Saturday, August 5, 2017

The Reactionary

Some creatures have eyes on the side of their head
And others have eyes that look forward.
I, on the other hand, hark to what's dead,
To a past that's already occurred.

With longing I pine for the sweetness that's gone
For the flavor that's turned into dust.
Others want iron that's spotless and strong
While I like mine covered in rust.

Friday, March 17, 2017

Jangled Noise

Where there is random noise there can be no rhythm.
It's almost spiteful how shrieks and unrepentant humming
Put to death anything unified or hopeful.
Nothing against noise.  No, boisterous sound can carry a family
Or even a nation.
But both are wearied to frustration,
Deadened by tuneless tintabulation.
If you must make your voice heard, make it sweet
Give a man's ears something good to eat.
Make it potatoes or creme brulee,
But don't ruin a God-given day.

Thursday, March 9, 2017

A Red Door


A red door is... striking.
A red door is bold.
A red door will beckon you
In from the cold.
A red door gets opened
When you've got the key.
But it isn't much help
When the key is with me.
A red door takes mail
On the days that it comes,
And sometimes graffiti
When found in the slums.
But this door is special,
Whate'er it appears,
Because it's my Granny's
And has been for years.