine gratuity,

behold  this lamp-fire that burneth not;

it merely glows in element, slightly hot.

Oh! but here’s the wonder of my soul!

If I may be so bold—

as to compare this glow, so tame

with eternal Yahweh flame.

I see it burns for me the same

as for our long-gone brother

who beheld  some earlier other—

in a bush it brightly flamed

to reveal the ancient I Am name.

Yes, I see it  shining  brightly

On the table here next to me.

What a wonder to behold!

A phenomenon so very old.

Whether by electricity or flame;

all is powered by Eternal name,

YWHW I AM and I AM again,

always will be,

I can clearly see.

Now you may say that glow came with Edison,

True, but it did originate  with  Eternal One

who set us spinning ‘round the sun,

after His Big Bang  fun.

Tonight,

The springs of eternity

cast their  perfect pearls of rain

upon our windowpane,

and I’m aware of Yahweh name;

it glints into our human game

again and again and again.

From time to time

we see it shine.

Ah ha!

Selah.

King of Soul