The world is full of resonance
Of loving echoes ringing;
The birds still try to tell us this,
If we but hear their singing
For sound can glitter in the air,
And make the sad soul glisten —
The world is full of resonance,
If we but stop
To listen
Tag: #48Poems48Hours2
Technology’s A Fickle Thing
Technology’s a fickle thing,
In case you haven’t heard:
We master things when we are young
That then become absurd —
It happens to us everyday,
But we’re still undeterred:
We always think what we might know’s
The last and final
Word
To share is human:
The Clouds, Like Us
The clouds, like us, seem made of naught but dust:
We travel over hard and rocky ground,
Through countless miles agitated strife,
Then pour our dirty selves back down to earth,
As ash to ash, and dust to dust, indeed.
The clouds, like us, chaotic and obscure:
We tangle in each other, slipping out,
And heaving back into confusing mist.
The past, the future, both – so much to know
That we can never fathom, though we try,
To find some shape or order in it all.
The clouds, like us, whose days are hard and brief:
But in whose tears are growth, and life, and hope.
To share is human:
A Sunrise Lesson
If you can still tell
That the earth is turning,
It isn’t time yet
To stop changing
To share is human:
Cherries
Social realities
Common dualities
Made from societal modern modalities
Hoping for Socrates
Stuck with banalities
Tortured by habit and anger and lyme disease
Cherries we pick and then stack into piles
Hidden by marketing image and smiles
Alibis heightening
Chains are all tightening
People who jump at the first sign of ripening
Burdens delightening
Fear of de-whitening
All who can listen are due for enlightening
Cherries we pick and then bushel away
Fruit that must come, and the price
We must pay
To share is human:
Of Paradise
There is a history, untold,
Of paradise and passions bred;
And so we spend our living days
Among the houses of the dead
Beneath the selfsame sky they knew,
We walk their paths, and feel their souls:
For all that was, is yet to be,
And written on our own hearts’ scrolls
There was a story, long ago,
Of paradise and brilliance shed,
And so, these hours in the sun,
Where blue desires led to red
As time goes to infinity,
So we must go as humankind;
For all that was, is yet to be,
Our past and future, intertwined
Of paradise, there’s much to learn —
Like knowledge, softly shaken, in its turn
To share is human:
The Price The Tribe Demands
Uniformity
In thought and look and feeling
Conformity
In action and in word
Atrocity
That’s overlooked, or sanctioned
Capacity
To swallow the absurd
Mendacity
In reasons for our reasons
Opacity:
To hide what’s true or real
Complicity –
Acceptance of what’s evil
And paucity
In truth to what we feel
To share is human:
Human Novels
A person. A voice and a viewpoint;
But more than a genetive text —
Heredity writing the first draft,
Experience writing the next —
I’m not sure how much is of choices,
The things that we do or do not;
The number of chapters uncertain.
But all of it’s part of
The plot
