Could writing poems
be our antidepressant
of choice when the times are rough?
~
That, and our downers
when euphoria erupts!
Like lyrical lithium.
Could writing poems
be our antidepressant
of choice when the times are rough?
~
That, and our downers
when euphoria erupts!
Like lyrical lithium.
Must we seek meaning
in the eyes of that Divine
lest we find despair?
~
Where love is present,
the eyes of the Divine shine
and banish despair.
Why do we mistake
human interpretations
for divine exhortations?
~
“Made in God’s image”
leads us to believe we see
through the Divine’s eyes.
Can we not wake up,
after all the gluttony ,
to some human compassion?
~
Perhaps we should start
with one simple intent – to
give as well as get.
What should the little
piggy who has roast beef do
when some little piggies have none?
~
Invite them over!
Roast beef tastes much better with
a little bacon garnish.
When fear and hunger
bring out the worst in us all,
how can we find harmony?
~
Harmony may be
a stretch, but we can begin,
as others have, with a song.
Do we want to be
governed by love or fear –
A choice for all seasons?
~
Love’s warm governance
steadies the terrorized heart
when fear’s icy grasp returns.
What can poets do
to soften blows and mend wounds
when disaster strikes?
~
Poets remind us
of eternal verities
and the depths within.
Is it true you’ve been
designing cups of reason
for the holiday season?
~
Reason, being scarce,
did not need designer cups
so I sought absurd instead.
Since some things remain
eternal and unchanging,
must we be more flexible?
~
Openness serves us
when dealing with certainties
of whatever kind.
On the darkest nights
do you know where the moon goes
or where the stars are hiding?
~
They’re still shining bright
even on the darkest night,
only hidden from our sight.
Where can we find light
enough to brighten the night
during our darkest hours?
~
Love, recollected
or present, casts light enough
to see us through such darkness.
What can each of us
do to insure hate does not
have the final victory?
~
Final victory
can only be assured when
each of us surrenders hate.
If now’s the winter
of our discontent, how can
we welcome a new springtime?
~
From the compost of
our discontent, new life can
take root, grow, and bloom.
How many right-wing
ideologues does it take
to design a Christmas cup?
~
Ideologies,
are a lot like Christmas Cups:
of dubious origins.
Does the old horse find
the longer blinders are off,
there’s much more out there to see?
~
From one old horse to
an old horse in training – I’ll
simply say this – “Wait and see.”
As you leave fifty
behind, my son, what will you
be taking with you?
~
Honorable scars;
tokens of well fought defeats
and banners of victories won.
Does the foreknowledge
that coming grimness will pass,
relieve or deepen the dread?
~
It all depends on
where we put our emphasis –
the coming or the going.
As the season turns
and the days grow cold, what will
keep you snug and warm?
~
Snug in the knowledge
winter’s a fleeting season
warms the cockles of my heart.
Why does it seem that
collaborations can bring
out the best and worst in us?
~
It all goes back to
our answer to the question:
Who does the grail serve?
Is it possible
to have equanimity
when faced with technology?
~
Given enough time
technology just becomes
equanimous background noise.
Does this universe
thrill and gush in its perverse
slowing when we feel most rushed?
~
Is the universe
perverse or are we being
given a nudge to reverse?
Is it possible
that our dogs know more than we
about love and loyalty?
~
Have we not molded
them in our twisted image
to serve many purposes?
As another week
Draws to its whimpering close,
Do weekends bring peace or more pain?
~
Ah, my poet friend,
’tis we and we alone who
bring peace or pain to week’s end.
Time and again we’ve
been told love is the answer.
Did we forget the question?
~
Is this just pablum,
or could love be the answer
to more than just one question?
If it’s beyond us
to change the whole wide world,
can we affect any change?
~
Debra Engle says
miracles come when we ask for
our fear-based thoughts to be healed.
With so many folks
stirring the pot, what kind of
brew are they making?
~
With a dash of hate
and just a pinch discord,
somebody’s brewing trouble.
They pontificate
These pundits and talking heads,
In this cloud, can we find news?
~
Those old objective
questions of who, what, where, when,
how, and why have passed them by.
What could possibly
prepare us for the outcome
of election daze?
~
They say wine is fine.
But perhaps liquor’s quicker,
When it’s time to quell the whine.
Do those deeper chords
persist even without fish
to dance about their rhythms?
~
Creation’s deep chords
persist whether fish or fowl
or we, hearing music, dance.