One More Cow, One More Sow
Another acre cultivated
By a shining plough
The farmer’s son takes off his hat
Wiping the sweat from his brow
Their productive loans are being called in
Lives changed at the financier’s whim
To survive, they’ll work for life and limb
Yet their malnourished bones are wearing thin
The processor purchases milk below cost
And no buyers for our fields of maize
It looks like all hope is now lost
It seems, rarely these days
That honest work ever pays
One More Cow, One More Sow
We are coming closer, acre by acre
Until we use our Starry Plough
Let’s grow a harvest from the soil
And struggle living from our toil
On the radio I heard
A statement that I found absurd.
It described today’s parade
Where tributes are routinely made
To soldiers who have served and died,
Who’ve earned our gratitude and pride.
“These troops fought hard so on this date
We all can meet and celebrate
The freedom that they helped fulfill
By eating burgers from the grill.”
I get that it’s symbolic, yet
No soldier would, I’d surely bet,
Risk life and limb or wounds to heal
So we could barbecue a meal.
That said, we all should take a pause
To think of all who fight because
They do a job and know each breath
Could bring them grief or harm or death.
This holiday, each one who serves
Should get the honor he deserves.
INTERVIEW WITH AN ANGEL
Way back then, Noah had clearly read the signs
Here and now, so very few of us are left
I’m Goliath, frontman for the Philistines
Without my trusty visor, I am bereft
But I am very tall, and not a small ‘un
With his sling, David did seem to be so deft
There are a lot of rumours that you will hear
All about my having risked both life and limb
But no need for pity, nor to shed a tear
Some might say that my ego may be swollen
I was up there once, but I am now down here
As an angel, I am considered fallen
I’m but one of what were many Nephalim
Yet unlikely to ever feature in any hymn
Medal Of Honor Day
March 25,2025
today is a day for heroes
a time to salute the bravest
the ones who went beyond the call
put life and limb on the line
for their comrades and country
let us give thanks
for those Army, Air Force, Navy, Marine
and Coast Guard veterans who
have earned the right to
wear
The Congressional Medal of Honor
I stand here on the corner,
steam of breath
rising into the frozen air,
staring, eyes fixed,
longing to see...
will lights ever emerge
on the horizon of distant hill?
I’ve turned asphalt into cobblestone,
coated in black ice
from beat down polished snow.
A work perfected
by so much effort.
So now I stand and wonder,
who would travel such a road
to where I am?
Who would risk both life and limb?
When you make your path
of isolation sure,
and no one knows what for,
will not all find easier roads
on smooth paved sunlit days?
So I wait
at this hopeless edge of nowhere
with nothing to do
but struggle against the cold,
starring up this road
from the most far distant reach…
of the road that leads back home.
Sounds of medical monitoring machines
Echo in the brain of a comatose marine
Lying on a gurney hospital's bed
Least of all, nothing is said
Those present bow their heads
Praying his not already dead
Eye's flutter, the patient awakes,
from their comatose state
Ironically,
the marine didn't pass through heaven's gate
Risking life and limb then joining us again
I’m sorry, reader.
You’ve simply arrived too late.
All the action has already happened:
I’ve slain the dragon,
stolen the gem,
ran through dagger forests,
sacrificed life and limb,
and no one was even there to see it!
I swam through a witchcrafted lake,
narrowly avoiding confrontation,
but wasn’t so lucky when it came to the snake,
lurking inside a pool of lava.
I’m sorry to say yet again
that you, dear reader, have missed all of this action,
all of it!
Now I am lying amongst wildflowers in a meadow.
War does not determine who is right - only who is left. - Bertrand Russell
It’s a darkness so sad and grim,
Dreams destroyed by the bleakest sins,
It’s more than loss of life and limb
World War isn’t just about who wins
Homes are ruined and lives are wrecked
It’s a darkness so sad and grim,
Death in each shadow or suspect
Was this war started on a whim?
Here at home, we all sing a hymn
For those soldiers who will not live
It’s a darkness so sad and grim,
Warriors, hearts and souls they give
Though we sought peace, our hope was lost
Beneath seas of pain, our souls swim
Glumly fighting despite the cost
It’s a darkness so sad and grim,
I Wish I Were Irish
For the gift of gab, the blarney stone I’d kiss
Upside down by ankles dangling, I’d do this
A story-teller I’d surely be
Risking life and limb ‘tis me
To spew flattery among every laddy and miss
Like the pirate queen Grace O’malley of seafaring clans
Before she sheard her long hair and designed plans
Emerald eyes and strawberry blond locks
Lads swoon by the dozen in flocks
I’ll be in the Dunguaire Castle made by the O’Hans
Plow through O’Conners novel “The Last Hurrah”
Party on Paddy’s Day, shoutin’ Erin Go Braugh!
Feast on authentic Irish lamb stew
While swilling pints of Guinness brew
Peddling my bike up the mountain, of Ballyhoura
I’d sing "Carrickfergus" an Irish folk song
Become a Celtic flutist and chime along
A tenor belts out “Galway Bay”
“Danny boy” heard at the pubs all day
Riverdancing through the heather all night long
in rooms of rainbows
bloomed her powers
some stranger things -
one sweet, soft flower
though daft with graft,
men grilled and nudged
yet, HER book’s cover,
quite poorly judged
through trust in Papa,
risked life and limb
but all those things
she gained from him
were cloaked with lies
and borrowed breath
and brought her naught
but grief and death
those sordid secrets,
she dared disclose
while trickled, red,
from ‘neath her nose
dread demogorgons -
turned useless churl
by one strong, honest,
though modest girl
the wounds ran deep
in that smallish town
but deeper, still,
ran the Upside-Down
that dark realm defied
all the strength of men
yet, was NEVER the match
for one more than …
ten.
My son graduated high school, then moved away.
I couldn't wait for him to start his college life.
He had a full-ride scholarship to pay his way,
But he chose the Marines, which caused a lot of strife.
I couldn't understand why he wanted to fight,
Knowing the dangers that came with being in war.
As his mom, I was scared, but for him, it was right.
He had his reasons and knew what he was fighting for.
He wanted to protect others and this was how
And I had to respect his choice as a grown man.
As his mother, I chose to take a solemn vow.
Though worried at first, I became his biggest fan.
He did his job well and was loved by all that knew him.
I couldn't have been prouder of my only son.
Although everyday he would risk life and limb,
Being a Marine was the best thing he'd ever done.
This poem was written on May 3, 2022,
When I heard the alerts for the next few days.
From 4-6 May 2022, 8-10 Tornadoes,
Hit Oklahoma, Texas and Kansas.
There's the siren that sounds,
That sends fear thru our veins and,
Has us running to hide and cover.
We watch the skies and listen to the TV,
For these falling funnel clouds,
That throw massive buildings and cars,
Like they're tonka trucks and Lego's.
They can level a town like Moore, Oklahoma.
Once in 1999,
Then again in 2013,
Both F-5's , being the most violent.
Yes Oklahoma is Tornado Alley,
But it's no joke.
We don't sit in our front yard,
Waiting for tornadoes,
If we did they would end of life.
We protect life and limb because,
These monsters are unpredictable and evil.
The only thing you wanna do is,
Run, cover and hide and pray,
You make it thru the night.
As I sit in my seat
My life is complete
As I look down to the ground
My target I have not yet found
Nor will it be, at least not by me
Because for me at least
In my ejector seat
That doesn't matter
I get in quick
Drop the bombs
Release the missiles
Stick the afterburners on
I am such a hero back at home, as they blast far below
Taking life and limb of those I don't know
I never see faces
I never see life
I care not for human strife
I see nothing, I don't want to see
As I sit in my seat
Your house may be gone
Your children shattered
But none of that
To me matters
As I am a coward
A Russian coward in my seat
That kills indiscriminately
All of those I never see
So best stay in your cellars
And stay off the streets
As I just hope we never meet
Because you then might just kill me
>>>
When this is over, Putin and his kind need to hang, very slowly..
God bless Ukraine
DAMO
The overkill of rainstorm
with threat of life and limb; trees
swivel, sway, dancing, falling
with wake of devastation rising.
3/23/2022
7/7/7/9
(at risk of life and limb) against scourge of
racial prejudice courtesy
of sharecropper grandparents
whose objection to racial segregation
based on an affront to the will of God,
whereby the young whip smart precocious lad,
(whose impact we now memorialize)
showed his true colorful promise
when a young student at
Liberal Crozer Theological Seminary
in Chester, Pennsylvania
where the yet uncrowned
eminent king came under the influence
of theologian Reinhold Niebuhr,
a classmate of his father's
at Morehouse College
who became a mentor by exposing
his protégée to liberal views of theology
planting the seeds of ardent activism
that gave rise to
The Southern Christian
Leadership Conference (SCLC),
an initial platform
allowing, enabling and providing acclaim
hoisted up by petard
invariably only heightened
(his) posthumous status
as thee most articulate orator
spelling binding the listeners
with his metaphors about his emphatic march
to a promised land where all
men/women could be brothers/sisters
and no person will be judged
by the color of his/her skin
raising morale of many dirt poor
ebony masses to feel a glimmer of hope.
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