Poetry - page 9
• Elkgrove - Doug
Eisenstark
• Save The Trees - Hillary
Kaye
• Mr. Price has come to town - Jim
Smith
• Will’s Crusade - Lily
Tanner
• reflection- Rebecca M.
Frey
• Mendocino Haiku - erica
snowlake
• There is no sure protection
from Poetry - John Thomas
Elkgrove
I
know it’s not about the money
but
still...
still.
with
justice I see
busy streets
again
moving vans double
parked
with trucks from furniture
stores
crowding newly acquired
hybrids
Those who cleaned and lifted
for
others,
hiring.
-Doug
Eisenstark
************
Save
The Trees
By Hillary
Kaye
The flesh of the tree is its
bark....like the flesh of any human
like the
gray beautiful flesh of the elephant...ancient and
old
telling us of
life
this flesh is meaningless to
commerce
meaningless to progress
which
marches on but tells us
nothing
the flesh of the tree is it now aware
of its fate
is it not worth saving like a
child
like the mother like the father like
the son
like the holy moment and being
that it
is.
************
Mr.
Price has come to town
with a smile on
his face
and a wad of bills in his
hand.
With just a hint of pity, he
says:
I have big plans for
you!
A new suit of
clothes
just like they wear
uptown.
And the finest
shopping
you can ever
imagine.
If you still think the old days were
grand
Perhaps this check for your favorite
cause
will make you forget that
nonsense.
And a little more under the
table
will make you betray those
bums
who have overstayed their
welcome.
You can’t beat our PR
machine
but if you do, we’ve got the
police.
-Jim
Smith
************
Will’s
Crusade
It was Will’s
Crusade
the first in hundreds of
years
he felt obliged to knock on every
door
walk every
street
converge on the Holy
Land
not so close as Palestine, not so
far
as the center of the
earth
where the sun boiled
black.
As Will knocked on
doors
doctors and orderlies appeared in
white
ready to
follow
the sun all night and summer all
winter
according to the tenets of
Will
all children be free of the cold,
hunger, and war
all men love their
mothers
wives and
children.
Where they walked gardens
loomed
when they entered a
town
songs of cheer touched their
fingers.
For a hundred years this march
continued
until waters were
clear
air so clean a breath felt like
silk.
And when the century of foot
goodness
came to an
end
laughter
forgot
the evildoers.
-Lily
Tanner
*************
reflection
I
looked for you, you were not there.
All the
birds flew away at sunset. Were you awake
then?
Seemed everything got really quiet. I
was well aware of the
approaching
insanity.
I’ve
seen tomorrow, so how to live today?
Pull me
down and I will bless you as the saint.
Big
men, with big talk have less to say. In fact they said "it’s
over."
But if you scream at the sun, we can
hold our position in time. Rip its
hands off,
laugh at the day.
We will eat tomorrow and
sing the songs
to commemorate what she
said.
-Rebecca M.
Frey
************
Mendocino
Haiku
medicine
crystal
rolling clean sticky
fingers
wicked zombie
stone.
-erica
snowlake
*************
THERE
IS NO SURE
PROTECTION FROM
POETRY
(submitted by Philomene
Long)
Wet sand,
small
quiet
breakers.
A hundred yards
out,
the shark breaks
water
briefly, his flank a
perfect
curve of living
white,
gone and deep
before
doubt can erase
him.
This was his
moment
to be a
metaphor,
but he had been
there,
cold, tireless and
unseen,
all
along.
--John Thomas
Posted: Sat
- December
1, 2007 at 07:12 PM