***Caveat lector: This piece may very well "ruffle" a few feathers, and I'm sorry about that, guys.***
The female realm has a mysterious equality
Where women share an odd intimacy
Concerning home, and children, and men.
Somehow they seem to know
That what they do is worthwhile
And makes all the difference to everyone.
Whereas men, thinking themselves
The calm center of everything,
Set about the business
Of quietly and confidently
Sorting right from wrong,
And good from bad,
With a cheerful, but naïve,
Masculine conviction that what they do
Is somehow worth the effort
And will make, in the end,
The slightest bit of difference to anyone.
Easter Reading
In Lima – Peru- a hippo was pulling the tram car with
its best friend, a water buffalo. They had ended up
here, far from Africa, after the great flood ebbed and
had been blessed with eternal life, only being mere
animals, they didn´t know this. In Lima, no one made
a big issue of this, but when the wider world knew
and some adventurers set about trying to kill the pair,
in vain, the Lima people took another look, especially
since the church thought they were the devil´s own
handiwork, god would never have allowed beasts
besting man. Angry people took to hurling mud and
stones at the animals, also calling them rude names.
From the mountain came a man dressed in white
burnoose, and spoke to the people:
“For years, you respected my creation, the hippo
the water buffalo, with respect and care, I thought
well of you and decided that the archbishop of Lima,
when the time was right, would be the new pope, but you
have disappointed me greatly, hence the new pope
will be the archbishop of Buenos Aires, Argentina”.
The man, in white burnoose, paused and said
“It is also the time you electrified the tram system.”
It’s one thing to be senile
and lie in your own drool.
It’s another to be President
and be that droolin’ fool.
So ask yourself, America,
of all the President’s men…
who was runnin’ the country
signin’ with Joe’s autopen?
Note: To those who have eyes it was obvious that Sleepy Joe wasn’t just sleepy but in cognitive decline before he was even elected President by supposedly receiving 80 million plus votes. He wasn’t fit to run a lemonade stand but the media convinced you he was on top of his game lol. Joe wasn’t physically or mentally up to the job and so his Democratic masters and media overlords set about carrying out the great subterfuge that he was in charge. They stage managed every event and choreographed his every utterance until he inevitably went off script and his handlers (carers) had to shut him down.
So the next time some loony tune tells you that Elon Musk has too much power for an unelected member of Congress just remember the White House for four years under grifter Joe Biden was run by unelected bureaucrats. Yep, the country was ruled by President Autopen. Let that sink in.
(Battle of Antietam, Sharpsburg, Maryland, September 17, 1862; 2,100 Union dead, 1550 Confederate dead)
the day September seventeenth
in eighteen sixty-two
found stalks of corn in Maryland
grown high as horses' heads
while rebel soldiers clad in gray,
invaders to this place,
stood vigil in dawn's wispy mists
as quiet Sharpsburg slept
when from the creek Antietam
charged boldly Stars-and-Stripes
so all-day-through fierce battle raged
in pasture, corn, and road
till sunset quelled the violence,
loud cannon-thunder ebbed,
replaced by floods of helpless moans
from maimed and wounded men
while from the carnage rebels skulked
across Potomac's flow
to breathe their safe Virginia air
as blue-clad victors wept
and set about the burials
of dead, both gray and blue,
three-thousand plus six hundred more
American souls lost
that day, September seventeenth,
in eighteen sixty-two.
To climb Jacob’s ladder
became an ambition
of the earth entity
non-existent.
The object
assuming an ego
took itself to be real
and so set about it’s task.
Following holy scriptures
kneeling before idols
brought no solace
to its heart.
Exhausted
and in despair
surrendering doership
its pure heart invoked bliss.
Identity itself the blockage
a veil which when fell
revealed the light
of true Self.
An Ogre is mean, an Ogre is ugly
An Ogre is smelly, grumpy and gruffly.
They are so big they can block out the sun
If you ever do hear one it's better to run.
Some want to eat you or keep you as slaves
Others will make you clean their old caves.
Apart from Serog who has never been mean
He is good, kind and friendly and only fifteen.
Wise for his age and peaceful is he
Has many friends including a bee.
But didn't like the meanness he saw
So set about to make kindness a law.
Meetings were held and letters were wrote
Hoping to persuade each Ogre to vote.
Niceness was shown and what kindness can do
Towards people, an a Ogre, an a reader (that's you)
Each Ogre was shown how to smile, but that took a while
Because it's never been their natural style.
They learnt how to be helpful, gentle and careful
And started to feel better and therefore successful.
An Ogre is friendly an Ogre is fine
An Ogre can smile and even queue in a line.
An Ogre won't eat you they now eat their greens
But an Ogre can be windy after eating baked beans.
Contest Name Writing Challenge 'O' Words
Sponsor Constance La France
24.03.23
Some called him Bacchus, some Dionysus:
god of the grape-harvest, winemaking, fruit.
Giver of joy, dispenser of sorrow,
famous for orgies, bacchantes recruits…
Enter King Midas, ruler of Phrygia
encountered a peasant, drunk on much wine.
Fed, entertained him, showed much hospitality;
Bacchus’ old mentor, returned in due time.
Bacchus, in gratitude, granted a wish;
everything Midas touched turned into gold.
Overjoyed, set about transforming all he saw;
gift became curse with his food hard and cold.
Some say the king went back to Dionysus,
pleaded the effects of the spell be reversed.
Others say Midas succumbed to insanity,
wasting away as his hunger grew worse.
Wish not for changes to your circumstances;
perilous dangers await, unforeseen.
Your best intentions end up being flushed;
that’s what the Reverse Midas Touch truly means.
----------
for the This or That, Vol 15 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Edward Ibeh
written on 1/14/23
We were not there
to welcome them home
but came later in the long
evenings when nightmares
ravaged their sleep. Peace
had walled in the horrors
hiding in the heads of good men.
Big blocks gave room
for games and unfenced spaces
weakened what had, in hard times,
glued generations together.
No authority held sway
over an open sky. Man rode
high in the territories of the gods.
Distant wars festered
under the gaze of cameras
and played out each night
in black and white until souls,
calloused by the count,
sought salvation in a haze
of chants and love.
Economics rescued us
and gave a pure purpose
to our lives. Sober, swollen
with cliches we set about
our sacred task
to feed the appetites
of a rampant want.
We argued our exemption
from the sins of common man
and bequeathed to others
the burden of our waste.
Reason was traded for a job
or abandoned to the promised
clean up by a coming god.
They now talk of plans
to colonize Mars as a lifeboat
in case extinction comes to pass.
I sit and watch a bloodshot sun
sink into the waters of the bay
and worry about how long
my roses will last.
Overwhelmingly fragile life is,
It often knocked us down on our knees.
Facing the daybreak has been exceedingly petrifying
where to rise where to set?
Do I even belong here?
A loner I've always been.
From million miles, I shot the star yet fall on lion mouth
there's scarcity of rooms to procure all that's hurting,
All that's maiming.
then what's left is all bogus,
A goal of its own to attain
winning or losing I am on the race.
Even so, as I set about to stretch my wings and waggle
No longer could I hobble around.
while all I own is learning to recline on Jesus,
the Master of all the masters
supersede the unfathomable vagueness,
rose brighter when all I comprehend is a grey of tilted shades
He truly is my superhero for life.
The sun is struggling to make an appearance,
To break through thick blankets of dark clouds
Early spring flowers note its disappearance,
Observing the day garbed in bleak shrouds.
Breaking through thick blankets of dark clouds
Mother Nature suggests waiting a day or so
Observing the day garbed in bleak shrouds,
Reminding us this is how April weather can go.
Mother Nature suggests waiting a day or so
Spring promising clear days of sunshine ahead
Reminding us this is how April weather can go,
When I first awakened I felt like staying in bed!
Spring promising clear days of sunshine ahead,
My thoughts rejuvenated, in a positive vein
My day will not be ruled by what’s overhead,
And those early spring flowers do need the rain.
My thoughts rejuvenated, in a positive vein,
I set about making the day brighter with attitude
And those early spring flowers do need the rain
So, I feel much better, choosing not to brood.
I set about making the day brighter with attitude
So, I feel much better, choosing not to brood.
written April 5, 2022
[modified with a repeated
couplet ending]
If every day
you set about
to dig a little trench,
and though the end
is far away,
you carve another inch,
and all the while,
enjoy the craft,
admire the progress made,
that length of trench
will melt away:
persistent toil, well paid.
Please consider the tone of your voice, I say
For I am not in the mood for ill-considered sarcasm,
For it’s been a while since I heard a jackass bray.
Words can slice through the heart, emotions flay
Send one’s warm feelings into a deep, dark chasm,
Please consider the tone of your voice, I say.
I suppose I might be more tolerant another day,
But in my present state of mind, I have no enthusiasm
For it’s been a while since I heard a jackass bray.
You say you merely tease, it’s just your way to play,
But the nastiness of your words provokes a spasm
Please consider the tone of your voice, I say.
No one likes their sunny day turned a gloomy gray
Or feel their self-worth is reduced to protoplasm,
For it’s been a while since I heard a jackass bray.
Would you like if I set about your nerves to fray?
And, then told you it was in your mind a phantasm
Please consider the tone of your voice, I say,
For it’s been a while since I heard a jackass bray!
written March 2, 2022
Over in the meadowland the birds are singing
Warm weather portends the returning of spring
The bees have set about their pollen bringing.
Hopeful, bright spring days with excitement tingling
Cause our voices to shout out and lustily sing,
Over in the meadowland the birds are singing
While with glee my life’s breath is mingling
So happy I feel like life is gaudy glitter and bling
The bees have set about their pollen bringing.
Spring to me reminds of Barnum and Ringling
The colorful memories of childhood bring
Over in the meadowland the birds are singing.
I can reminisce about the high school flinging
The loss of my first love that brought a sting,
The bees have set about their pollen bringing.
The season of spring brings to me self-healing
More than anything else, a welcoming thing,
The bees have set about their pollen bringing
Over in the meadowland the birds are singing.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
edited April 7, 2022
written January 21, 2022
for "Springtime Villanelle" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Sotto Poet
I HAVE MY REASONS
You’ve given me six lines, no more,
To list the things I love you for.
It’s not much time, you must agree,
To tell you what you mean to me.
And so, I’d better set about the task
Er … sorry dear, what did you ask?
9th November 2021
Bite Size Poem No. 26 poetry contest
Sponsor - Line Gautier
Several times I heard her knocking,
A noise I first found very shocking
Still it lingered,
‘Til I fingered
Her coral broach around my neck,
Thought I would be a total wreck
It gave me solace,
A renewed promise
When I set about making rhymes
I knew she was very near these times,
And seeking my loving attention
This I must not fail to mention.
written October 8, 2021
Related Poems