In my severely dog-deprived state,First thoughts of that photo, I’ll relate,Were that I’d dognap her right away--And also double her doggie pay! But broadly thinking about these timesThat try our souls, I reach for rhymes.The furry gymnast now says, with care,“We’ve all just gotta hang in there!” Please let your imagination roamIn responding to this … Continue reading We’ve All Just Gotta Hang In There…
Sunlight sweeps across our yard in a glistening arc. Adolescent trees sway rhythmically in a Wind so tamed from the wrath I feared in March that I smile with relief at the trees’ gentle dance. But wait; there’s more: The goldfinches visit en masse, Their feathers startlingly brighter, richer— Another paean to the lengthening stretch … Continue reading A Slice of Wonder in a Trembling World
Bill Barr Image courtesy of commons.wikimedia.org We’ve all had a lovely reprieveFrom Bill-Barr’s penchant to deceiveBut he’s back with a hook:It’s his new “tell-all” bookWith li(n)es he assumes we’ll believe. Let me state that I will not payOne cent for this Bill-Barr display;I can learn what I needFrom reviews that I readOf the Truth he’ll … Continue reading Bill-Barr One Mo’ Time…I Seek Refuge in Rhyme
Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com To Shelley, the West Wind brought to mind:Seasons change; Spring can’t be far behind. Zephyrus, Chaucer’s Wind-gazing god,Sweetly exhaled with a Springlike nod To me, the Wind assaults the senses—So fiercely loud, coldly relentless. Its fury caused the Oaks’ surrender,Upending blocks of florae splendor In other acts of carefree … Continue reading The Wind and March, 2022 (With Apologies to the Literary Giants)
The Attorney General for the People Person of the US Receives Scrutiny
Once again I must turn to Bill-Barr
To examine behavior bizarre;
This is not the first time
That things seem to skirt crime
And his antics sink less than subpar.
In the world of the lovingly kind
I’ve found myself caught in a bind:
Consumed by my hate
It made my gut ache
’Twas a matter far over my mind.
I’m not about to write of food
Or remembrance of repasts
My blog is clogging up right now
And I need your help real fast.
I used to have a sub-menu
That offered all my oeuvre
But a WP Engineer warned
Its growth was a SNAFUer.
Of equipment for patients and carers
Reveal huge flaws in America’s design.
One thing I do
Not hear discussed
Applies to the “have nots’”
Vying for their tiny share of
Income from the supposed stimulus:
Registering their presence without
Use of computers and Internet?
Shadowy reminders of those we forget.
Growing up near a beach, I led a child-dylic life of sun/sand/surf
The ocean was my backyard pool; the sand my playground
Near the water’s edge, the consistency of that granular play-doh
Encouraged childhood architectural whimsy.
I’ve often said that I’m one happy blogger: I love to write and to research new topics; I’m grateful for your feedback; and—this was one aspect of blogging that I hadn’t anticipated but is becoming one of the most valuable—I feel personally enriched by meeting so many extraordinary, talented people from all over the world.
The most recent is Judy Dykstra-Brown, a poet, writer, artist, and lecturer who blogs at Life Lessons. She’s a prolific blogger, posting something—sometimes several things—every day. That energy alone boggles my once-or-at-most-twice-weekly blogger mind!
Candidates flailing arms in the air, bent on talking, one over another
Hapless moderators—too many, too weak to control the mayhem
Another Democratic debate,
Offering less light than heat
Seemingly not laser-focused on the context: our closeness to the abyss.
When an aroused people stands together
Elevating our shared goal beyond our individual predilections,
A portent of spring,
Still garbed in winter’s drab gray
They crowd the feeder—
Six at a time, reserving each perch.
...That Doesn't Love A Wall.--Robert Frost.
The President's beloved wall
Designed to keep our borders "pure"
Of those who seek refuge from harm
Could not withstand a high wind
The WordPress Happiness Engineers are cheery;
They respond as best they can.
But a SNAFU is making me weary;
What you're reading is not what I'd planned...
In April I cited Barr’s antics
The AG was quietly frantic
The Mueller Report
Was a strong retort
To the “Trump did no wrong” semantics.
But Bill-Barr knew why he’d been hired
And sensing the public was tired:
“There’s nothing,” said he—
So the Truth into muck became mired.
When Colin Kaepernick, the former NFL football quarterback, took a knee (knelt) during The Star-Spangled Banner at the start of the games, he created quite the uproar. I have written that I felt his using his visibility to call attention to the injustices against African-Americans and other minorities was in the best tradition of nonviolent protest. He paid a heavy price for his actions: though he reached a settlement with the National Football League and is now a free agent, to date no team has been willing to sign him.
Anna Celenza, Professor of Music at Georgetown University, discusses Kaepernick’s protest in her introduction to a One Day University lecture titled: “Four Musical Masterpieces That Changed America.” I found her talk, which I watched on video, so enlightening that I’d like to provide you with some highlights. I’ve also added a bit of research from other sources.
[Note: As this is Labor Day Weekend, my brain is taking a holiday from blogging, and I am reaching back to my personal archives for a poem I wrote nearly two decades ago.]
I’m trying to fathom this wondrous new world
Of black holes revealed and of wormholes uncurled,
Of hyperspace, cyberspace, space here and there,
Of DNA fingerprints gleaned from a hair....
An Exploration in Rhyme...
NOTE: Gazing at a lovely picture of a friend’s daughter with her two kids--a newborn and a toddler--I found myself advising her, in full cliche: “Enjoy every minute of this time; it goes so fast!” That made me wistful about my own daughters’ younger years. Even though I realized then the flight of time, it still slipped past me far too quickly. So I dug out a poem I wrote decades ago, which was published in a local anthology. Here ’tis: