Tag Archives: future

LOOK TO THE YOUNG

Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Pexels.com

To see the future look to the young people.

They are not yet bound by convention,

nor blinded by the past,

as we old people are,

weighed down and eyes downcast

because we must watch the path

we no longer walk easily.

Such history serves a  purpose.

It offers cautionary tales

learned from days gone by.

But, it predicts nothing,

moves too slowly to catch up

with the speed of a future

unfolding before our eyes.

We can hardly understand

what we see in broken spans

as we catch pieces of the changes

meant to help us survive.

Look to the young people

racing on by, sharing nods of heads

while busily taking it all in stride,

smiling all the while,

letting us hold fast to our past

knowing we think them fools;

but they know they are simply cool.

And they are so, so, so  cool.

They carry our hopes with their own,

and the hopes of ages past grown old

into a world we cannot conceive.

They never break a sweat; 

learning more than we can forget.

I want to live long enough to see

this new world they create, strong and free.

I lift my eyes up to them respectfully,

gladly, lovingly and hopefully.

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STRONG OF HEART

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Hardened hearts break easily,

leaving broken pieces to fall

as heavy weights of brute strength,

and painful threats strewn about the streets

bathed in pepper gas and tears

of gas dripping over the faces of our children,

our elderly, our disabled; all allies

of the young who’s futures face flash bangs

of deceit and fraud and outright theft.

All of us thrown to the ground 

stumped and stamped upon

by those whose hardened hearts

keep breaking and flung about in rage.

Photo by Ramaz Bluashvili on Pexels.com

The hearts of those who protest are soft.

They are known for their easy acceptance.

They are berated for their ease of conscience.

Such hearts cannot break apart.

They are part of one eternal heart.

The hearts of protesters are soft, but firm.

Such soft hearts are resolute and unbreakable.

Their love of country and of one another

continue to beat strong and full of love.

Such hearts always remember to BE GOOD.

The only way to stop strong hearts

is to capture, perhaps kill, them.

Photo by Bich Tran on Pexels.com

Hearts connected to one another

always continue to beat on.

Ukraine’s heart beats on.

Gaza’s heart beats on.

Sudan’s heart beats on.

Iran’s heart beats on.

Greenland’s heart beats on.

Canada’s heart beats on.

Central America’s heart beats on.

South America’s heart beats on.

The European Union’s heart beats on.

Minneapolis’ heart beats on.

Chicago’s heart beats on.

Los Angeles’ heart beats on.

The United States of America’s heart beats on.

Freedom’s heart beats strong, 

and beats on, now and forever.

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MY FELLOW AMERICANS

MY FELLOW AMERICANS

I hold my tongue.

It takes strength I do not have.

Whimpers escape

On shattered breaths,

In silent screams.

The fight worries my soul,

Battle weary and choking,

On words held tight inside.

Once the scream begins

I doubt I could stop.

I wait for your speech.

I yearn for your promise

To stop the authoritarian

Who has taken over our house,

Emptied its vaults,

Stolen its wealth,

Sold its power

To the highest bidders.

So, I write. That I can do

While I wait for you.

To me, this nothing new.

Do you believe me now?

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REPLANTING DEMOCRACY

Leonoras Widow’s Tears, from Breck’s bulbs, planted 4-24-2025

The Holland roots arrived today.

They still need to soak

before I can plant them

deep enough to grow.

What Leonora’s tears will bring

to the garden yet this Spring,

I do not yet know.

The soil is as dark as ever.

This is no reason to fear.

It does not mean it lacks

the ability to accept seeds that grow

into new ideas, new joys, new hopes

beyond our current capacity to know

what wonders in freedom’s garden

will seek light, grow upright and glow

amid the new plantings we start today,

across new paths and waterways,

across neighbors’ fields 

on new roads and byways

joining the others we already know.

Together we continue to sow

new seeds of freedom, perhaps hybridized

alongside the naturalized and native plants

that make our yards, our streets,

our neighborhoods, our nation states,

our very planet come alive again

in even more fruitful and beautiful ways.

I plant with hope this day and every day.

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HAPPY NEW YEAR 2025

Photo by Jill Wellington on Pexels.com

Worn and weary I 

run away from words hidden 

in the dark of night.

Photo by Nicole Avagliano on Pexels.com

Pained and poured out I

slowly ascend the mountain

reaching toward the light.

Photo by dilbeste on Pexels.com

Strained and so sore I

peruse the new horizon

coming into sight.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Battered but brave I

reach into my open heart.

Love overcomes fright.

Photo by fauxels on Pexels.com

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FUTURE WAITS

Photo by Cleyton Ewerton on Pexels.com

Future refuses to talk.

She holds her cards close.

No expression crosses her face.

Her fierce calm holds us in place.

We gamble our fortunes, our lives,

within her unfathomable space.

Withholding breath we wait

to discover our curious fate.

“Play the cards you have,” 

she says,“before it is too late.”

The game here now will last until

each card has been played.

Holding onto cards 

means new presents are delayed.

The young know this better

than their elders do.

The young play with greater abandon,

unconscious of the heavy stakes

that keep my eyes open all night through, 

awake, until light from a new day

through the closed blinds seeps through.

A new day.

A new game.

Time to play.

Future cuts the cards.

No time to waste.

Vote!

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MORNINGS

Photo by SHVETS production on Pexels.com

Is the first awakening any better than the last?

Or must we always yearn for what is past?

The sun breaks open the darkness we are closed within.

Even in darkness our light is never dimmed.

Must we compete, then with the light we face at dawn?

Must we shine brighter, hotter, higher, hour after hour

until exhaustion overtakes our effort to shine divine?

Finally, darkness comes to embrace us, calm us, take us

where we may dream of what will be, what was, what is.

Is the first awakening any better than the last?

Will the next awakening be even better than those past?

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SOLEMN VOW

Photo from Louise’s and the bees’ garden.

Where does my world begin and end?

Before the horizon or beyond it to some unknown shore

That has only appeared in my dreams before?

Is my world worth saving, again and again.

Are we simply so tired we do not mind it could end?

Helpless, it seems, I am to do more.

Technology now must save the day

as I find my own simple way

to save and protect all that I love.

I cannot sit still and not do my part.

I must give it my all, and give you all my heart.

I plant native plants and trees,

flowers whose blooms dance in fierce breeze.

Butterflies and bees swoop in and sip

the nectar of gods, nip after nip.

I feed the homeless and shelter those displaced

by flood, fire, crime, famine and war.

I visit the isolated and phone the lonely.

I stay healthy enough to stay earth-bound a few days more

to love those far away and those close around me.

I fold my hands and grip my rosary beads

praying those with power and ability

know what to do and how to succeed.

I love this Earth, its flora and fauna;

its sunrises and sunsets and all in between.

I love its sunny days and cloudless blue skies;

and days when storms hide sun behind a screen.

There is no place in the universe that I would rather be

than right here with you, as we face such adversity.

My hope lies in science and those drenched in creativity

who see beyond today to a future of love and harmony;

not just for all the people of the Earth

but for Earth herself who offers us sanctuary

within the endless energy of planetary boundaries.

Where does my world begin and end?

Right here, with you, right now.

This is a solemn vow.

take it and make it 

your own

somehow.

HIBISCUS, acrylic on canvass by Louise Annarino with gratitude to her garden.

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HAIKU

8/22/22

Photo by Matheus Bertelli on Pexels.com

Dreams are the blueprint

for life’s emerging story.

Each frame a promise.

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GEESE LESSONS

Photo by RODNAE Productions on Pexels.com

Feathers line the ponds’ paths.

The geese are in their molt.

They willingly pull feathers loose.

They do not fear their loss.

They know feathers are merely the surface 

of who they are, a cultural statement,

not an identity. 

They realize they remain geese

even if every feather is lost. 

They poke no fun at their flock members.

They do not call them “geese in name only”.

They welcome the molt. 

It comforts them to lose well-worn feathers.

Geese accept new feathers.

They know they can fly better

even if they look different.

They accept that different is better.

They are still members of the same flock.

They are still geese, just renewed and improved.

If only Americans could accept the molt

of culture and it well-worn surface.

If only Americans could rejoice in new feathers,

and realize they could fly better

and still be one flock.

We could learn lot from geese.

We could learn to fly in a vee formation

with everyone a leader sharing the point

and bringing the nation

into a new age with the strength and grace

to let go of the old feathers and old fears,

and fly free. If only we were like geese.

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