Celebrating a Country with Words

Beautiful and inspirational. Amanda Gorman is only 22, folks. Watch her.

Fragile

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.

Cognitive Dissonance

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.

Distraction

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.

Photo via Foter.com

 

Dancing in the Dark

Golden sunlight pierces a rift
In draperies drawn closed,
Warm photons passing through floating motes,
To land upon a fallen streamer lying
Coiled in a graveyard of listless balloons.

For a brief moment the hovering dust
Swirls and eddies
As a figure slowly sways through the light,
Stocking feet shuffling
Back and forth,
Back and forth.

Eyes closed in reverie,
Softly humming,
Moving in time,
Her graying hair shifting loosely
Around thin shoulders,
As she sways
Back and forth,
Back and forth.

Arms opening wide
As if in expectant embrace,
She slowly twirls
Out of the light
And resumes her swaying
Back and forth,
Back and forth.

The balloons scuttle heavily out of her path,
Carried on disturbed air.
Streamers whisper as they form new entanglements
On the wooden floor,
And as she makes her latest pass,
All becomes quiet again
As she continues
Dancing in the dark.