small is good
There are not many big elephants left on the savannah
Near the houses where I live elephants are a bit smaller
nature did this for them to survive big game hunters
like kings, who think killing big animals is masculine
like having a secret mistress, but not too concealed
because if no one knows, why bother?
The small elephants that have yet to get a Latin name
like Loxdonta africana, have a tiny tusk not bigger than
than a bull's horn and feet too tiny to be made into an umbrella holder, but are sweeter looking, smell sweet, and have adorable eyes, their ears the size a dog's
flapping when the wind is strong.
Why should I care for the well-being of animals when
so many humans, like in Gaza have bombs thrown onto
their homes killing the children who like the elephants near my house only think of playing truants and eat
slices of bread with sugar on.
The Palestine people could have done as my elephants did, be docile to the people who destroyed their homes
be picturesque, when begging for food at the wayside
But no, they insist on getting their Savannah and as a result of this stubborn attitude only have themselves to blame when Nakba happens
Categories:
truants, 6th grade, beach, dance,
Form: Blank verse
On the side of a path branching off from the road
expectations of glorious guilt mount
makeshift trenches housing truants, anxiously counting
the seconds 'til school officers call off the hunt...
Free at last at 9:30 to pursue puerile passions
constructing lean-tos in trees, small campsites nearby
They'd burn down the bush in a heartbeat if only
their consciences would forget how to sigh
Categories:
truants, absence, america, boy, immigration,
Form: Rhyme
We went to different schools… together
walked on opposite sides of a street
that constituted an invisible border.
There were differences…..but not really.
We walked slowly, as if to spend time together,
assessing the others clothing, shoes, gait.
Eye contact was forbidden
as we had been warned…..about them
as they….about us.
Smiles were fleeting sorties into danger.
We found, as children do,
ways to challenge the guardians
a quickened pace….leading to
a foot race….a breaking from the norm,
a joyously shared connection
of shouts and flashing glances.
I am not sure who won the “race”,
I think we all did…us kids….truants
in the school of ancestral fears,
breaking the barrier of a paved border
streaking toward the finish line
stretched between two churches.
John G. Lawless
©9/12/2019
Categories:
truants, discrimination, growing up, innocence,
Form: Free verse
I’LL NEVER FORGET WHAT’S HIS NAME
We went to different schools… together
walked on opposite sides of a street
that constituted an invisible border.
There were differences…..but not really.
We walked slowly, as if to spend time together,
assessing the others clothing, shoes, gait.
Eye contact was forbidden
as we had been warned…..about them
as they….about us.
Smiles were fleeting sorties into danger.
We found, as children do,
ways to challenge the guardians
a quickened pace….leading to
a foot race….a breaking from the norm,
a joyously shared connection
of shouts and flashing glances.
I am not sure who won the “race”,
I think we all did…us kids….truants
in the school of ancestral fears,
breaking the barrier of a paved border
streaking toward the finish line
stretched between two churches.
John G. Lawless
©9/12/2019
Categories:
truants, childhood, children, innocence, prejudice,
Form: Free verse
Thunderous thoughts roil synaptic valleys
truants - roaming imagination’s alleys
conjuring confusion’s consternation
drum rolls demanding participation
Flashes of brilliance etched upon ether
seeking light’s darkness but finding neither
rumbles of reason stumbling blindly
fleeing a fear ahead and behind me
Notions of knowledge exposed to the light
adrift on the wind of thought’s string-less kite
rising and falling on foible and whim
mocking the truth as life’s pseudonym
Stark white is the darkness taunting the pen
awaken your thunder and write again.
John G. Lawless
©6/29/2019
Categories:
truants, imagery, inspiration, muse, writing,
Form: Sonnet
The sturdy single lady,
who triumphantly raised her 3 kids;
Though her path was dark and shady,
her aim was so profound and lucid.
If not her
then who
deserves the mother's day?
The jovial teacher and mentor,
who edified her lovable students,
in a stalwart way & so that emotional rapport
and so no haters and no truants.
If not her
then who
deserves the teacher's day?
The exemplary independent woman,
who toiled all alone amidst the chaos,
whose life a pristine path, one should zoom in,
yet she never boasted of and never grouched.
The self made woman, I revere,
who stood on her own feet,
until she drew her last breathe,
both literally and figuratively
If not her
then who
deserves the women's day?
A tribute to my grandmother who died last Sunday. She worked as a teacher and got retired before 27 years. Still, the school she worked was declared as a holiday as a mark of respect on the day she died.
Categories:
truants, grandmother, tribute,
Form: Free verse
Poetry’s
For fags
For truants
And miscreants
And yes CS
Even you
Now I know
It’s not true
With 40,000 views
Categories:
truants, america, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Darken clouds swarm, twisting,
Intertwining giants mass,
Funneling truants blend.
A moving death storm descends,
Without warming it begins.
An eerie silence lingers,
Eluding detection.
Swiftly, comes the wind of a
Thousand screams,
Gripes ripping apart mother earth.
Faster, faster like a speeding train,
No place to hide nowhere to run.
Rubles ruins, torn flesh,
Mangled metal.
Broken shards scattered across,
Baron plains.
Carnage, wreckage sisters to fate,
Utterly torn apart by mutual rage,
Destroys all.
Humanities sorrow reflects,
Troubled skies.
Desperation's tears shiver through,
Heaven's grate.
The path of destruction can never,
Be undone.
But as fast as it came it disappears.
Yet its mark litters every inch of,
Blacken ground.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
truants, imagery, imagination, inspirational, international,
Form: Free verse
At the traffic dodged broken barrier
My clown eclipses pinholes gander
Reeked in the phallic sundust
Pouring out in putrid urgencies
Human beams of ghastly thought
Clinging to lucrative belly rings
Bastion of glowing hope tied to rope
Losing abundance in American swamps
As we creek our bells across the world
Drowning coca cola babies all the same
Puns, cliques, and gospel truants
I am fearless to step on statues
To heckle hairdos and smeckle bear feuds
Categories:
truants, animals, business,
Form: Free verse