Posts Tagged ‘poem’

Good Square Wenceslas

July 24, 2017

At Prague’s big square called Wenceslas

in a feast of freedom

the people gathered roundabout

to end their socialist grieving.

Brightly shone their bold intent

to form a new collusion.

Hither came brave Havel, sent

to guide their revolution.

Wencsl'89

Gather, people, stand today,

if freedom be your calling!

Yonder Soviets, who are they?

We’re done with their cruel mauling.

Sure, they’ve been in charge out here,

acting like they own us.

But now it’s time to cast out fear

and strive for freedom’s onus.

Bring us liberty to speak what’s true,

and tell it like it is–

There’s more in this life for us to do

than perish in their communism.

From high and low they did assemble;

So bold, in unity were they staying.

In Solidarity they did resemble

their Polish brethren who were praying.

People! Oh, the day is bright’ning

and a mighty wind of freedom blows,

Behold! Despite their Soviet tightening,

the depravity of their gulag shows.

Collapse of their system is now imminent.

We here resolve to accept our fate

while we apply a democratic liniment,

to this demising socialist State.

VelvetRev

From Soviet rubble these Czechs have trodden

in the wake of tyranny’s destined fall,

Czech and Slovak Republics  plodding

to rise from detritus of fallen Soviet wall.

Now proletariat, artist and bourgeois too

can think and work and overcome their loss,

because the wind of liberty blew through

Prague’s great square called Wenceslas.

WencSqr

King of Soul

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What’s a building

July 10, 2017

What’s a building to do?

Is it for some function or use,

or should it just stand there and look back at you?

Must the building pose, so proud and grand,

being stately, stable and strong,

or should it fulfill some meaningful plan?

Hofburg

Some say a building should blend with the earth;

thus it oughta be curvy and quirky,

Hundert

allowing nature to re-green its girth.

Hunder2

Others state that a building should be modern and sleek;

it oughta be angular, straight and clean

Wirtschafts

Then it can be filled with both workers and geeks.

Wirtschaf2

It seems to me a building should be all of these things,

fulfilling all the purposes that human life brings,

allowing all shades of the gray, the browns and the greens,

UVienna

thus fulfilling everyone’s dreams.

Glass half-Full

Spider and Worm

June 15, 2017

Webspu2

Delicately delicate, she suspends it in space,

and spins from her scuttle this air-strewn lace.

Over and over and over again she splices

spidery substance with spot-on slashes

wider and wider through space/time she dashes.

So silvery it shines in morning light

inspiring this human with her shimmering site.

Meanwhile down way down in earthen ground

wiggly worm weaves his way around,

dirty and grubby and stubby and slow

crawling and hauling his humus so low.

He don’t see no nothin’; he just go and go

through sludgy mud and slimy cruds

in soils he toils, ’til shovel turns over his boring drudge.

Worms

These two together are wild working partisans:

the annelid laborer and this arachnid artisan.

Master worm slung low, Madame spider spinning high,

dug in dirty and low and strung up in airy high,

until both annelid and arachnid do wear out and expire.

The earth and the sky turn lower and higher.

Glass Chimera

Try to find Her

April 29, 2017

With all this jibber-jabber about gender,

’tis a conundrum for any attentive community to render

a consensus about who is who and what is what

and whether to swing bathroom door open or shut,

and wondering whether she’s a girl and he’s a boy,

and whether we can use reproductive assets as a toy,

as if genitalia are some useless endowment to be cast aside

like an appendix or a gall bladder, thus neuterizing gonad pride.

ReaderStatu

But this ole boy was reading in a bible a little while ago,

which is, I understand, a dubious activity if I must say so

because many think that ole book aint  hardly worth a dime

because those folks therein were livin’ so far back in time

before there was internet and social media and trash TV

and folks was so bound up in ignorance and primitivity.

And you probably think you know what I’m about to say

about what adam and eve did on that fateful day.

But really I was a-ponderin’ about something other than that–

the teachings of a man who as an ancient king had been begat.

Of Wisdom, he wrote: “She will honor you if you embrace her,”

as if there’s something feminine about wisdom that we should infer.

So, if wisdom is so honorable, as Solomon presents it to be,

why did such a royal chauvinist call wisdom a “her” instead of a “he”?

For such a misogynistic polygamist king to so advise–

why, he had no business issuing such a sexist proverb to the wise:

“Take hold of instruction; do not let her go. Guard her, for she is your life.”

But everybody knows this utterance, by modern standards, is just rife

with chauvinistic, sublimated predatory sexist implication

as if the lusty old king would entrap Wisdom for a coital conjugation.

But really, ole Solomon was like any decent, honorable man

who puts his lady and her wisdom on a pedestal stand.

So it’s good that Wisdom is associated with the Womanly side,

so that Man can proliferate in his brawny, line-of-scrimmage pride.

And this has been going on for a long, long time, y’all.

Glass Chimera

Fishy, fishy, swimming around

April 26, 2017

Fish

Fishy, fishy, swimming around,

in the site and in the sound;

what venturesome hand or eye

could encode thy swishing symmetry?

From what current, sloshing seas

did you swim aground ‘neath GMO trees?

On what slickery limbs did you then crawl

to spy out land and stand up tall?

And what shoulder, and what art

could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy fins began to crawl

what encoding hand did guide it all?

What the software? what the mode?

In which startup was it written, your code?

What bold investor? what venture tax-free

dared to make investment in thee?

When companies tossed out their dividends

and water’d the world with their vested friends:

did they rejoice their work to see?

Did them who wove the web weave thee?

Fishy, fishy, swimming around,

in the site and in the sound;

what human hand or eye

could create they swishing symmetry?

Glass Chimera

Oh, Give Me My Naivete Any Day

April 5, 2017

Oh how naive we are!

We people of faith,

we God-believers,

Let us glory in our mental density!

Oh, how the erudite people of this world

do reign so smartly over us. Oh how they excel in their

proficiencies. Let them revel

in their victory!

Praise be to the savants who

have got it all figured out.

From geologic ages hidden in the mists of time,

they have creeped and crawled and

uprighted themselves from the muck and

the mire. They have propelled themselves in their

homo erectus mobilities and they have evolved

ever so incrementally

in their homo sapiens profundities

not to mention their post-modern

efficiencies

while we fairy-tale tellers grovel in our

religiosity and our neanderthal

naivite.

We stand stupefied

in amazement at the sight of sunrise/sunset

while we mumble prayerful phrases from

of old

from the mists of our antiquity

and the annals of our simplicity, such as:

Oh Lord, my God, You are very great;

you are clothed with splendor and majesty,

covering Yourself with light as with a cloak,

stretching out heaven like a tent curtain.

He lays the beams of his upper chambers in the waters;

He makes the clouds His chariot;

He walks up the wings of the wind;

He makes the the winds His, flaming fire

His ministers.

He established the earth upon its foundations.

Oh what simpletons we be!

So chauvinistic and simplistic to believe

such anthropomorphic allegority.

Oh what mumbly-peggish muck we maintain when we insist to proclaim

all this ancient metaphoric modality,

while nowadays

every educated erudite knows

that PreCambrian begat Cambrian, and all that Paleozoic jazz,

which worked itself into Triassic and Jurassic razzmatazz

and so forth and so on through Mesazoic, then Cenozoic

on into Paleolithic and Prehistoric Man

who persists in doing whatever he can

in the wake of Pleistocene ice

which is nice and will suffice

to explain a lot of glacial turbidity

and anthropologic historicity

instead of anthropomorphic naiveté.

So we see eventually we evolve along

without a prayer, not even a song,

in the midst of Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon arcanity,

destined for humanic profundity

through  Mitochondrial  Eve,

not Adam and Steve

with no assistance from above

while meanwhile push cometh to shove

except an occasional shower or two

a shower for me, a bath for you.

And hey,

if I’m a simpleton in this my childish view,

what’s it to you?

Huh?

At least I don’t say um between every word,

stalling,

so as  not be interrupted by my esteemed colleagues.

Please forgive my simple revery,

amidst my disprespecful levity

as I was a-saying,

‘though maybe its more like praying:

You covered it with the deep

as with a garment;

The waters were standing above the mountains.

At your rebuke they fled, at the sound of Your thunder

they hurried away.

The mountains rose; the valleys sank down to

the place which You established for them.

When every school boy nowadays knows

that such Genesic biblical prose

is just some old Mosaic tale

of Noah, and Jonah in a whale?

Really?

Be that as it may, I insist as I persist:

You set a boundary that they may not pass o’er,

so that they (the floods) will not return to cover Earth.

When every school boy nowadays knows

that if we don’t stop these  carbon-spewing  shows

then the polar ice will melt,

polar bear will lose his pelt

and all the coasts will flood

with climate change like spewing blood

and life as we know it will come to an end

only to begin again

just like the good book predicts

in spite of all our international edicts.

Selah.

And Rah ra, sis boom ba.

On the other hand,

ice is nice and will suffice.

Glass half-Full

March 14, 2017

March 14, 2017

Why the Diagonal, y’all?

TreeDiag

Because it’s the shortest distance

between two

points?

or

because what goes up must come

down?

or

to break up the conformism of these trunkated

lines?

or

because it

snowed?

or

because this old tree was just ready to begin its

fall?

DiagTree

or

because its time had come, y’all?

or

because that’s

all

she wrote

or

maybe it was just the final

call,

from seed to tall

from spring to fall.

It could happen to us

all,

y’all.

From seed to fall,

that’s all?

Prob’ly not,

I do believe.

SeedEating

You?

Glass half-Full

Tear me up.

March 7, 2017

FalnTre3

Tear me up, life,

just tear me up,

stomp on me if you want to

pick me up and throw me ‘cross the world.

I don’t care.

Go on now,

get on with it.

Watch me like a hawk,

and when I’m at my tenderest,

most vulnerable point,

pounce!

Take your best shot!

What you do not see

is the One who died for me.

His sacrifice has made all the difference,

and will yet again

when I rise with Him.

So just get along now.

Go find someone else to pick on.

You think I don’t see you.

But I do.

And I will.

IrisB2

Glass half-Full

Deer February

February 1, 2017

DeerMrn

Yesterday morning the deer passed through;

first there were four; then there were two.

The deer in the snow made a beautiful scene;

compared to the world, they’re much more serene.

DeerTwo

Today came differently, in a fiery surprise

as the sun shone magenta, over the rise.

The news today brings greater probability

unborn babies will get life possibility.

Selah.

Sunrise

Glass half-Full

Home, home on the Strange

January 23, 2017

PlotSqr

Oh, give me a home where Americans roam

where the donkeys and elephants still play,

where seldom is heard, a fake newsy word

and talking heads are nice to each other all day.

How often at night when the talking heads fight

in the light of a flat TV screen

have I sat here so sad, and yes, even mad!

at the downfall of American dreams.

Yes, my Home, home’s way out here;

here in flyover country so dear,

where manipulated stats, and alternative facts

don’t mean diddly-squat all the year.

Oh give me a home, where civility’s not gone

where we still have a song and a prayer

where seldom is heard, a vindictive word

and for alternative facts we have not a care.

Glass half-Full