He’s dreaming of her green eyes
the ways she’s lovable
in sobriety’s kind highs:
Alluring, huggable
She’s the vivacious bouquet
that bounces his heart’s ballet
Two decades later: Bush2 is The One!
A puzzling precedent
when the Elites coalesce
round a past President
and craftily reassess:
Ain’t Bush2, the Iraq war criminal,
well on way on his own road liminal?
+)
liminality = (Latin līmen: a threshold) is the quality of ambiguity that occurs in the middle stage of a rite of passage, when participants no longer hold their pre-ritual status but have not yet begun the transition to the status they will hold when the rite is complete
Pedaling below Spring’s trees pendulous
Under tire in front
at cheerful clip
goes the hurried hunt
for pavement strip
Gliding below trees pendulous
bestows us joy eternal
pedaling in Spring blessedness
hugged by miracle vernal
In peace of heart & mind
beyond most other kind
Seasonal change: Summer to Fall
Bosomy Summer falls into Autumn’s lean arms
in seasonal change without doubt or struggle
mutually elated with each others charms
the seasons change glowing in loving snuggle
That’s how it flows in Nature Harmonious
while Human interplay acrimonious
Heartstrings of harp
On the passing of a friend
While of Life’s harshness wary
convivial our Mary
Her heartstrings of harp
her mind saber sharp
Met many like her? Nary!
Global warming not some day. Yesterday.
Global warming
A bike dealer who mentions global warming may indeed be guilty of the same self serving cheap promotion as the car dealership, which flies an over sized American flag or the politician who presumes to speak for ‘all hardworking folks’.
Be this as it may, the earth is “on the verge of disastrous climate changes that spiral dynamically out of humanity’s control, causing mass extinction, ecosystem collapse and dramatic sea level rises.”
James Hansen, the chief climate scientist at NASA, returned to Capitol Hill in June, on the twentieth anniversary of his 1988 testimony, to indeed warn that the earth is on the verge of “disastrous climate changes that spiral dynamically out of humanity’s control,” causing “mass extinction, ecosystem collapse and dramatic sea level rises.”
Obviously no amount of bicycling shall reverse or by itself significantly slow the spiraling.
Nothing shall. Short of perhaps radical life style changes right now, which clearly ain’t happening.
But for all its horror I’d personally rather know than living in denial of my own betrayal of future generations. Being only one of some 7 billions humans cannot lessen my complicity. I have sadly done nothing beyond mildly inconveniencing myself regarding arguably the greatest calamity that can possibly face life on planet Earth.
Erstwhile maiden moping, while still hoping
She had been pining
for a charmer
a knight in shining
gleaming armor
Then caught her on-white-horse-knight
after courtship whirlwind!
A leftist who wasn’t too bright
now she suffers chagrined
By now peeled off her lacquer
an aging woman less busty
He turned out a bald slacker
armor cracked & hinges rusty
Next she hopes to find someone who won’t annoy her
perhaps a well-to-do Republican lawyer?
Soon the Month of Maying
The small child
The child’s mind is clearness
in unspoken dearness
in unbroken nearness
each moment as hereness
In the present time fulfilled
absent of pretension
mind by the most minute stilled
free from condescension
All in wonder of the mundane
in wide starry eyes ponder
not drawn to lofty or arcane
not off somewhere there yonder
Duck is a duck, no swan
no airs needing put on
Self-nomination no longer aberration
Calling oneself ‘poet’
hold it there, slow it!
uncorking the Moet
might overdo it
Calling oneself ‘great friend’
or ‘great at one’s craft’
part of self-absorbed trend
once unseemly daft
Like for self briskly clapping
would once been an aberration
as erstwhile own back slapping
frowned on as self-nomination
Now why wouldn’t it be our druthers
let any praise, come from others?
+)
moet = contrary to French grammar ‘moet’, when in Moet & Chandon champagne, is pronounced mo’wett
Came across these lines from a late-Elizabethan era madrigal ‘Now is the Month of Maying’:
“The Spring clad all in gladness
doth laugh at Winter’s sadness”
which inspired the following verse – though pretending that ‘Madrigal’ is the last name of a woman called Elizabeth, who is rather the one feeling gladness & sadness:
While flawless crisp days did excite
on frozen fields bucolic
since then worn thin Winter’s delight
in melting snow to frolic
Patient, fickle & demure
thus arrives next season
to brim with its own allure
clouded from all reason
Dear Elizabeth Madrigal
clearly the most innate thing
for such a thoughtful lovely gal
to join in laughter with Spring!