Poetic license?
Can just anyone get one
or only poets?
~
Poetic license
is free to every writer,
yet all freedom has a price.
Poetic license?
Can just anyone get one
or only poets?
~
Poetic license
is free to every writer,
yet all freedom has a price.
Should we consider
the thoughts of blooming lilies
as base poetic license?
~
Perhaps not the thoughts
of lilies but the thoughts of
my blooming fellow poet…
When you consider
the lilies of the field, what
might you ask? What might you learn?
~
Why do you bloom here,
this inhospitable place?
Why, in sorrow, beauty blooms.
When things look darkest,
what high magic do you cast
to illuminate your path?
~
The magic of friends’
listening ears and caring
hearts brightens the darkest path.
When even Einstein
says knowledge must be paired with
thoughtful care, who can argue?
~
Wise fools and con men
leap immediately forth,
along with politicians.
And what are these aches?
Pains to plague remaining days?
Trophies of bygone triumphs?
~
Tender testaments,
these aches and pains – trophies that
only the living can hold.
~
Now that you’ve passed through
fifty’s door what have
you found on the other side?
~
Mostly, more of the
same that greeted forty’s door,
except with more aches and pains.
When our children stand
to toddle away, do we
chase after or watch them go?
~
Where we see toddlers
they see young adults who wish
we’d see their maturity.
Should we abandon
these questions about questions
and go looking for some rhymes?
~
Like rhymes, our reasons
for asking all these questions;
to chime the passing seasons.
And not only that,
why do we provide answers
for unasked questions?
~
That answer is easy.
Our vanity compels us
to scatter our thoughts widely.
Related question:
Why do we ask those questions
to which we don’t want answers?
~
We do want answers,
but only the kind that are
music to our ears.
Why do we humans
insist on asking questions
that have no answers?
~
All answers exist,
even if we lack the means
to ask the question clearly.
When the rising sun
pierces the hazy morning,
why must we rise to meet it?
~
To rise or not to
rise? If that’s the question, I’ll
have to go with rise.
Just this once, couldn’t
pesky weeds and fast growing
grass take a vacation too?
~
They would not wish to
rob us of our secret joy;
the zen state of garden care.
And so we return
to the old familiar grind.
Why do we rejoice?
~
It’s strange, isn’t it,
how familiiarity
sometimes breeds content.
Can anything beat
being welcomed home by tail
wagging, joyous pets?
~
A silent evening,
perhaps? Or maybe just an
old, familiar bed?
Weekend’s arrival;
Does it presage promise of
toil or tranquility?
~
Wouldn’t it be great,
if toil it is, we could
do so with tranquility?
How best to handle
the inevitable surge
of work when vacation ends?
~
Just buckle down and
put your nose to the grindstone?
Or, just take another week!
After sedation,
and the kids have gone to bed,
what should parents do?
~
My son, to answer
this, I’d have to know who has
been sedated, them or you.
What is the shortest
path to equanimity
on rainy days at the beach?
~
Lithium, of course
is lickity split, but beer,
in a pinch, will turn the trick.
Well, the weather is
over us, so shall we see
whether the pleasure’s at sea?
~
The pleasure’s right here
in the boat of our hearts as
we ride weather’s waves.
After a few days
of family vacation,do
you feel bonded or just bound?
~
Bonded by boundless
affection is family,
But also bound by duty.
So we’re here, away.
Did we escape our troubles,
Or did we pack them along?
~
For a short while
we’ve packed them away and left
that suitcase back home.
Any advice for
old-timers trying not to
run out of patience or time?
~
Grace, patience, and time;
Races without finish lines.
You’re winning if you’re running.
As time approaches
to take a vacation break,
how best to get away clean?
~
Clean getaways are
nice, but sometimes it’s fine
to only air out our minds.
In the end, my son,
what will you remember most
when I am finally toast?
~
I’d love to say wit
but, in truth, it’s likely “checks”
that will linger long beyond…
When we stand our ground
and insist upon our rights,
must we fear how we’re perceived?
~
Possibly we can
find a way to do so that
doesn’t create fear.
Is it possible
for a teen to acknowledge
a parent may know some things?
~
When I was thirteen
I knew it all; happily,
I’ve grown dumber since.
When is betrayal
really self-preservation
hidden in awful disguise?
~
Ah, and there’s the rub.
Faced with such a question, one
seeks the safety of context.
When the moon grows full,
is everyone stirred or just
mad men and lovers?
~
Subconscious oceans,
just like terrestrial seas,
feel the tidal pull.