Not True

Not True

It is not
true that life is fair
rewards good
not evil
often evil will triumph
it is sad to say.

It is not
true that people reap
what they sow
fairy tale
evil people often gain
blessings undeserved.

It is true
that life is a paradox
confusing
troubling
but we cannot let evil
have its own way.

This is a shadorma (3/5/3/3/7/5).....a major revision of a poem I wrote back in 2011 when hardly anyone was reading my stuff.  Sharing with Poets United Poetry Pantry....thinking of evil at work in the world today.

Absence

Absence

One wonders about the absence of reason
the absence of humanity and logic
the absence of just plain common sense

When has lying become acceptable
racist rants become the theme of the day
hate for the other become the game plan
twisted words of hatred given sway

When has it been so publicly condoned
to discriminate against muslims hispanics gays
to build walls  and to refuse service
to take away rights or privileges recently gained

When has it been so blatantly encouraged
that a people find enemies within itself
to make some live in fear of deportation
others not being accepted for who they are

When did the other become the enemy
intolerance become the norm
pointing fingers despising differences
while claiming Christianity as their own

When did one's bathroom become more important
than how people could make a living wage
when did people's rights buy rifles
take precedence over people's right to live

One wonders about the absence of reason
the absence of humanity and logic
the absence of just plain common sense.

Written for Sumana's Midweek Motif - "Absence."

The Use of Poetry

The Use of Poetry

Poetry is a friend who will stick by you
even if you try to abandon him
or don't answer the phone when he calls.

Poetry will drop anything for you
and when you knock on the door
will answer and never tell you
to come back another time.

Poetry brings you unexpected gifts
a shoulder to cry on when needed
a listening ear when no one else is there
an insight you were looking for
a laugh when you need it most.

Poetry is there in the middle of the night
sometimes appears in your dreams
then wakes up early if you do
but is more than happy to sleep in.

Poetry is patient and waits for you to find your words
doesn't mind if you repeat yourself
or even change your mind.

Poetry accepts your thoughts
and no matter what others think
always finds them profound.

Poetry is  a thief and sometimes steals time
occasionally steals your heart
but never would steal your money.

Poetry is neither young nor old
poetry exists in time yet is timeless.
poetry will outlive you
but will never forget you.

This poem is inspired by Rosemary Nissen-Wade's poem "The Advantages of Poetry," which I hope you will read here!  Thanks, Rosemary.  I needed inspiration today.  I am sharing it in Sunday's Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Fourth of July Haibun

Fourth of July Haibun

I remember it most often being cold on Fourth of July when I was a child.  I do remember decorating my bicycle with red, white, and blue crepe paper streamers and having a cookout with many of the relatives.  Burgers, brats, hot dogs in abundance.  Potato salad (which I detested), baked beans, and jello.  Watermelon for dessert.  Or ice cream. Simple fare, but family gathering was good.

At night my family would sit in our back yard on lawn chairs, blankets wrapped around us, and watch the annual Fourth of July fireworks that were shot up from a park on the other side of the river. From our own private viewing area we could see (and hear) the light show very clearly--the fireworks rose above the trees. The neighborhood kids also sometime got together to light sparklers, which paled beside the display in the sky, but gave us the feeling of being involved in celebrating in our own small, but more personal, way.

Life was easy then, and it was a good time to grow up.  But maybe, like all children, I was insulated from all that might happen.  Danger always seemed so far away; and perhaps that is how it should be for those blissful few years of youth.  It is Fourth of July now...some decades later.  Let the celebrations begin.  Life is good.

Fourth of July fare
fireworks explode in the sky
celebrate the day.

Well, I guess this is a haibun.  I was reflecting on the Fourth of July celebrations of my childhood.
For Poets United Poetry Pantry.