Should I die today,
I trust that you’ll imagine
All the things I’d have to say.
Except, perhaps, I love you.
Quatrain
Questions of Heroes and Saints
Do heroes have to be perfect
in order to earn our respect?
Must they be free from all blemish?
Is that what we’ve come to expect?
How much stain, how much tarnish,
how much of a character blemish
can be glossed over by splashing
on coats of whitewash and varnish
before the seething and gnashing
of the oppressed leads to the trashing
of monument to those held dear
in eruptions of violent clashing?
The answers, my friends, are clear.
Let’s open our ears and try to hear
the history of brutal oppression
that cause so many to live in fear.
Since if we can’t learn this lesson
we’ll lose more than an election!
Folks, it’s high time to reject
this notion that every hero warrants beatification!
Notwithstanding, lest we offend them,
What should the statute of limitations be
on gross insensitivity?
That answer depends, it’s plain to see
on who was insensitive; thee, or me!
Await Not The Reaper
Must we wait ’til death, is virtually on hand
To utter unto those we love, all the truths demise demands?
Oh! Would not the world, grow more radiant with peace
If today we share our, distant future, deathbed speech?
Wispy Sky Lines
Nary a cloud of godly making
Grace this frigid evening sky
Only streaks of earthly making
Left by humans rushing by.
Halfway
Halfway through the morning
And the cruise control’s still on.
Time to disconnect the auto-pilot
And re-engage with life.
Imponderables
If blades of spinning fans
Can gather this much dross,
Why can’t rolling stones
Gather just a little moss?
Play These Cards
Why must we, so selfishly
Mourn the cards we didn’t get
Rather than revelling in
Every moment ‘fore we split?
Life comes with no guarentees;
Very sad, but it is true.
Let’s celebrate the hand we have
Before our journey here is through.
Don’t worry what tomorrow brings,
We truly have no way to tell.
We’ve got this now and memories
Of times together, me and you.
Let’s not waste a chip on grief
For what remains inside that shoe,
If we try to hedge this bet
We rob ourselves, both me and you.
Let’s play this hand that we’ve been dealt,
Revel in this very now
Without a thought for for what’s at stake
The pot’s still growing, anyhow!
Reflections on an Image #1
“A Summer’s Idyll”
A lonely chair awaits
By a fountain splashing
For a reader to arrive
With some children laughing.
That scarlet Acer
Frames this place
Where life assumes
A slower pace.
He sits reading in the sun
Basking like a lizard,
While the children swirl about
Like snowflakes in a blizzard.
The thrum of distant mowers
Punctuate the day
And saturates the air
With scents of fresh cut hay.
It’s all a balm for racing thoughts
But shadows slowly lengthen;
Surliness replaces joy
In spite of every effort taken
And thus, this day,
Its courses run,
Becomes an idyll;
A dream of fun.
Foxfires’ Promise
This is not damnation’s omen
Writ in fire ‘cross the sky
No invitation to perdition
No harbinger we all shall die.
Rather Gaia’s verdant curtain
Holding back the dragon’s breath
The only thing that’s truly certain
To save us all from horrid death.
So when you see the sky aglow
Do not fear the end is nigh
Revel, rather, in the show;
Auroral fire from on high.
Peace in Flight
On this frigid morning,
I don’t even have to try,
To find the face of Buddha
Scrawled across the ice blue sky.
Lidded eyes in quiet contentment,
A ghostly Mona Lisa smile,
Lingers there in frozen heaven,
Visible, for many a mile.
An offered peaceful benediction
To morning travelers on the fly,
Writ on the vault, without intent,
By other travelers flying by.
Incongruous Noises
Here I perch, high above,
On this wire, seeking love.
I’m not sad, that’s just my cry:
I’m a Mourning Dove.
Finding Signs
There’s a Demon in my cabbage!
It’s very scary, yet it’s true.
I’m sure that if you take a look,
you’ll surely see it too.
A Benediction of Hope
May your joys outnumber your sorrows.
May your safety exceed your risk.
May you turn from yesterday to face tomorrow.
May your anger be drowned in your bliss.
Aroil in Pain 