Thursday, July 23, 2015

Two Score, and One More

Two Score, and One More



Two Score, and one more.
More like a soccer game, now:
Scoring differently.

Two Score, and one more.
Half-way to four score and two:
Life half-way complete.

Two Score, and one more.
Straddling two centuries:
Two millennia.

Two Score, and one more.
Enough to be a father:
Contented as son.

Two Score, and one more.
Staccato to Vibrato:
Triumphant soundtrack.

Two Score, and one more.
Nearing the top of life’s hill:
Or is it mountain?

Two Score, and one more.
Less frustrated, more content:
And still evolving.

Two Score, and one more.
Succumbing to haiku’s ease:
Basking in structure.

Two Score, and one more.
Revolving stock on life’s shelf:
Using unexpired.

Two Score, and one more.
Thirteenth smallest prime number.
Indivisible.

Two Score, and one more.
Like the first of the Bush clan:
Now expecting third.

Two Score, and one more.
“Thank you”s balance with “Sorry”s:
Well, not quite balanced.

Two Score, and one more.
In technology’s shadow:
Seeking warmth in print.

Two Score, and one more.

On one hand, accomplishments:

Thursday, July 9, 2015

Sticks and Stones

Sticks and Stones



Sticks and stones may break theses bones but
Words, oh words: these words!
Red-lettered or allegoried,
The Prophet’s or King’s,
Behind snipers’ sites, bombers’ thumbs,
Prophecies fulfilled.

A grandmother’s saccharin wisdom
Empty words themselves,
Brushing bruises from broken hearts,
From bullies’ bombast,
Salves upon wounds upon gashes:
Bactined, Band-Aided.

Founding Fathers’ tools and weapons
War, Revolution,
Join-or-dying Constitutions,
Rights, hope, rebellion
Resurrection, reconstruction:
None without words.

What of that time, time before words?
Before grandmothers?
What of that time before Fathers:
Heaven and Nation?
What of that time before sticks and stones?
Sharp tools and weapons.

Before words:
No hate, no wealth,
No love, no poverty,
No jealousy,
No difference,
No sin, no forgiveness.

No ours, no we: no us, just me.
Neither law nor right.
Before words: fittest survival
(Or was it Eden?)
Before words, neither truth nor lie,
Silent, unhealed pain.

No reflection, just shadows ‘til
Nights fell, green and blue
And dusk and dawn and the wonders
Of cosmos:  mere sky
Unattainable and unnamed:
Beyond dreams or grasps.

No Russia, No China, No France:
No America!
No Empire, memories, or myths,
No Iron curtain,
No metaphor, no beat, no rhyme.
No poets. No hymns.

Ideas to bombs
Chants to marches.
Cold to matches.
Words to war.
Words to brotherhood.
Damnation to Salvation.

Unbrandished, unthrown, unuttered,
Harmless in these states
Yet for culture, society:
These United States:
Worthless unused, yet
In peace and terrorism both
Priceless wielded  right.

Now worded, granted memory:
Of grandma’s cheek-pecks,
And Fathers’ gifts to progeny,
And stale sticks and stones,
Of Saviors, of wisdom, of science.
Knowledge housed in words:
Past and progress melding now: Words.