a poem in my pocket

Freedom
-by Langston Hughes

Freedom will not come

Langston Hughes (Britannica)

Today, this year
Nor ever
Through compromise and fear.

I have as much right
As the other fellow has
To stand
On my two feet
And own the land.

I tire so of hearing people say,
Let things take their course.
Tomorrow is another day.
I do not need my freedom when I’m dead.
I cannot live on tomorrow’s bread.
Freedom
Is a strong seed
Planted
In a great need.
I live here, too.
I want my freedom
Just as you.

__________________

freedom    (-by lynn)

freedom will not come
today, this year
nor ever
through socialism’s fear.

each individual has
intrinsic right to
opportunity
to stand on two feet
and work the land.

i tire of hearing people say,
      capitalism is historically racist
      and the rich must now repay
it’s not freedom to be dead
with fascist bullet in your head.

freedom
must move us
to offer justice
to every shade
of children God made
renewal of faith and family
education, jobs, prosperity
less (not more) bureaucracy

ensures real freedom for you and me.

I acknowledge that often those of us with “privilege” have not reached out a hand to help others up.  We must commit to mutual respect and working to change unequal opportunities (not force outcomes).  I am linking to dVerse Poetics this week where HA is hosting…check out more poems inspired by Black History Month!

Republicans repudiate
Democrats’ demagoguery
but dignity’s in “shitter”

Pelosi pouts while
Trump’s triumphant
tweeters all atwitter

Politics is sinking boat as
Iowa (still?) counts the vote!

I don’t often write about politics but the recent antics in the U.S. are (almost) laughable…

lean to let go

raise white flag

give up all small

insecurities & fears

real need to be right

set-in-stone schedule

venting with vengeance

inappropriate apologies

right now it’s time to

pray with boldness

walk wisdom way

forgiven & free

embrace grace

hear humbly

surrender

Linda offers paint chip poetry as a fun Friday prompt…click link to see colors 🙂

As rare as grace in The Scarlet Letter
or strong as faith size of mustard seed
as kleenex makes clown nose feel better
or dust bunny hides until it is freed
(would octopus lend a hand in need?)
I wish for luck when last frost is long over
surprised to find TWO four-leaf clover!

waves write on the beach
gently rolling in…backing out
a steady rhythm in flowing harmony
receding foam reveals glistening treasures
of iridescent shell and wet seaweed
crab and sea star buffet for gulls
poetic scratches of driftwood

ideas hibernate in winter
fields lie fallow under drifting snow
soil and its creatures take rest
toads sleep deep under mud’s cover
birdsong stilled, winged to warmer climes
until spring melt when crocus buds
and world thinks green again

deliberate lunar phrases
wax bright and full of bold ideas
alchemy transforms night’s coal to silver
another month slowly passes while
queen of darkness softly wanes
new moon’s silence accentuates
diamond brilliance of stars!

Discuss chap. 11 of book On Being a Writer (Kroeker & Craig) at our writers’ tea about the balance of writing/rest.

As angels illuminated this holy night,
we light a wreath of candles flickering bright.

Winter moon in velvet sky sheds softer glow
and white lights twinkle on pine branches in snow

Carolers, who sing under lamp post’s glare,
will gather near fire’s hearth with stories to share.

Joyful tears in sinners’ eyes shine when we hear
that peace with God is possible, conscience clear

Each window reflects a star pointing the way,
let us celebrate the Light of the World today!

(I’ve updated this poem to recite for our church service of Lessons & Carols)

by wind and camel’s hair caressed
a loud voice cries in wilderness
to homeless hearts

what did you come out to see?
crowded with expectancy
in restless desert

wonder how honey-dipped locusts taste?
wonder how to survive in this place?
ask shameless questions

watch and wait on wet line in sand
listen to ranting of wild man
young fearless prophet

the word calls hearers to repent
prepare the way by spirit sent
for helpless sinners

stand on brink of riverbank steep
wade out to where the water’s deep
hold breathless moment

messiah is here! raise your eyes
in holy sandals (yet untied)
steps our boundless hope

Linking to Laura Bloombury’s poetics on “less is more” at dVerse poets pub…