What do you think, as the pen is poised?
Is the thought already fully formed?
Ideas get tested before being employed
Many of which can be ignored
Sometimes the sounds make little sense
The intelligent audience will reject
Every other idea must be dispensed
Until all the logic is found perfect
Let the paper test all your doubt
Brevity of words makes clear the reward
Most everything else can be crossed out
What's left, highlighted and underscored
Ruminating on Li??le Bo-Peep,
and sadly,
her badly-missing sheep,
the evidence will show,
in the time allotted,
to get all her ducks in a row,
she had not spotted
the reason they were lost.
It was because her t's were dotted
and their eyes were crossed.
Pick up an offer
You'll find a new adventure
A deduction of prices
A quick accumulating crowd
A long queue of patience
And a challenge of temper
A traffic jam
And a lost of precious time
An extra expenditure
And a new debt
And a risk to Covid-19
Really an underestimated offer
For Trumpians
our multiculturally celebrated Golden Rule
applies first to Ego
then to immediate white privileged family,
then to wealthier gated community,
then to a more rabblous Republican Party,
then to USA nationalists
European predative culture idolaters
mistaking capital-inspired Manifest Destiny
for sacred DNA theology,
then to fallen Earth,
if there is any gold left over
after all that strained dispassion,
divestment fatigue
stretching out from entitled EgoCenters.
For Green Party contemplatives,
the Democratic Golden Rule
is first celebrated with,
then applied to, planet Earth,
then all Her sacred EarthTribes,
then to humanity, alive,
dead,
and yet to arrive,
then to cooperatively co-invested local community,
then to extended family,
then to nuclear family,
then interdependent Ego,
should there by any radically inclusive Golden Rule energy
left deductive
and right inductive
to regeneratively,
win/win bicamerally, share.
Here I am, reminiscing every junction
when poetry and literature peeled my very education
and verbiage and grammatical function
revealed my sense of moody stagnant indications.
Sister Laura questioned every thought that stirred
changing lines and defining the correct poetic form
each cut left a mark from her razor sharpened sword
and in the years that slipped from my teenaged storms
I found clarity out of desperation in the written word.
Stubbornness agonized at any change she made
and every poem I write today reveals
her hidden corrections engraved on every page
that formed my poems, thoughts, ideals to be unsealed.
for Chantelle Anne Cooke's Favorite Teacher contest
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