Wars Folly
Since you are there and I am here,
have yourself an ice-cold beer.
Raise your glass and sing with cheer,
for all you love is standing near.
This is not the way for me,
I’m on a deck across the sea.
The rolling deck as engines roar,
as in the sky fighter’s soar.
Barely adult’s young soldiers die,
as their loved ones at home cry.
On the land the sea or air,
loved one’s bleeding over there.
With hat in hand their families wait,
for soldiers to come home they anticipate.
The touch of their skin and smiling eyes,
to give hope to their heart and spirits rise.
This is not for all that go,
say the crosses row on row.
For at the point of a gun,
dreams are destroyed and come undone.
Hundreds dead or maimed for life,
filled with sorrow, pain, and strife.
Their mothers look at us and say,
why do our children have to pay?
It matters not to them we won,
their lives are shattered and undone.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
Let all the tree tops glisten ,
And gleeful children listen,
As snow drops gently fall,
To an amazing Christmas call.
Let all the people sing out loud,
Let mistletoe hang, from every cloud,
Let stars twinkle in the sky,
Let Angel choirs reign this night ,
And bring delight to human kind,
With their so lustrous light.
The midnight hour is close,
And many praises heard,
Countdown begins,
Even Santa is among the crowd,
Hat in hand, his head bowed.
The clock begins to strike,
The heavens open wide,
A nativity scene displayed,
Before our very eyes,
A heavenly Babe is born,
This early Christmas morn.
Sparks explode on piercing skies, to drown upon a basement of grass.
An uzi and more cannons so keenly edged glimmer bright--
soon, real soon the red of blood will run dry.
City folks' imprints fade to dust where
oppression sets sail on a once quiet land,
time gnawing urgent prayers to mumbled speech;
an end to goodness that's divinely human.
Then, a simple wish, a dream. A reality?
A wish for harmony marked long ago
still unmet , unfulfilled while bodies pile
on layered sheets fresh and damp.
So how do we know the why from which
of this endless conflict?
But pain comes and goes hat in hand,
sometimes,
victims beg for sudden death right on hallowed mud.
Sometimes, anguish hits so desperately hard , forgetting to skip a beat ,
as more sparks blare, rat-tat- tat--
until God only knows what when forgiveness of all wounds should heal ...
Under siege, on wishes never granted,
do men persist on fighting the evil this violence wields?
Ivy-covered sheepskin, firmly in hand
the confident graduate, square-jawed and tan
Pulled offers from prestigious start-ups all over the land
a year later he played lead guitar, hat in hand
He, ever-grateful to his folks for those music lessons
They, bleary-eyed from all the therapy sessions
Yet Patience will out, and Time always tells
Perhaps by thirty-five he'll own an oil well
Almost there, a few steps to the door
The wind spanks us promising more
Eyes view up while drops start down
The race is on across the ground.
Brand new shoes, a clean white blouse,
Crunching my hat I sight in the house.
A drop there, now a drop here
Drops on the blouse and it goes clear.
Drops on the shoes but that's just fine,
Water bounces off these loafers of mine.
Drops start pelting, I reach for my keys,
My hat blows off ,I turn to retrieve.
Drops to streams just like that
Water soaked, I dive for my hat.
Rising now I splash toward the lock,
Hat in hand with soaking wet socks.
Door unlocked inside to the dry
Sighing now I wipe my eyes,
Oh no! I feel like a louse,
My wife's outside in a see through blouse!
Who is the Ringmaster?
Who is the pawn?
Who will decipher
When the patrons are gone?
Enter the Big Top spot the trapeze,
Allay all your fears, put them at ease.
Barnum, Ringling masters long past,
Legends of showmanship destined to last.
Performers who push human boundaries,
Whose skills outstrip all practicalities.
It's raw talent on view in center ring,
Unique marvels of practice really happening.
No single skill matters outside the ring,
Performance in life, that's the thing.
Suspend for a moment what you know to be real,
Fantasy is fostered, it's the circus appeal.
Listen to the Ringmaster's full vibrato
As he shows each act with flair.
Paces his rich voice staccato
Presenting, making you connect and care.
Never lets himself become the show,
Top hat in hand in center ring, beginning to the end.
Tells you all you need to know,
Master of all the fun, every patron's friend.
(Alfred, Lord Tennyson, the greatest of Victorian
poets, formed a very close relationship with
Arthur Hallam and frequently visited the Hallam
home in Wimpole Street. After Hallam's sudden
death, Tennyson frequently returned to the house,
and stood weeping in the street.)
Tears, Idle Tears
When two young men are close – are more than friends,
perhaps? – as Tennyson and Hallam were,
and with one’s sudden death, the friendship ends,
what may we (faced with morbid grief) infer?
That Arthur bore the promise of the age
is well attested. But was taken young.
Is sorrow something simply to assuage,
or are there deeper wellsprings? Alfred clung
unhealthily to his. The morning rain
would lash him as he stood there, hat in hand,
in front of sixty-seven, drenched in pain
he neither could discharge nor understand:
abandoned lover, feverish and thin,
with salty raindrops dripping from his chin.
Let us put on humility,
Even being on center stage;
Remain meek and modest amid
Honor, glory, praise, and prestige.
Meekness may elicit picture
Of someone saying 'I was wrong';
Or one telling 'I need help' from
A certain group he does belong.
Yes, it brings into mind of one
Not expecting royal treatment;
Remaining lowly and humble,
Even if he is prominent.
It further raises one's image
Of putting others' concern first;
Reaching down to other people
From pedestal of interest.
The lowliness leads to wisdom,
While the arrogance to disgrace;
The former ends in accolade,
As the latter in shame of face.
Humility brings wealth and life,
While the ego castigation;
Modesty makes joy and gladness,
As pride puts one in destruction.
Hat in hand truly gains guidance,
As cap on head spawns misery;
Clothe not ourselves with boastfulness,
Let us put on humility.
The inevitable envy we feel
When we see our neighbour’s wealth
The eternal Ferris wheel
Up now, then down
The wheel turns
To be up
And to be down
Yet the greatest of us
Rise to the challenge
Of when being up
And seeing far
Not to look down
On those below
Not to spit
And not to drop
Popcorn snow
On those below
For who knows when
A turn – and then
Those above
Will fall from love
And become in a cycle
The bottom few
On the poor man’s pew
Hat in hand
To beggarly stand
If my child came to me in need
with confidence that I would heed
his plea, responding right away,
giving my help without delay,
if then he took my gift and left,
would I not feel a bit bereft
if he gave no more thought to me
until one more emergency?
Is that not how I treat my Lord,
taking him at his loving word,
beseeching when the need is there,
forgetting him when times are fair?
Dear Lord, I come with hat in hand,
to let You know I understand
that You are there through thick or thin,
whether I lose or if I win.
So now, right now, upon my knee,
I'm thanking You for helping me
through sorrows and admitting too
the days I have forgotten You.
I long to be the grateful one
acknowledging all that You have done.
With hat in hand the truth arrives
Too tired for much ado
They tell us now that grandpa Joe
Had something worse than flu
The fire goes unlit, within its granite frame
heated is the argument, cold the man.
Husband mine, please accept this suitors claim
for he is worthy of your daughter Ann.
See her downcast face, her melancholy,
she sickens so and I've done all I can.
Raise her ivory form, a father's glory
accept her young man, he's come hat in hand.
Let's end this day with a ribald story
of how you've gifted what you once had banned.
Husband mine, relent and let love have sway.
Light the fire let the lovers flame be fanned
let this fine young couple wed without delay.
Merry Christmas to you, Uncle Sam
Leaving the jobless with hat in hand
Congress on a Yuletide roll
Brought an end to public dole --
They’re cooking their goose, not Christmas ham
*Written in 2010 after Congress made cutbacks in social service programs
This is a portrayal of one of my favorite paintings by
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida: Spanish painter 1863 - 1923.
The title of his portait I am writing about is called
"Paseo a orilla del mar" or "Walk on the Beach"
Joaquin’s Girls (Caught on Canvas)
Beside Valencia’s blue sea,
two graceful women walk along.
Their beauty and serenity
could be the lyrics to wind’s song.
Two graceful women walk along.
An artist’s fair and precious pearls
could be the lyrics to wind’s song:
his wife and daughter, Joaquin’s girls.
An artist’s fair and precious pearls,
one with parasol and one with hat in hand,
his wife and daughter, Joaquin’s girls,
in long white dresses, walk the sand.
One with parasol and one with hat in hand,
both, caught on canvas with an artist’s ease,
in long white dresses, walk the sand.
Lace trailing them is billowed by the breeze.
Both caught on canvas with an artist’s ease:
their beauty and serenity!
Lace trailing them is billowed by the breeze
beside Valencia’s blue sea.
Andrea Dietrich/ Nov. 21, 2010
For Paula Swanson's Pantoum Contest
So still the night around her
As perfumed candles softly dance
To the breath of tears now falling
Upon the petals in her hands
Glistening drops of memories
Cascade slowly down her face
As she is taken back through time
To a once upon a place
Where once she was a dancer
Upon a stage dressed in his smile
And blood red roses were an offering
With hat in hand,he showed his style
A nearing stranger in the shadows
He faltered from the light
Tossing blood red roses
Then softly whispering goodnight
These moments were so long ago
Still they're etched within her mind
As trembling fingers caress each petal
Her heart,it falls behind
Seeing is believing
She knows now she must move on
Though beautiful memories remain
The blood red roses have all gone
Somewhere in the stillness
Beyond the beating of her heart
There cries a thousand roses
Blood red and torn apart
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