The headlights of a tractor drew my great-grandfather to his death.
Anglerfish of steel, power take-off a maddening buzz –
Was the barn dark? Could he see the terrible twisting machine?
And did he see it, in the instant before the ordeal
The forty days’ hellish road ahead before he reached heaven?
Did the lonesome valley stretch out before him in the gleam of the wrenching clamor,
And did he lean out and see the glow at its end?
Shriek and wail, slam and crunch.
Did the dying man see far?
And would it have been better, after all, to know what would be coming?
From plowshare to fig tree such a divide, better not to know, I think.
Certainly better for my uncle, who found him there.
Categories:
plowshare, allusion, death, light, violence,
Form: Free verse
What’s of the eyes if not to see -
a darkness on the land,
perpetuated by a world
that will not understand.
What’s of the ears if not to hear -
a silence through the night.
A deafness born of leaders with
no care of what is right.
What’s of the lips if not to speak -
a fading muffled voice,
drowned out by those in power who
refuse the people’s choice.
What’s of the hands if not to touch -
a plowshare turned to sword,
held high into the east winds where
the dregs of wrath are stored.
What’s of the heart if not to feel -
an answer bathed in tears
that falls as rain on blood-stained soil…
unchanged throughout the years.
Categories:
plowshare, life, political, war,
Form: Rhyme
. for public domain
We forget more wars than we fight,
and sooner the warriors, who fade from the Light;
and the stories we tell,
those who stood, those who fell,
go gentle into Dylan's Good Night.
War as much as seek peace.
Inherit the earth, or fight for a piece.
Wherever we dwell,
Heaven, Earth, or Hell,
our Fate, always war, always peace.
So beat the sword to a plowshare,
and harvest the fruit for feast days;
but when the foes come
to devour your young,
beat plowshares into swords and fight.
Categories:
plowshare, courage, war,
Form: Limerick
There seems little hope when the tires won't hold air.
Did God forsake us somewhere,
along the long and dusty path?
you and I, got wires crossed in despair...
left to suffer this day alone,
in His wrath.
Oh lord..
I carry my hammer low, lower still..
my nails all crooked,
torn away from oaken boards.
The back forty waylaid,
in early dawn's frost.
Still remembering strength..
that faltered, when all hope
seemed lost.
Don't tread on me heard once in the wind's voice.
The plowshare's greying field,
left forgotten and untilled,
so little left of youth's free choice.
Categories:
plowshare, lost, november,
Form: Rhyme
{continued 2of2}...
the third girl took her
bullet reluctantly but
Mr. Mohammed Merah believes
in an eye for an eye
i wonder if Mr. Muhammad Wazir
would have preferred to take
his farming plowshare,
beat it into a sword
and bring writhing attrition
to still more children.
i think...i prefer to think,
that Mr. Muhammad Wazir, 35,
of Panjwai, Afganistan,
would tell Mr. Mohammed Merah, 24,
of Toulouse, France
that children are innocent
not just in God's eyes,
but in truth, in his too,
that killing only begets more killing
Alas, it is too late for Merah's merit,
and the sky still shines blue
© Goode Guy 2012-03-21
http://www.npr.org/2012/03/20/148974952/afghan-farmer-lost-11-relatives-in-shooting-rampage
http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2012/03/20/148976984/all-my-dreams-are-buried-under-a-pile-of-dust-now-says-grieving-afghan?ft=1&f=1001
http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2012/03/21/149080247/sifting-through-what-we-know-about-the-french-slaying-suspect
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052702304636404577294632810920116.html?mod=googlenews_wsj
Categories:
plowshare, family, introspection, life, loss,
Form: Narrative
could it be the world's not half as dark
as fear would have it seem
for all we know it may be only-
the invention of a dream
i ask you is it fair to say-
that things will never change
nor wise indeed to theorize
that our fate is prearranged
perhaps accord will soon afford -
the earth to live in peace
when sword turns into plowshare
and all the wars will cease
and so mankind will have a mind-
to give good sense a try
yeah right,good luck with that-
when pigs learn how to fly!
Categories:
plowshare, allegory
Form: Verse