I send my love out On butterfly wings Each intentional beat A beautiful thing Every gossamer pulse A prayer for well-being.
Beautiful and inspirational. Amanda Gorman is only 22, folks. Watch her.
A hummingbird died in my hand today. Rescued from a predatory pet, Who prowled around Searching for her lost snack, Ambulatory, While the tiny bird, Once so swift, Now rested in my warm, cupped hands, Its breath a quick stacatto beat. A quick peek discovered bare bird skin, A tiny foot, Or is it grass? And wings so still. A prayer. A plea. A tiny beak grazes my palm. A momentary hope, Then stillness. And from the nearby cedar, In the quiet of the darkening sky The echoes of Calypte's cry.
They wrapped him in a pretty package Glitz and glamour, golden words Written on the fronts of buildings In his mind, it's all absurd. They marched him out in front of cameras He claimed he didn't like it there Fluttered over onto Twitter All his grievances to air. News is dead, except for FOX, He typed in looming letters large. Put dissenters in a box Bound with lies, said he's in charge. Fighting words at all his rallies, Never gave an inch of grace. Lock her up and yes, we're coming MAGA fists up in your face. Republicans were first to falter. One by one the statesmen fell, Sacrificed on Donald's alter On the path to Trumpian hell. Lock her up, the MAGAts chanted, Led by their besmirking boss, Leading our first competent woman To a devastating loss. "Out with government!" Donald shouted, "You're the ones to lead this place." As he smiled inside with glee Knowing that he held the ace. "First I'm going to stop the Muslims" Chaos reigned throughout the land As students, moms and dad and doctors Could not return as they had planned. Next I'm going to bring your jobs back Donald said before the crowd, Pulling out a planted speaker All those lies were soon avowed. "You're my people," Donald shouted, "For you I won't claim a check!" MAGAts swooned and not one doubted, But Donald had done stacked the deck. His golf trips soon were high in number, Dragging along his secret staff, Playing US fiscal plumber His properties earned as Donald laughed. Not everyone was blind to cheating Stories ran about Donald's fraud But nothing stopped the sheep from bleating, "Donald has been sent by God." Prayers were lifted in his honor. Hands were placed upon his head. As slyly he evaded questions About which Bible verse he'd read. "You're my people! God has sent us!" Trump decreed with forked tongue. As he separated parents From their children, oh, so young. "These aren't people. They aren't like us." Peering through the chain link fence, Were small brown faces, wide eyes crying, Trumpist gain at their expense. Someone will check him, we all whispered, Hoping Congress would do their job. Despite impeaching, no removal. Congress now ruled by the MAGAt mob. Coronavirus now infects us, Spreading wide across the land Help was absent, supplies lacking, Just like Donald Trump had planned. For four long years our country's suffered Under Trump's despotic reign. Hopefully we've learned a lesson To never hire his like again. Democracy's a fragile system Meant to be shared by everyone, Voters at the ballot box, Not raving madmen with a gun. So enter science, education, Civics classes so in need. With a new administration Ramp it up with lightning speed. Restore faith within the system Build it back up brick by brick. Teach our children not to fall for Chicanery or glitzy tricks. Lest a people so deluded By the Piper's mesmerisms End up walking off the cliff, And taking the whole country with them.
Dense fog in the air
All we see are our own views
Rise above it all
His puppy eyes plead,
Let me in. Must you be so
If I could funnel my energies into one thing
That lightens my life and makes my heart sing,
Would I set up my tripod and click-click away,
Storing photos to freshen my memories someday,
Or plunk away, tapping my keyboard all night,
Trying to come up with a story just right,
Or study psychology hoping to find
The missing connections that weigh down my mind?
Would I read all the classics or find something new?
Would I try an inventive new recipe or two?
Would I play with my dog tossing Frisbees and balls,
Or paint pictures to hang on my many empty walls?
Would I tinkle the ivories or strum on some strings?
Oh I wish I had time to do all of these things!
But it seems every chance I get when I’m alone
I’m a virtual prisoner to my smartphone.
My truths are
Tried and true;
Yet in your orbit
My needle wavers,
Confused and confounded,
If you dare
On that loose thread,
In a life so carefully knit,
You may free yourself
In the unraveling.
Your words fall
Like stacatto vibrations on my tympanic soul,
Falling in percussive waves
That in the ensuing silence
Still ripple and crash
But not unfelt.