"Reach high, for stars lie hidden in you. Dream deep, for every dream precedes the goal."
Rabindranath Tagore
Soul seeks splendor, sweetly sent stream.
Destiny delivers drab dismal dream.
Dictating, dawn's dew delight.
Raptures reminisce rivalled respite.
Flowers forever freed.
Sycamore scents send somber seed.
Supreme silence, so softly swept.
Screens stretched across the Modern World,
rivalling our natural vision.
Eyes, lenses, and optic nerves strained
Retinas, pupils, irises, tears.
Most affected?
A Feast of Fatigued Eyes
that rivalled ancient scribes' affliction
Eyes as interfaces
Eyes as digital portals
Eyes, the sacrifice given to Progress' children
She slipped from among us
in search of good hummus,
like a whispery breeze
at the scent of chickpeas;
escapes for tahini
rivalled old Houdini.
Her nose for good cumin
was simply inhuman,
her longings, appeasing
on lemony squeezings.
She never found fault
with a good pink rock salt,
and oft was caught splurging
on fine extra virgin.
But she went on a bender,
took a shine to a blender,
sliced her tongue on that trough,
and her hum is still off…
France is now ruled by Macroniens,
A species of urban boboniens,
Passably bright,
Not too far Right,
But perhaps just the latest d….d phonyens.
To keep France in order, the PoF
Must avoid moves might put them off :
An appeal to the Centre
Is a smart way to enter,
But too motley his triumph to bring off.
Credit, and how ! where credit is due,
Macron’s talent is rivalled by few.
He’s redrawn for the times
The political lines,
Like Bonaparte, de Gaulle and their crew.
His hold on power is complete,
Jupiter with cast hyper-elite.
No proles are in sight,
Now that can’t be right,
They may come to think he’s a cheat.
Used to ride my bike every morning
Five miles round our complex
Got pretty high from this morning workout
It even rivalled good sex
Okay, okay, I'm gonna take that back
After thoughtful consideration
What was I thinking to say such a thing
But need both in moderation
Especially now that I'm a senior citizen
This bod has trouble getting up
And I really mean that quite literally, friends
Think young but this guy's no pup
Ever heard of someone dying during sex?
I suppose it's happened before
Especially if the sex is very rambunctious
And you both wind up on the floor
How amazing if that was your last act
Before reaching the Pearly Gates up there
Need to tidy up your appearance though
Put your pants on and straighten your hair
Used to ride my bike every morning
But that's now a thing of the past
Lucky to put my two feet in my pants
Without falling down on my ass!
© Jack Ellison 2013
We had come a long way from the lemonade days,
Watching the crisp off-white fizz ebb and flow against the tall sides of our glasses
Dribbling over our fingernails, as we dozed in the hammocks
That smiled between the great oak trees of his garden
And his future boomed out in huge round bubbles
That bounced between the branches
Bursting into intricate fizzy webs of retirement plans
Wrap around porches
Shiny vintage cars
And a ship
A great thing that cast shadows that rivalled the waves it would sail
Now something flat and dull creeps over grey sands
Stains dark the toes of my grandfather’s suede shoes
As he peers down at a wooden dream
That rocks sleepily
Its oars crossed like stubborn arms
His great face, flat and grey like a newly crumbled cliff,
His eyes small and dark like caves
He takes my hand
And takes me home.
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