Tag Archives: peace

DANCE LIKE YOU MEAN IT

Photo by Jessica Pope on Pexels.com

He has no spleen.

He has no fight.

A childhood chant,

If I remember that right.

Switchblades once ruled

where guns now alight.

Bullies without spleens,

those I remember alright.

Social media makes bullies

to our left and our right.

Social media fakes spleens

for those scared of others’ might.

We could make our peace

and not need a spleen.

We could face our fears

and let others draw near.

We could dance and sing

through winter and spring,

through summer and fall.

We need not fight at all.

We could simply share

all that we know and love,

all that we have to spare.

This is my chanted prayer.

Spineless, spleenless bullies

may take over the stage

and every airwave

with shouted outrage.

Turn them off. Tune them out.

Life is too short to listen to their shouts.

Life is too precious to waste and spin

into useless promises to win.

To win what? I ask of life.

What is worth such strife?

Much better friendship is sought

whether I like you or not.

Just turn up the music and dance.

Give life’s joys a chance.

Feed the hungry, house the poor

that we may all dance forevermore.

Seek connection with fearless affection.

Dance. Just Dance.

Now,

dance some more.

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BAD KNEES GARDENER

Photo by Helena Lopes on Pexels.com

Packets of seeds are starting to arrive,

which may never grow,

in the mail from companies

with greater gardening skills than I.

Buying seeds is a hopeful sign

that my pained leg might soon be fine.

Perhaps one day my knee can bend again

to plant my treasured seeds in fertile soil

and I can return to lovingly toil

among plants that are my dearest friends.

For now, they sit untended on my kitchen counter.

They sit and they wait, then wait some more

for longer, warmer days filled with sunlight;

and, for a leg which can stretch and move

painlessly and endlessly to plant more seeds

than this world may ever need

to make peace and beauty thrive,

among earthlings happy to be alive.

The seeds sit and wait for better days.

As do I. As do I. As do I.

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WAKING NIGHTMARES

Photo by Chris F on Pexels.com

I rise again from a tousled bed

into the darkest night.

No lights are yet lit in my neighbors’ homes.

Yet, I do not feel entirely alone.

Ghosts of those who fought earlier wars

lie beside me, and make their cares my own.

Their warnings bubble to the surface

as the tea kettle heats, whistles and warns.

The silence of the night blasts so loud

I believe I hear bombs, missiles and drones

falling onto rooftops, and yards, and neighbors;

in every American neighborhood, and my own.

In this neighborhood, where there is so little fear,

where we have never the devastation of war known.

The detestation of war, too often, is mine alone.

Those who have never gone to war

make war too easily,

Talk about death and destruction

relaxed and breezily.

They send others to march, to fight, to die;

after picking the pockets of the working class

and poor, they select our children to go to war.

Selective service is still in force, but not enforced

lest children of the wealthy have to declare

bone spurs, bad knees, or thinning hair.

Another example of the war made against our own

picking our pockets of hard-earned cash

to wage wars from febrile minds heatedly grown,

while treating our young men and women like trash.

While war protects the the few, their assets and reputations,

it forcefully destroys our chaotically-controlled nation.

The silent night screams out 

to waken me with blasts and shouts,

“Make war no more!”

“Make war no more!”

We have no excuses.

Not any more.

Are you awake yet?

White House released photo. Note the makeshift, unsecured skiff, making war from Mar a Lago, taking time away from a gala fundraiser.

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Place your shoes under the bed.

Where you go in your dreams

Is best walked barefoot.

Feel the surface you trod,hard or soft,

Rough or smooth,

Hot or cold.

Learn the truth, grounded and sure

So lies cannot find you unaware,

Unready, unable to discern

The truth you need to know

To find your way on ground that is real

And leads to the place you need to go.

A place you neither want nor expect

But need to be. The temple of honesty.

Barefoot. Grounded. Free.

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LEAD WITH THE HEART

Lead with the heart

and the mind will follow

a path of peace and hope,

strong enough to carry

dreams and generosity

for all those you meet.

No matter how difficult

the journey it will not be taken

alone, silently, fearfully.

The heart knows best what matters.

The heart knows the best path.

The heart unites us joyfully.

The heart beats life determinedly.

The heart overcomes strife.

Lead with the heart and do your part

to create a world worth living.

Some paths are famous and large.

Some paths are unrecognized and small.

Every path matters to those

who walk it and make it their own.

Every path converges as we move

into the great unknown.

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IN THEIR STEPS

We walk with heroes

On paths of love for freedom.

Let us walk in peace.

Henry David Thoreau Poems > My poetic side

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AUTUMN IS IN THE AIR

Acrylic on canvass, self-portrait, louise Annarino

Cold air is heavier.

Its density 

has a propensity

to hold us in place,

inside,

asleep.

It is enough

to make one weep

who loves the heat.

I welcome it

for its cooling property, 

its innate ability

to calm and soothe

the painful reality

of an overheated,

seemingly defeated,

world once at peace.

Oh, it was but a brief

moment in time

when hope was alive

and the country thrived,

and nations strived

to help democracy

overcome autocracy.

But, I digress

under great stress.

Cold air is weighted

with shards of ice

torn loose from northern fields,

with such power to wield

that it weighs down sunrise,

to no one’s surprise.

It puts the worker bees to sleep.

They awaken inside flowers

lacking the power

to find their way to their hives.

Cold air makes dreams

more difficult to bear,

their messages too heavily aware

of all the world’s problems

fair and unfair.

Autumn is here

and the world bows down

under the new weight.

Winter is not far away.

I cannot wait!

As sun rises the only sound

is the song of geese southward bound.

I place the heating pad round

a sore back from bending down

to plant bulbs squirrels have already found.

Soon, snow will coat the frozen ground.

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THREE HUGS A DAY

Photo by Polina Tankilevitch on Pexels.com

The need for connection

upon reflection

explains the violence

unleashed in silence

within the soul, combined

with alienation of the mind.

Touch is such a powerful greed.

Three hugs a day is all we need.

Yet, too many wait endlessly

for a single, tender touch, daily.

If love does not connect us over too many days

we struggle to find connection in other ways.

The eyes of the lonely tell a story

of diminished worth, and the loss of glory

that belongs to every human being,

and keeps us from loving and truly seeing

the lonely person cowering inside;

afraid to show their loss of pride.

Shouting never brings us closer.

Flying fists simply make us cower.

Violent words have hurtful power.

We hide away from the course force

of those afraid to share lonely discourse.

Hugs would be better

to bring us together.

You may think this only a woman’s view.

I assure you men need hugs, too.

So, hug three people today.

Do not let false pride get in your way.

Thus, three hugs will come to you

and peace may one day be renewed.

Photo by Agung Pandit Wiguna on Pexels.com

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MEMORIES

Memories

The heart’s memory

Holds truth close for but a moment.

Then moves beyond truth

To a greater reality

To become something more,

Something that can last challenging and comforting,

cherished and caressed

Through boundless eternity.

The stories we tell ourselves

May have little basis in reality.

The heart too easily

Makes fools of us all.

Yet, we become enthralled

As our stories unfold,

Especially with those stories

We have never told.

Held close to the chest,

Such untold stories

Make us look, and feel, our best.

Their power keeps us strong

And able to face all the rest.

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Goodness and Mercy

Goodness and Mercy

follow me every day,.

Their footfalls softly fall

As I make my way.

As darkness drops ahead

they lift their torches

to light my way,

comforting through nights

that threaten

To never go away.

I hear their voices

in children at play.

I feel their touch in hugs

from friends keeping loneliness at bay.

I share their laughs and smiles

with strangers on my way.

I am carried in their arms

by those who lift my fears away.

I accrue my many debts

but it is they who pay.

They carry me toward my fate

when I would wearily delay.

And, when it seems useless,

they remind me to pray:

“Thank you, Goodness and Mercy

for following me all my days.“

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