a poem in my pocket

Guest post: haiku written by my son…

______________

mornings grow brighter

grasses and trees green and bloom

time for hikes and bikes

forsooth,
his shocking words may burn thine ears
remember, jester’s only “king” four years
alack, peasants too easy swoon from news
despaired panic uncouth response to choose
such brash hyperbole be lord’s weapon
with cheeky speech his enemies undone
(truth: northern neighbor ne’er a state t’will be
nor gaza trump’s “golden resort” e’er see!)
yet let us not defend old status quo:
dragon of debt and spending still our foe
real border shalt define our nation state
(who doth not want thy country to be great?!)
sleepy joe’s reign we could no longer fake
at least, my friends, this president’s awake!

______________________

Sometimes we take politics and politicians too seriously…they are neither source nor solution of every problem. As a people, Americans must find common ground (or divided we fall).

Remember this cautionary quote: “America is great because she is good. If America ceases to be good, America will cease to be great.” – Alexis de Tocqueville

Inspiration (with a twist) from poem by e.e. cummings, [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in] and linked to dVerse poets pub where Sanaa hosts poetics today…

i carry your heart on my sleeve (son of
my heart) you are always (my pride) a part of me
i will never want to be without (with you
in my heart) and your heart on my sleeve

i believe
you have become best part of me (and i
remain still part of you) even though we are apart
separate now yet not now (or ever really if
you believe) in maternal love carried in

my heart
heartbeat of life (also heard by your four
brothers) like sleeve on your arm (genetically
wrapped band of brothers) bonded by blood, rooted
in our family tree, nourished by me (you see

i carry) your hearts on my sleeve

my sons

dense tropical jungle hangs heavy
above our dugout canoe as we glide
stealthily on midnight blue waters
mottled with red glow of fluorescent
fish feeding along the muddy banks

our guide shines white flashlight
on canopy of trees that reflect neon
green and yellow back at wide eyes
straining to see into velvet black night

we hear coos, chirps, howls, screams
alongside and above us; both in far
distance beyond coffeed trunks, now
too close…beware a jaguar’s pounce!

______________

Melissa hosts at dVerse poets today. This poem was my first impression of Emil Nolde’s painting. After reading this article about the German expressionist artist also being a Nazi supporter, I wonder if he painted a river/path of blood? This was painted before his joining the “socialist” party but perhaps the violence is within us, waiting to come out…we cannot separate our art from who we truly are.

one final question

did we love each other well?

dearly departed

give flowers to the living

forgive before forgotten

____________