Oh Deer
Look deer, a deal.
Steering wheel swerved.
My meal on wheels.
Deer-ly Departed
Hunter hunted.
See there’s Freddy -
stopped dead in tracks.
Just Look Up Fool
High beam dreamer.
Should occur to
him; heir on roof.
Hibernation Hideout
Bern let cub go.
Small bear-throw safe
in fro-zen sleep.
"It is almost impossible to watch a sunset and not dream." – Bern Williams.
The spacious vales shimmered in crimson hues
The tired, reddish-orange sun tinged the sky,
As it yearned for rest and descend
Into the darkening horizon below.
There, the soothing river flowed, calm and serene.
No boats sailed the tranquil, gentle waters.
Some birds drifted on its current; others flew above.
Not far away, a dilapidated bridge crossed
From one side to the other, where a person
Stood still, eyes fixed on the cerise horizon.
Along the dark river bank, green trees
Seemed to sway slightly in the light night breeze.
A picture of calm portrayed the scene.
And so, I painted and dreamed.
Placed 1
I’m …
(thus told)
oft’ purveyor of a pen
drowning in the anguish of the heart …
bulletin:
love - not always love
love - always pain
always -
all ways …
wherever, whatever, WHOever the
soul divides for,
consumed, one day …
lost to time’s bitter casualty -
forever’s coda,
postscript of existentialist id …
not an iota
escapes the darkest of fates
ALL is impermanent
and sorrow, the outcome …
in contention, then -
pray, how moans the sea
if not broken on a reef?
how chants a catbird
if not mourning for its mate?
how drinks the earth
without heaven’s weep?
and how bright a sun, if not immersed in
the bitter, unforgiving black of space?
please fear not, that ache -
those throes of casualty are but
the ripples of passing on love’s expanse -
those prayerful pangs,
the precious payment for
life’s dearest …
so, if that blessed abyss be
the stead of my demise,
embrace it, I shall …
and if those briny beads of the
eye are the only coursing for my ink,
so be it …
there are far more poisonous
potions to waste words …
upon.
~ for Bern Fraley ~
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, July 17, 2022
Heidi comes to mind the instant I hear the word Switzerland.
I see snow-capped mountains, sparkling waters, vast meadows
Bern tour will include medieval clock tower and Muenster Cathedral
I will include Lucerne’s chapel bridge and Montreaux, on Lake Geneva
Dare I visit the berg of Zermatt, named for Alpine’s meadows?
Do you realize this is a car-free resort town?
I may have to peek at Geneva, home to peacekeeping organizations
Peacekeeping and neutrality the mainstay of Swiss politics.
Triangle of Swissness
On a rage for softness
Bern of mythical sweetness
Legend of the wilderness
Echoes of milk and honey
Remnants of caramel chimney
One Matterhorn mountain peak
Nougats of Iron tweak
End of logo, rise in solo
Four Billion years or thereabouts
Earth has orbited its appointed place
Slowly and surely developing into
A safe and hospitable living space
What a strange year this has been
Year Two Thousand and Twenty Two
You seem to have bern so long passing
And I’m so glad to see the back of you.
A year of invasion and Warfare
Of bullies flexing their might
Seeming secure in their belief
That might alone is right.
A year of political spectres
Of crooks, spivs and ghouls
Carelessly showing to the world we
Are lead by blatant self seeking fools.
The greedy and avaricious seem
To want, and take, more and more
Leaving even less for the peasants
To fight and grub for off the floor.
The rich man in his castle still,
Security light and guard at his gate,
More and more decrying the excesses
Of the battered remnant Welfare State.
So goodbye twenty twenty two
Heaven only knows what we’ll see,
More of the same and worse I think, when
They usher in year Twenty Twenty Three.
Four thousand years give a century or two
That’s just about as long as it’s taken
For man to abuse Earth’s delicate balance
And leave it stunned and badly shaken
Whatever happened to 60's revolutionaries
I asked my wife in earnest
B. Sanders stayed the course, she said
And it's now his turn to 'Bern us'
Well, it’s that commercial day the community celebration of Mother’s Day
But for me, the thoughts of the presents and all the trappings of show,
it does nothing
My preference is to thought
Mum, I remember you as a young looking chic and cool
no lines of age, no glasses with which to read
You teaching me as a child,
even pushing me on a swing
The country walks,
me looking at this and that even the ants and bees.
You taking time to explain,
even when I was playing games with the cuts and scrapes of childhood games
You would pick me up the smell of your perfume,
the whispered words to comfort,
the hug of pure love
Your laughter when you looked at Dad,
and without him you so sad
And as the years pass,
you no longer by my side
To reassure and say I am loved
without our cards and presents and fan fare
Wish you were here
so we could hear your laughter and voice of the cool advice
As once more
we would hold you so dear and live with the smell of your perfume
Mum, you and dad made my life so grand
and today, me feeling so alone
And this is all one can say..
Miss you, mum
Think of you every day
Bern
Drunk in Barstow,
waiting for a waitress,
who gets off at 2:00 a.m.
The crap game cleaned me,
two bums on the pool table,
snoring like a train
Drunk in Barstow,
third time this month,
I just never seem to learn
The waitress said,
“My boyfriend’s gone,
truck’s on the road to Bern”
Drunk in Barstow,
on borrowed time,
the repo man at hand
I swear tomorrow
I’ll get it right,
tonight—any way I can
(Barstow California: July, 1991)
“Comrade Bernie's in full swing
Arms flailing, fingers pointing,
Like a possessed puppet on a string
To his legions never disappointing.”
“We're a movement young and strong
Forward thinking, kind to all,
They call us mad but that's so wrong
Such a thought takes quite some gall”.
“We in turn look on bemused
The Stars and Stripes turning to the Sickle,
To put it mildly we're confused
Democrats floundering in a pickle.”
“Little do they understand
Momentum's on our side;
From our crusade we'll never bend
We march united like the tide.”
“Yet Trump's laughing with great glee
Re-election firmly in his sight,
Bernie's pitch a hollow plea
Republicans itching for the fight.”
“They may mock us, underrate
Wait and see, watch and learn;
Our revolution simply fate,
Love the man, feel the Bern.
Who is wrong and who is right
In this battle for our hearts,
One thing’s sure it will be tight
Once we get through all the barbs.
Always Would Knew It Was Apparent
We always knew it was quite apparent,
What we determined to be a deterrent,
Were involved,
And resolved,
Made mistake when they were errant.
Jim Horn
Story of Congress's life.
Going to take a trip to New Bern
to buy a Scholitski's sandwich
after having breakfast at IHOP
near COSTCO in Wilmington.
His full name was Bern Bernard
He was an imposing bodyguard
From a few scuffles he was scarred
But nothing serious in that regard
Walking down the boulevard
Showing off his business card
He also moonlighted as a lifeguard
You’d be safe in the pool or yard
You couldn’t help but love Bernard
He was the most proficient bodyguard
Any fear he could effortlessly discard
Have any troublemakers easily disbarred
AP: 2nd place 2020
Posted on February 27, 2018
Hillary and Donald
By Franklin Price
7/29/2016
Hillary and Donald
The Clinton and the Trump
Run to save the country
Or send it further in the dump
Only the two of them are left
To run for president
We no longer feel the Bern
And sixteen have come and went
Clinton is establishment
Politics has been her thing
If she wins will be the first female
To wear the presidential ring
Brings years of participating
With the Washington elite
Where graft is most predominate
Among most everyone you meet
Trump is from the outside
Wants to change the status quo
Will make this country great again
Just how he'll do it we don't know
Being tired of Washington elite
Donald said the things we thought
He also was self funding
A billionaire who was not bought
Neither one is popular
Told so by the polls and news
Neither one is good for us
They're not the ones that we would choose
Who do you think it was that chose them?
Was not some little elves
It was voting by the people
Yes, we did this to ourselves
So now will come November
And on the day the polls will close
One will be chosen by the voters
What will happen no one knows
Tussled snow-haired gnome flies over the land,
A moonbeam daydream, unicorn soars high.
Pulling bread loaves from the air with his hands,
Weaving through clouds shaped like marshmallow pies.
He’s the master of all he imagines,
To his fantasy you are invited.
To be pragmatic is to be tragic.
It’s story time, kids, let's get excited!
This governing’s not as hard as it seems,
Don’t listen to the doubters; they’re just mean.
Who needs economics when you’ve got dreams?
My flock, put your hands on the TV screen!
Too bad your policies aren’t logical;
You’re a damn sight less pathological.
3/18/16
I am small,
You are tall,
But does it matter at all?
No, Bernie!
My heart is Berning!
You see my vision.
I am a twig,
And you are big?
Let The Bern do his gig!
Bernie Sanders we can dig!
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