a poem in my pocket

so much depends upon

the stainless tea kettle

whistling

on bisque enamel stove

next to bunch of yellow

ripened bananas and a

 warm batch

of  ginger crackle cookies.

William Carlos Williams’ poem about the red wheelbarrow inspired this poem…

baby boy
bouncy baby boy
beautiful bouncy baby boy
big beautiful bouncy baby boy

brother to four
older sister-mothers
who coo when you cry,
“you know that we love you!”

breast-fed and chubby
with soft rolls of charm
your smiling blue eyes
and adorable dimples

grandma’s ticklish touch
triggers wiggly giggles
you’re round and delightful,
sweet-cheeked apple of my eye!

we’re passing shadows
from dust to dust again;
Jim’s baptism~memorial
marked in same church.

his body now laid to rest
soul released into glory;
farmer planted in the soil
harvest is brought home.

casket bouquet features
corn, fishing pole, tractor;
children, grands & greats,
fruit of faithful marriage.

he outlived son & one lung,
now breathes heaven’s air;
entered the land of living…
those left behind will come

fallen…in rebellion

we are but broken twigs

fuel for feeding the fire;

ephemoral ash and smoke

all black-tarred with sticky guilt

destined for eternal combustion

in hot flames of the Almighty’s

justifiable wrath;  pure holiness

cannot ignore injustice and

violence interminably nor can

Love itself tolerate ingrates’ hate.

his heart weeps as he sweeps

the good earth clean again in

a purifying inferno.

__________

forgiven…lifted up

by Grace we learn to

see our true selves as

repentant and redeemed;

washed joyous clean again

in the blood of the Son’s one

done sacrifice;  destined for

eternal restored relationship

with our Creator/Father

who in open-armed mercy

accepts us in Agape love itself

which transforms our earthly

mirror images to reflect light

of perfecting peace.

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