Patient activist
is an oxymoron twist
delaying all change.
Category Archives: POETRY
THE FROST OF WAR
Brazen bronze seedbeds
accosted by frozen brown bombs,
following an early frost,
when flowers freeze before
leaves and people fall,
their lively colors trapped
still vibrant and glowing,
as if they are not dead after all.
Broken boards and barren stalls
line the barns left as fallow
as the fields where bombs have fallen.
Images so serene and spare
burn the sockets in despair
that life so precious
no longer has a place
among this not-so-human race.
The season of death and dying
has descended and too many dreams
have been up-ended.
Bursts of air throw up clods of dirt
upon the nations of the earth
burying every sound of mirth
amidst the screams of lasting horror.
And yet we know that Spring will come
after this winter of solemn sorrow.
The best we can do is hope
for a better tomorrow.
So it has ever been
and hopefully,
so it shall be
if only we
can survive
the winter
and war’s demise.
Filed under POETRY
WOMEN
Women are a sisterhood of might,
warriors with truth in sight
who love with lust and passion
and in ecstasy’s delight.
Women are the robins of the nests,
nurturers warming all within their light
who love with care and comfort
and in blossoming insight.
Women are the lions in dark night,
protectors with fierce might
who love with strength and power
and guarantee our rights.
Filed under POETRY
MEMORIES
The hummers have left with the long sunny days.
Frost settled down and intends to stay.
All that is left of the hummingbirds feeding in my yard
are memories of their daily visits and aeronautic repertoire.
I miss their dancing forms as they move from flower to flower.
I am left with cloudy days that drag out lonely hours.
Filed under POETRY, Uncategorized
DEBRIS PILES
When does rescue become recovery;
and, recovery become repair and restoration?
How much time do we grant to discover life?
How fast do we move beyond such inquiry?
And if we fail to take the time,
do we risk building our lives upon the dead?
How much have we lost in moving too soon,
before we discovered the foundation
upon which our lives have been built?
Rescue workers scramble over Floridian piles of debris.
As we scramble over the piles of debris in our own lives.
For those who take time to dig deep
our way becomes clearer, cleaner, more promising.
Understandable to fear what we may find amidst the debris.
More fearful, to remain afraid, and never discover
what lies beneath our surface that we might build stronger lives.
Filed under POETRY
ANOTHER MISSILE CRISIS
I still remember the days of the Cuban Missile Crisis as if they were yesterday.
I still recall the look on Sister’s face as she read the memo she soon shared and displayed.
Duck and cover had no place among the wizened nuns opposed to fools at play.
Instead, we gathered in the church. Before the altar we knelt and prayed.
Then, we were sent home to be with our families, expecting missiles to fly our way.
I hurried and ran all the way home, tripping over myself, that frightening day.
Those were the days of bomb shelters dug in backyards where kids played.
Not in our yard, Dad explained. Even if we survived nuclear radiation in the bombs first hits
we would remain below for years until it was safe to come above ground, only to see
destruction all around, no food nor water safe, no crops nor animals, just empty space.
What good would such survival be? Better to die, he said,… immediately.
And so we children knew the new reality that life was under constant threat each day.
Then, Kennedy forced the Russians away from our back door until another day.
Russia has not stayed away from solemn threats to have its say and make us pay
for its failed experiment in communism as democracy gained greater sway.
China, North Korea and Iran eager to join in the latest fray.
This is nothing new, nothing unseen before. There has always been war.
Always a need to defend our doors. But, impossible to shutter doors to nuclear war.
Greed for power and wealth overcomes sanity in communism or democracy.
This war has two fronts, as all wars do: a home-front, and one off-shore.
October has returned with threats that November elections might correct.
But, once again, I am unsure if we have the guts to face down the clowns,
who play us like their fake pianos; and to shove them out of the ring, and out the door.
No duck and cover for me. I love my democracy. I will stand in the open forevermore.
I will never give in to bullies and fear. I shall stand firm and pray. Then, I shall vote.
With you by my side, we shall endure. Of this, fellow citizens, I am sure.
Filed under POETRY
SPINNING OUT OF CONTROL
I will not write one more word
other than those which rise on their own,
without my preset notions of what is real.
I see a world spinning out of control,
a globe spun by frantic hands on its curves.
It sits atop the desks of politicians, bankers and CEOs.
Perhaps the world merely sits in its place
and it is we who spin tales and define its space.
Perhaps it is we who determine earth’s pace.
Perhaps Earth is the mother telling us
“Keep your hands to yourself.”
“Leave your brother and sister alone.”
“Stop causing trouble.”
Perhaps it we who are spinning
out of control.
Filed under POETRY
LISTENING TO MOTHER EARTH
Earth, our Mother, in so many ways
never rests, as good mothers everywhere,
until her children are safe
and able to become their very best.
Earth streams winds seldom seen
in ages past, to cleanse the air we breathe
of toxic chemicals and toxic thoughts,
too often ignored until humanity seethes
with anger torn from shattered dreams.
Earth’s tears drown our shores,
our over-run rivers and streams swollen
beyond the banks of civility and decency,
spreading across villages and cities.
We watch earth’s loving children join hands
to help those caught within the bands
of hatred fueled by power and greed,
furthered and supported by religious creed
distorted by self-indulgent need
to retain a control it never had;
dividing the world into good and bad,
which Mother Earth understands
could destroy her children and leave her all alone.
With Mother Earth we make our stand to secure
a future of loving kindness for all her children,
of every kind. Rock, wind, water and fire we implore
have patience with us as we try to create
a world right, not might, rules once more.
Filed under POETRY
OCTOBER SKIES
Brace your self for a bumpy ride.
October suns glide and slide
across the brow, beneath the feet
of creatures running to complete
the fattening tasks needed to compete
with coming cold as sun retreats.
Winds blow swift above, and heavy below
laden with ice and crystal snow
that melts as it falls through warm air below.
Ice-cold wind, ice-cold rain
on too-short days when sun cannot remain
long enough to lift corners of lips into smiles
of true delight as we prepare for winter nights.
Grab a hot toddy, hot chocolate too.
Get out the boots and sleds that once flew
down hills slick with sleet in childhood delight.
Be prepared to cheer and hoot sun’s appearance
as dark skies and cold are put on clearance.
Like a good salesman I beg you to buy
the wondrous beauty of an October sky.
Filed under POETRY
PLANTING TULIPS
The Holland bulbs are on their way they say.
Soon, before first frost, I shall lift the plants
which bloom late to make space below
for tulip bulbs to settle in and grow.
In early spring tulips’ color may appear
unless squirrels discover my perfidy
in hiding the bulbs from their discovery
and move them as their own yard decor.
The squirrels and I often play such games.
Neither of us keeping score.
Abundant life means we both partake
of the joys of sharing garden space.
Squirrels, rabbits skunks and chipmunks
galore dance along to the garden’s birdsong
as I sit and read beneath a shade tree
until Autumn leaves fall and frost covers my seat,
and threatens my icy feet to slide under me.
First snows are already on my mind these cold mornings.
The geese fattening by the ponds give fair warning
that Fall’s falling temperatures foretell
Winter will soon arrive to spell my days outside.
I shall retreat inside to read by the fireside
awaiting the days those tulips arise.
Filed under POETRY
annarino writes 