rising from bed in the morning
seeking shelter when it's storming
idly whiling stray hours away
dreaming there will be better days
fabricating a self-image
with a more prominent linage
doodling on back of a letter
shunning life as a go-getter
paying of various taxes
wielding rhetorical axes
stopping by the grocery store
dealing with muscles which are sore
waiting in the queue at the bank
musing why the page remains blank
finding the proper words to say
quickly dealing with come-what-may
filtering life's little lessons
leaving positive impressions
contemplating all that might be
if we'd just win the lottery
making life much less exacting
all in the action of acting
discovering what keeps us sane
among remains of the mundane
Taxing gracelessly
Axes department
I bear the scars of axes
forgotten loves
lost rings consumed
in fiery conflagration
rooted in the past
leafless in the present
reaching into the future.
Wars have torn me
taken my offspring
clouded the world
children have hugged me
nestled in my outstretched arms
swung from my limbs
clung to my strength
as they crept
from beneath my shadow
seeking sun and soil
a place to put down roots.
©12/26/2019
I am a tree Poetry Contest
AXES!
-Dharga Nagar Safa
If you,
Turn an axe
Tomorrow,
I won't stand as a tree
Today!
They want to tax our axes
Then, take away our trees.
They impose cell phone taxes.
Then, laugh and shoot the breeze.
Lodges, matches, bridges, britches,
Dresses, dishes, finches, fishes.
Hinges, hitches, hedges, hearses,
Lenses, lynxes, luscious lashes…
They dip their hands in every pot.
Spreading wealth around they say…
Big Business taxes are a lot…not!
The newfangled economic way –
The middle class will love to pay!
© January 29, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen