Tag Archives: elections

SILENCE

Photo by PUSCAU DANIEL FLORIN on Pexels.com

The walk around the neighborhood is strangely silent.

Cicadas have ceased their songs of warning.

Birds flock south on gentle winds 

leaving the yard yearning for music.

Butterflies still sing with quiet wings 

few can hear.

Gnats and flies loosely lie low 

as caterpillars hold on tight

to leaves of flowers seeding through colder nights.

The angle of the sun has moved us

as we turn around a sun now calmed.

Its bright displays over too-hot days are over-done.

The silence grows as the cold days come on.

Longer shadows of neglect disclose

the weeds who hid in too-bright light.

We now face ever-longer nights.

Is this the calm before winter’s storms?

Are we watching the loss of every norm?

Or have we become so compliant

we fail to even notice the silence?

The neighborhood is strangely silent

as I keep vigil, and hold fast against violence.

Silence, silence. So much uneasy silence

one wants to scream and shout so loud

windows open wide in surprise 

to see what all the fuss is about.

Footsteps march around the block.

Even they are too silent to unlock

the energy sapped by summer’s too-hot heat.

We are just too tired to compete

with the silence, silence. So much silence.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

WHAT’S NEXT ?

Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels.com

Organizing is agonizing.

Perhaps this is why 

so few even try.

Door to door

volunteers implore

a moment of your time.

Clipboards held close

to register you to vote,

and finally take a stand

on what matters to you.

Citizenship is not exciting.

there are no trophies awarded

for showing up to vote.

Time spent is the only fee

to stand in line and show I.D.

You get what you pay for

but so much more a say for

a government you choose

to serve your every need.

Then why must volunteers plead

for your attention, as they speed

to meet deadlines for signatures

to place a choice on a ballot.

Does any of it matter?

Look around you now.

And what you see, I vow,

will bring you to your knees.

Too long have you ignored

the politics of greed.

Register then vote

in every single election.

Believe me when I say

voting is your only protection.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

FREE THE STRAWBERRIES

Louise’s strawberry garden fenced to keep out chipmunks, squirrels,racoons,deer,rabbits,skunks and a variety of birds; allowing in rain, helpful pollinators, and insect enemies of other harmful insects. Rest assured the gate will be turned right side up and our American garden will once again flourish and produce sweet fruit. Patience and effort, constant weeding out those harming the garden. It takes time and is well worth the effort.

The fence is placed all around

The strawberries are in the ground.

The gate is upside down.

The harvest will be delayed

Dismantling what we made

hour by our, day by day.

Chaos alway brings change.

Gardens too rigorously defended

make fences necessarily upended

to reach fruit not intended

for anyone but a few

who fence out themselves, too. 

What is the gardener to do?

A gate is meant to let us through

to the crop we worked for,

and many of us died for,

a free country we yearn for.

We thought we planted within our reach.

We thought we had enough freedom to teach.

We never thought we would beseech

tearing down everything we had built

to avoid admitting our guilt.

The gate MAGA made is all atilt.

The fence is too high, clearly.

We are just so frustrated and weary.

We may never eat another strawberry.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

LAST BREATH

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

What is the period of mourning

when a nation dies before our eyes?

Not in sudden cardiac arrest,

not like a slow cancer.

nor a natural aging

of its body politic.

But, like a chronic illness

which has worsened over time,

sometimes in remission

allowing hope to remain alive.

But, when death’s grip pries

the life from every cell

which protected a nation from demise

and its heartbeats accelerate

at a far too barbaric rate,

what then? How can hope survive

when our national freedom dies?

The violence, the bombs, the rubbled ruin 

comes after the next election, I fear. 

The election may save us from loss

of freedom, but at a cost.

Like Ukraine, we can take a nation back

by electing constitutional, loyal leaders

and set our enemies off to the side.

Like Ukraine, our enemies will regroup

and ferociously and physically attack

what they could not seize by stealth.

They will never let go of power and wealth

which we allowed them to take during this

DOGE-dealing, Heritage Foundation steal.

Courts may save us for a time.

But, be prepared.Everything is on the line.

And the mourning is ever-ceasing

for those who see the fate

of a nation which for too-long

embraced its power and its wealth, 

and allowed itself to hate.

Slavery was our original sin and set the stage

for all the other hate and division

that has led to this time of fear and outrage.

How long is the mourning period for such a loss?

It has been my entire life; yet, my hope has endured.

But, my body senses death at my nation’s door.

And, I fear I simply cannot take it anymore.

What is the end to this period of mourning?

Every cell in the body politic is warning

that this nation, our beloved nation

may be close to its last breath.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

FEEL THE BLUE

Acrylic on canvass by Louise Annarino, March 2025

The natural world continues to create beauty, even if only within my mind on cold wintry days with snow flurries slowing the garden’s awakening. This nation will awaken. The ranks of the woke will increase. Blue-bliss will overcome blood-red. Our nation will flourish again with diverse gardens to delight every sense, and remind us of the endless possibilities of a free people, One Nation out of Many. Let this painting give you hope and bring you a measure of peace today.

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Filed under art work, POLITICS

CONNECTED

Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels.com

Some losses are too great to be borne.

Some losses are so huge they force us to mourn.

Some losses sift sinew and bone,

ideals and beliefs, tattered and worn.

Some losses pull hearts apart

smiling tears of grief, we feel all alone.

We pretend such loss is not our own

when watched on screens, viewed from afar.

But, connection is more than geography.

Some losses cross borders we cannot see.

Drought, floods and storms floor us all equally.

Bombs rain down on other cities 

and beat us all bloody, in hidden anatomy.

Threads bind us together in an ethernet.

One stitch connecting us here and there, 

of which we are determinedly unaware.

Instead we pretend, through word and prayer,

when what we really must do is give a care.

Some losses are too great to be borne.

Some losses are too great to ignore.

For, when we do, they lead to war.

Like children we make up games

and pretend life is merely a game to play.

Business and politics play out games’ themes.

Media reports but no one referees.

The games of politics and war become a melee.

But, life is much more than a game to play.

Some losses are too great to be borne.

Some losses are too great to ignore.

Our votes are not tokens to be tossed in a loss.

Our votes are connections which must not be lost.

Some losses are too great to be borne.

Some losses are too great to ignore.

Please, stop playing long enough

to go vote on behalf of ALL of us.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL CONVENTION

Photo by Thiago Silva on Pexels.com

Best to keep parched lips closed in the midst of drought.

When the rain comes, as it surely must, lips open wide,

with head tilted back, in a tumultuous shout.

Filling up with rain, one wet swallow can seem enough.

Memory quickly returns of a mouth full of dry dust,

reminding one a single swallow is not enough.

After thirsting so long words have grown tough

to swallow, feel bitter, feel wounded, feel flushed

where they would be drowned 

if only rain would fall down.

Still, the short rain is enough to stir us to our feet,

on the forward march to greener pastures,

cool beneath our bare feet,

taking their fill of all the rains 

that have gone before to make this place

one where one may stay to laugh and play.

We will not go back.

Tears of joy rain down now.

We swallow them whole, 

filled with power so bold

we believe we control

the weather.

We don’t, we know.

But, we can vote.

And our vote grows in volume

as word drops form streams

and create new rivers of dreams

that flow within oceans so strong

their freedom carries us along

to new and better shores 

where right overcomes wrongs.

Words fall like rain, again and again.

Dance in the rain and play

on the way to election day.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

TWO DIFFERENT TEA PARTIES

Louise at tea with friends

We sit together in the tea room,

four friends sharing stories of our lives

as we have done since first grade.

Now, older ladies at age seventy-five

the stories remain the same in the telling

if not in the content, with little to no surprise.

Our stories are those told by women over time

while their aged hands hold cups of calming tea

Heart-hands are held within the circle of our lives.

We studiously avoid this day 

what brings us to our knees to pray.

We know our country and our world’s democracy

is sadly  attacked, torn, bleeding and frayed

by hypocrites who lie and find distorted ways

to describe the problems we all face.

We agree the Republican Party is a disgrace.

Its leaders praise and offer support

to Putin, Orban and the sort of autocrat

who rules with iron hands and deadly fists,

claiming they are too MAGA strong to resist.

Laughingly, as if they are proud

supporters rally round Trump, shouting loud

with triumphant cheers, they form a crowd

of sycophants and fools who hide their fear

within the lies of those they cheer.

They no longer need to wear white sheets.

They are legally and openly armed to the teeth

to create a white supremacist militia.

They act with impunity in every community,

even in D.C. on the 6th. of January.

Hate crimes increase, threats roam the streets,

and gather openly in social media accounts

where they can hide their hate with open pride.

We old ladies have no fear. We have seen this before.

We have lived long enough to recall all 

those who “drank the tea” and raised the cup

to the “Tea Party” who plotted it all,

willing to watch America fall

so long as Republican supporters with great stealth

could retain their hold on power, and keep their wealth.

This is nothing new. We watched it happen as too few

paid any attention to how it happened and came to be

that we face the loss of our very treasured democracy.

They attack our very humanity, and make love a sin.

Their victimhood becomes a sign of religious grace.

Too many “find Jesus” as His words are replaced

with a false idol determined to win the race

to the White House and the presidency.

So, we sit together and drink our tea.

We may find it hard to stand on our feet.

But we shall not allow our democracy’s defeat.

We will vote for the only political party

we would be willing to invite to join us at tea.

Democrats all, we still can stand tall.

We may be a bit slower, but we go where we need to be,

to the polls to vote for those who still uphold the law.

We still speak what needs to be said

as facts remain alive, and truth is not yet dead.

We are still alive, as you can see. No one is too old

to uphold democracy and jail those whose crimes

are so many and so bold. We ladies recognize

that lies are still lies, no matter who enjoys their telling.

The con is not new, though the conmen may be.

Heat the kettle. Bring the water to a boil.

Brew the tea. Fill your cup. 

Drink the real tea and wake up.

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ELECTIONS 2024

Carnival rides at sunset by Marcus Burnette is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0

The election year carnival has set up on the town square.

Hawkers shout from every tent, “come try our wares.”

Games of chance do not come free.

Choices are forced by our monetary needs.
Every player needs tickets to play.

Too few funds shortens the stay.

The House of Mirrors is on full display.

But the images inside are shattered in the fray

of fast-moving events and fast-talking cons.

Bombarded by fractured light we simply go on.

We get lost amid broken images

with pattern-less scrimmages

as we move through mirrored rooms.

Our hearts pound out a sense of doom.

Anxiety reigns.This feels like no game

that anyone can win, nor simply gain fame.

This House of Mirrors creates fear

and makes each step too dear

to waste on those seeking our vote.

We respond to the loudest note,

no soft word can compete

as we close our eyes and complete

the winding route to the outside.

Suddenly, we just want to hide.

It is all too much to pay attention.

We are as fractured as the mirrors we faced,

mirrors which displaced reality’s space.

Down is up and up is down.

We search for a safe space with none to be found.

We are surrounded by the false laughter of clowns.

All we once knew to be true is turned around.

We yearn for past days when we stood on solid ground.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

DEFAMATION

Photo by CQF-Avocat on Pexels.com

Words can cut too close to the bone. 

Words’ outside meaning fires the skin.

Words’ inside meaning, hidden from view

fires up hateful spew, just as true.

Words can cut too close to the bone.

splitting back the skin of what we have known.

Words open gaps to see within

what we have long hidden beneath our thin skins.

Words can make the blood flow strong,

too hard and too fast for too long.

Words flow beneath the marrow

to the depths of what we think we know.

Words pulse with their own beat

dancing through bodies to the soles of our feet.

Words leave bloody footprints to follow

until all blood is lost and our souls become hollow.

This is how words kill.

From outside in then out again

opening wounds we did not know

had crusted over wounds from long ago.

Words tear scars opening wounds anew

while ripping apart the peace we had found

to cure and to heal hate with love.

Words tell us love can never be true.

Words tell us love is not real;

if real, then, love is too weak to abide.

Words help us bury love so deep it subsides

and only hate can hold court inside.

Words boost false pride

that I am better than you.

I die inside as I try to kill the few

who speak the truth you once knew.

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Filed under POETRY