Landlubber lived in the forest.
He built homes and splatted his tail
in the stream when danger was near.
Landlubber’s gnarly teeth chewed branches
creating shelter for his little ones.
Life was good until the owner
arrived and blasted his home to pieces.
The farmer was glad he got rid of the beaver.
Landlubber moved on to build the house
of his dreams on some
other land lover’s property.
everyone knows my name,
everyone knows my face,
everyone knows my smile,
everyone knows my laugh,
everyone knows my voice,
but it doesn’t matter cause,
they don’t know my story,
they don’t know my scars,
they don’t know my lies,
they don’t know my pain,
they don’t know,
how much I’m breaking down,
how much I’m trying to hold on,
how much I’m losing my trust,
how much I’m struggling,
how much I’m dying
There is a sadness
In my heart
That never goes away.
It follows me
Like a shadow
Every night and every day.
It has become
A play- thing of sorts
Like a long-lost teddy bear
It makes me shed tears
When I need to
And it brings me a little comfort
When I need that too,
But someday I hope to lose
This sorrowful shadow of mine
And find something better
To ease my weary mind.
(Chicago’s North Side)
This senior citizen
whose face is Rushmore still
squats with pigeons on the steps
of the Rogers Park Masonic Temple.
She wears a shawl this snowy day
and is beneath the visor of a hunting cap
a woman who has paused along the way.
Her shopping bags, stuffed, frayed,
and each square feature of her face confess
she speaks at best a little English.
Rested, she will rise,
a penguin on a floe,
and navigate her day.
More at http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com and http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com.
Much has been happening these days .
The world around me is changing very fast.
I find my own universe lies threatened with new possibilities.
I wait and watch and enjoy how erasure is a pleasing thing.
I like only to cling to my past for the ring of security is still there.
I see the ring as I hear how everybody near and dear comforts me.
Today my world has expanded far and wide leaving me expecting much.
The ring of my past heard in my silent hours brings the clamour of demands alive.
I see everybody around- father, mother, brothers and sisters with many more- consoling me.
Am I desperate today ? Am I very sure my world of explanations is growing unchanged
Despite wind of change sweeping every floor of expectations and dreams at a magician’s speed?
There is an answer still- all is so wrought already well , there can hardly be any ill!
Conflict requires participation.
Its unfolding depends on
what you’re holding:
wits or weapons.
One leads to resolution,
the other to escalation.
One leads to conversation,
the other to combat.
One leads to explanations,
the other to hostility.
Don’t battle when you can barter.
Bring your trade bead abacus
And show the true accounting
Of possibility and peace.
Vacillating Benny, an ancient chemist
now retired from Monsanto, must decide
if a poem his friend Ron has sent to him
is good enough for his hobby journal.
Benny finally decides to let the poem
marinate for another month
without sending Ron a reply.
Maybe it will sound better later on.
A month later, Benny asks his dog,
Monsanto Max, for an editorial opinion.
Bolstered by his dog’s advice,
Benny sends Ron a note:
“I’m considering your poem
and will get back to you later
with a quasi-final decision.”
How might you respond if you were Ron,
a retired professor who wrote his poem
while teaching English in Vietnam?
Ron decides to send old Benny
three cases of Dom Perignon,
each bottle filled with Agent Orange.
Ron hopes Benny will have
the time he needs to decide if
his poem’s worthy of publication.
Ron remembers decades ago
when they were young and in their prime
and his old friend Benny was
First Vice President at Monsanto.
Ever decisive, Benny quickly approved
new applications for Agent Orange.
More at http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com.
These evenings are different.
To find a little darkness is difficult.
Lights all around are a disturbing thing.
To rest, to sleep, to relax and to enjoy
It looks too difficult for this flooding light.
Sometimes it looks cave life was free.
Emotions in raw forms were pure.
Honest exchanges defined relationships
To find friends or make enemies.
These days evenings don’t help
To hide self, friends,moods and interests.
Exposed in full, how embarrassed one stands
Unable to face admires and critics alike!
Capturing the way
of the world
through lens-
Life is seen at
every angle.
Another twist of the knife
with pinpoint precision
to bleed the world’s angst
upon the already drenched ground
as division flares
across the airwaves
with a corporate media
pimping and pumping the problems
one right after another
in a steady stream of chaos
to keep the people
afraid and at each other’s throats
Another gunshot fires
trigger point to the bursting flesh
in a hallowed church
where no salvation can be found
just an old tattered flag
being waved as a sign
that some hatred never dies
it’s the devil’s gift that keeps on giving
down the line
from one seed to the next
in a polluted bloodline
full of sins unto each generation
Another mother weeps
as the saviors and sages
from a time long past
turn over in their graves
kicking up dirt
that gets slung in all our eyes
to keep us blind
of all the superficial face value bull
so maybe we can start to see
something a little deeper
at the core
where everything is One
and solutions might soon be found
More at https://17numa.wordpress.com/.