Dear sweet email,
sent at a bright and early 5 in the morning
who is greeted by my parents with a groggy groan -
but to me, you are no groan-able sight.
To me, sweet email, you are
a beacon of light, shining and bursting with hope
A white flag, waving high, sent through the barracks
of the endless war between myself and school’s 7am start
declaring a delicious delayed departure
for myself and my sisters.
You grant me the gracious gift
of turning over on my pillow,
setting my alarm to 7, and swiftly getting back to dreaming.
You instill upon my day
A day that cannot be anything but great, grand, perfect
For that day is shortened, and starts at 9.
Oh, two-hour delay, you are as rare as a four-leaf clover
but as welcome as a long-lost friend on my doormat
each time you choose to stop by
you will never be turned away.
I walked on wet sand and left my mark
the ocean washed it smooth,
but something stayed,
the way love leaves its shape on everything it touches.
I scratched my name into the side of a tree.
Now the tree is growing around those letters,
making them part of its body,
part of its story.
Today,
I stand in sunlight streaming through my window.
Tiny pieces of dust float around my hands
like small worlds spinning in space.
The air I breathe was breathed by someone else before,
passed from lungs to lungs across the years.
I am made of borrowed things,
meals my mother cooked,
my father's steady voice,
books that changed the way I see,
hands that held mine when I was afraid.
All of it is still alive in me.
And I sing because I can,
because I'm here,
my voice a small flag waving in the wind,
saying yes to this,
one wild and precious day.
To Americans, July 4th
is Independence Day,
with; barbecues, concerts, fireworks,
picnics, parades, patriotic festivities,
(a.k.a., Freedom Day).
Despite the star-spangled banner's,
red, white and blue,
to that of the British Union Jack,
being identical in hue,
flag-waving they're compelled,
or conditioned, so to do.
The U.S. Constitution does define,
'Treason' as... the only crime
consisting of levying war
against them, and/or,
to their enemies adhering,
with comfort and aid
by all means conveyed.
To those in England,
considering, in 1776,
colonists went their own sweet way,
it's the ultimate 'Treason Day'.
And, altho' the U.S. touts
'Separation of Church and State',
yea, verily I say,
is it not hypocritically unjust
of them to print on their money,
'In God We Trust'?
Laying in the cool breeze
Drying the sweat on my face
Chilling my skin feeling refreshed
The light touch of God
The unknown rhythm of the wind
Memories of people and places
Flag waving back and forth
Remembering what it means to me
Hair moving with the breeze
Helping to loll me to sleep
Carrying happy dreams
Into the Universe
The political biochemistry of triumphs and defeats
Lives its spasmodic life
Consisting of precious milliseconds,
Precise calculations and brutal muscle power.
But this bodily activity
Doesn't mean a thing
Without the reports, the flags, the anthems, the politics of international relations,
Without the sensational exposures,
regularly supplied by biologists.
And what is left for those who are not involved in the world of national vanities,
A world of deadly grudges and the will to win,
A world of flag-waving and sublimated hatred, even in those who imagine themselves observers?
None of the above, actually.
Our victories have long since been converted into ordinary days.
When half an hour passes in ten minutes
And evenings linger until dawns
For no apparent reason.
As far as Eyes could see
I never thought I could come back to thee
You untraveled my twisted yarn and year knots so patiently
Knitted my soul back together
And
In all your Glory, you recreated out of me...
A beautiful tapestry
Now, Im a flag waving in the wind
Declaring the victory
Of the God almighty,
Who's Glory has set me free
Not sure why
USA red
relentlessly white
and not so much blue WholeEarth patriots
have consistently
selflessly supported
medical missionaries
vaccinating against every unmasked
health threatening disease
erupting in tribal life
of darkest social systemic Africa
Yet fail to co-empathically embrace
basic
fundamental
win/win evangelically redemptive
bipartisan public health care
here in domestic
Straight White
USA Christian
flag-waving homes
Where live and breathe
our own at-risk children
And climate threatened grandchildren
And pandemonic RightWing denihilistic
degenerating public and private health prospects
for great grandchildren
Who might hope to survive
for more than another wealthy
humane-divine
nature-spirited century
Sacredly meaningful
unmasked
transparent
and multiculturally vulnerable
co-empathic
polypathic
EarthBound public and private
eco/theo-logical
Celebrating systemic
global inter/inner-connected
good-faith health consciousness.
Hiltler was ready to conquer the world.
A seven year stood on a windy Chicago corner.
White Mary Janes, white stockings
Plaid skirt, beige blazer.
A mini Soldier's cap rested on her long hair.
A small American flag, waving in the air.
That little girl is a patriot still.
An American flag, flies with pride.
On her house in the California hills.
She's not selling out her great nation!
Nor freedom to be a Socialist nation.
4/28/2021
t-rump simply never grew up
and so formed as.....
a spoiled child given $100 million by age 19
and advice on how to put his life together
his education was bought not earned so he assumes
and the 'now' is as his ball in a school yard game
he made his fortunes as a bankruptcy fall guy
and not as representative of success through constructive-ideas
he is as a flag waving craftsman leader of masochistic ego
and crafts only name calling bad feelings
also denial divisions
and evasive fabrications
blame others games
and vengence threats
t-rump is as a child in an old mans body
and that means his demented mind simply never had to grew up
stan sand
One legged evil brownie with a lopsided top hat
Was tired of crab legged crone thinking she was all that
Her feather and sword gave her instant jurisdiction
Her thought her followers fell under some addiction.
Her flag-waving ways were annoying to Buggy B Biff
She smelled like a cadaver for he had caught a whiff.
She was beyond ugly with twelve ruffled hideous boots
He put on his spurs, gun belts, and plaid bagpipe flutes.
She was stirring up the women. He saw his own wife!
Who was screeching and screaming, holding a silver knife.
He crept up slowly to Creelah, the crab-legged crone.
All he wanted her to do was to leave the women alone.
Bam! The trigger was pulled before he even realized.
He had shot the old skeleton dead, he quickly surmised.
The women stampeded the stage, and kicked him to death.
The last thought he had was, I should not have taken the meth.
Freedom and our Flag
For those who never knew freedom.
My heart cries out in vein.
The cries of a dying nation going in sane.
Pitted against each other mud slings both ways.
The Statue of Liberty crying as clearly we lost our way.
There is the grand old flag waving proudly in the wind. Serving us with honor to provide and pave the new way again.
Rallying the troupe to serve proudly to protect our freedom with their lives.
The American flag waving proudly on a summer’s day.
A light, May rain comes suddenly, it is totally unexpected.
The amazing red, white and blue flag should have come down.
It is saturated and alone, wet, cold, devastated, shaming someone.
Whoever should have rescued it will be genuinely sad when they see it.
If I had a hundred foot ladder or rope know-how, it would be down now.
Safe out of the rain, in a warm red barn next to hot chocolate and a cookie.
r e d
white
bl ue
r e d
white
bl ue
r e d
white
bl ue
r e d
white
bl ue
r e d
white
bl ue
I like to see the flag waving in the breeze
The way it flutters sure does to me please
The blue over the Southern Cross sticks out
And I know what the history of the Union Jack is about
As Australians we know what freedom costs for us all
As we remember those who fell defending its call
This Great Southern Land parched and brown
Brings forth a harvest known the world round
On this Australia Day 2019 National Pride is brought forth
And we know what Australia means for us and what it’s worth
Of all the symbols that our blue flag conjures with pride
It’s the Southern Cross shining brightly under which we abide.
© Paul Warren Poetry
It seems Left true,
yet beyond AltRight evangelical reproach,
Deliberately violating a democratic governance constitution
is analogous to betraying a resident-inclusive
cooperatively-governed trust
invested in health conserving resilience, ecological
and wealth defending resonance, geo-theological
secular polypathic
with sacred polyphonic co-acclimation,
transubstantiated humor
creolizing psychology's socio-power analysis
and ecology's ecotherapeutic co-investment
in bilateral
and multilaterally winning
sacred scientific revolutions
swirling in robust multi-meta paradigms
Evolving strings
informing/exforming
transforming regenerative healthy-wealth
of democratically multicultural thought
nutrition
matriarchal nurture
as American as apple pie
and flag-waving international sacredness of motherhood.
Homage to Catalonia?
Policeman wielding batons or shedding a welled up tear,
Flag waving populace or staying home in fear,
State defence of self, or defending an historic lie,
Should we pay homage, or should we just weep and cry?
Turning out to vote, or disobedient serf,
Democratic abuser or defending right of birth,
Violent state repression or debating reasons why,
Should we pay homage, or should we just weep and cry?
Hurried lines drawn on maps or quite beyond the pale,
Land up for rental or permanently for sale,
Freedom of expression or state to look and pry,
Should we pay homage, or should we just weep and cry?
Part of bigger state, or standing on your own,
Wired in kit at home, or mobile telephone,
Going with a third, or vote not home and dry,
Should we pay homage, or should we just weep and cry?
©Keith Murphy
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.