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Best Poems Written by Catherine Toward

Below are the all-time best Catherine Toward poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Catherine Toward Poem

Charity

The hungry need food, feed them.
The sick need healing, tend them.
The homeless need shelter, give refuge.
The living don't need your tears,
They need your attention,
Concern,
Action,
You.
YOU are charity

Details | Catherine Toward Poem

I Thought I Knew a Thousand Songs

I thought I knew a thousand songs
The rhythm of a million cuts
The beat of a hundred wrongs
But the refrain that lingers is not as I believed 
Not the drama nor the joy
But loss
A hollow echo of life’s tattoo

I thought I knew a thousand songs
But really there’s only one
And love is all, she said.

Details | Catherine Toward Poem

Ageism

The heart of the matter, is age.

More specifically, my age.

I'm too old to assign blame,

there's no longer any point.

The 'me' there is will have to stay,

growing older, devouring energy,

till the myth of the Mass is complete,

and the first law takes me home.

I have age induced cynicism,

It's fatal to dreams.

Details | Catherine Toward Poem

The Truth, Linguistics, Relativity, and the Doppler Effect

A missed word
An error of syntax
A slip in punctuation

The truth is relative
Your truth is not necessarily mine

Truth told in grief
Truth told in mockery
Does not always remain The Truth

Truth be told
Your truth is not necessarily mine

A breath of gossip
An overheard sentence
The snatched glimpse of a word

Just remember this truth
Your truth is not necessarily mine

(Yes, I'm crap at titles, sorry.)

Details | Catherine Toward Poem

Pseudo Science and the Soul

It’s said, the weight of the soul is 21 grams.
Dr MacDougall told us this.

To measure, he put the dying on the scales.
Dr MacDougall, proving his point
Took some dogs, weighed them too.

Dr MacDougall was a man of science
He weighed the dead, then killed the dogs
Dr MacDougall of Haverhill, Massachusetts.

A man of authority let’s not forget,
Dr MacDougall overlooked what did not suit,
The dead folk lost weight, no dieting involved.

Dr MacDougall was a God fearing man,
On weighing the dogs they’d stayed the same,
Dr MacDougall didn’t need every detail.

Dogs don’t have souls, all knew that.
Dr MacDougall split the difference,
Firm in the knowledge of Gods great design,
Dr MacDougall published his paper.

The weight of the soul is 21 grams.

Details | Catherine Toward Poem

My Two Bad Thoughts For the Day

Bad Thought 1.
Freedom.
Now there's a scary thing.
All the fences removed, no walls to block the Sun.
The future stretches out and...
It's a wasteland.
Wind bites your cheek; light burns your eyes.
You start to think maybe those walls had not been walls at all, but protective arms that guarded, held you safe.

Freedom is not enough.
But what is ?
Love?
Money?
Power?
Not enough.
Love is transient, burns you even when it's good, a punishment for weakness.
Money buys you more nothings.
Power is an illusion; there's always someone more powerful than you.
In the end is just death and it's all over, where's the point in that?
Freedom is not enough.



Bad Thought 2.

Retribution...
We can take them down, the valueless powerful ones who hold us in a world of convenient headlines and cute meme philosophies
But we could nibble like mice at their foundations, eat away the status quo.
All we need is the sneaky courage to seek revenge for their greed, and replace it with our own.

Details | Catherine Toward Poem

Violet May Is Slipping Away

Violet May is slipping away...
Gentle breaths are growing shallow
Eyes tired of seeing, fade to dim
Once agile fingers now bent
Swan necks dipping on a sheet

Sergeant Vi inspired loyalty
Time was her voice was certain
Square bashing shy young WRAC's
Preparing them for war

Next a mother of a 'New Elizabethan'
Builder of a brighter world
Hope for humankind was nurtured
Secure in semidetached convictions

But time stole the memories
Callous thief that he is
Took strength and purpose too
And pain replaced certainties

And now, Violet May is slipping away...

Details | Catherine Toward Poem

I Missed Mothers Day Again

The DNA in our mothers cells

gloriously connects us all,

though injudiciously denied,

the demonstrated evidence ignored.

But that denial serves no one well,

brings only bitter tears,

allows absolution for avarice,

leaves all in troubled houses.

Mothers must have the will to persevere,

hearts that protest wrongs,

the wit to know lies,

and speak clear their hidden realities.

But still we hold to the half-truths

of expedient jealous traditions,

raise soaring barricades to simple reason,

perjure even our future world.

Mothers Day comes when we stop,

question the tales making us worthy,

and the foreigner less than human,

THAT will be our Mothers Day.

Details | Catherine Toward Poem

Red Top Reality

There it is, the headline that kills

the truth in four column inches.

More pictures on page two

(Tits opposite)


Perverts and politicians beware,

the righteous curers of all public ills 

have you in their telephoto sights

(Privacy not an option)


You're not a politician or a pervert?

What's the difference?

It's dirt, that's all that counts

(Take the money and run)

Details | Catherine Toward Poem

Normal

Normal is the space between horror realised and glory assumed, when the lust of the eye is calmed and briefly quenched by complacency.

Normal is the monent between remembering and forgetting the evil done in the name of good, when pride and selfrighteousness overwhelms compassion and decency.

Normal is the dreaming season before the swell of power and arrogance takes us once more to the very edge of hope, then topples us into war.

Normal is the waiting time.