Divine Justice

The tears of the orphan pour down

Like a torrent waterfall

No tissue to dry his eyes

No umbrella to block the rainfall

 

The world clicks by

Posting feel-good Facebook posts

Allowing them to sleep at night

And avoid society ghosts

 

Fake words of sympathy

False smiles hide disinterest

They prescribe therapists and medicine

And the world goes about its business

 

One day, when we are all judged

The sentence will come down

Justice parceled out by St. Michael

Heaven will resemble a ghost town

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Car Watching

Car Watching

Standing curbside on the border of 422

Behind me the outpost of Turkey Hill

I watch like a sentry as the cars drive by

I peer inside, curious, intrigued

Where are these people heading?

Where is their destination?

Where worries do they have?

Is their gas tank low?

What is their back story?

Or like Flynn Rider do they not tell?

Could one female driver be my soul mate?

I contemplate as my gallon of sweet tea grows heavy

They ride by as Indian raiding parties

Seeing all, remembering only what’s important

The orange hand forbids my passage

The white man appears

I walk as all the cars watch me

 

 

 

 

 

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Acrobat of the Air

If I could be a bird

I would be a Tree Swallow

Floating on the air

Graceful as a breeze

The sky, my playground

The nesting box, my home

Lawnmowers I would follow

Catching insects in my beak

 

An Acrobat of the Air

Is what the

Flightless humans

Would call me

With envy

As green

As my feathers

On my sun-shined back

 

If I could be a Tree Swallow

All, worry, concern

Frustration would fly away

Like me

But I’m not a bird

And Ovid’s myths are imaginary

So I stay grounded

Like the dodo

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HOF Exhibit

One summer I went to Canton

To visit the Pro Football Hall of Fame

As I stared at the exhibits: a voice called out

“Boy this game has changed”

 

I turned to find behind me

A man in padded gear

Teeth were missing

And he was scarred from ear to ear

 

He said: Son, I played in the NFL

In its prehistoric years

And the way they present it

Isn’t how the game appeared

 

I chuckled and thought

“Boy this reenactor is good

He has the uniform, the gear

Appearing as it should

 

He grinned wryly

A smile between fake and real

I didn’t care for his ways

And the way it made me feel

 

 

He spoke tragically

As if he lost a friend

Or he was reliving

Where it all began

 

He proceeded to tell his tale

Of men lifted by the tongs

From the mines and the college fields

Survival only attained by the strong

 

He said: They called us brutes

They called us men of blood

They scorned and said: We only played for money

They termed us hired guns

 

We didn’t have the pageantry

We didn’t have the lace

It was inappropriate at our games

For a lady to show her face

 

We played on fields of dirt

For two hundred down

And we weren’t offered endorsements

After we won the crown

 

 

Our names except for a few are forgotten

Thrope, Hutson, Baugh, and Grange

Are the only fossils still

Remembered in this day and age

 

Men like Chamberlin and Battles

Friedman, Parker, and Blood

Good as today’s stars

And yet never heard of

 

I pondered all this

As he continued on

And when he finished

I asked: To what team did you belong?’

 

He smiled that wryly grin again

And slowly disappeared like a faded photograph

I dashed to the pictures to take a look

I found him and I wished I ask for his autograph

 












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Rose Bowl

The roses bloom on the hundred yard garden

As the sky melts down over Pasadena

The crowd roars as gladiators from east and west

Fight in an American classic

Some roses are picked before they bloom

The rest bloom to full glory and everlasting fame

The roses bloom on the hundred yard garden

As the sky melts down over Pasadena

The crowd roars as gladiators from east and west

Fight in an American classic

Some roses are picked before they bloom

The rest bloom to full glory and everlasting fame

The names of the heroes ring across history

From Neil Snow to (insert today’s MVP)

Brick Muller blocking the line

Dixie Howell flinging passes to Don Huston

Wildcat Wilson almost beating Alabama by himself

VanderKelen leading a frantic comeback that fell short

Vince Young winning a national championship

Tank Carder knocking down a game-tying two-point conversion

Every New Year begins with the “Granddaddy of them all”

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Hallway Princess and Peasant

I know we can’t happen

The caste system is well alive

You are up on high

And I am down low

Yet, you have none of the snobbery

You talk to peasants like me

Royalty doesn’t exist in America

So, they say

But the nobility hasn’t met

The guillotine yet

You are most likely going

To be on his arm again

Second times are the norm

After a storm

At this land of love

Someday, my kind

Will shine

But until then

You own my heart

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Christmas Arrival

Like a wanderer in the wilderness

Israel is searching for salvation

A people trapped in sin

A river of mercy will flow again

 

Prince of Peace, Emmanuel , Son of David

His multiple names enhance his mission

Of love, charity, and good will

From kings in palaces to shepherds on hills.

 

The prophets hadn’t spoken in 400 years

Their silence was the answer to yearning ears

Until God sent His Son, the final reply

So, that all men might live and never die

 

An angel came to a maiden

Engaged to an carpenter

Through her, God built his plan

To save the offspring of the first man

 

Caesar desired his due

And a census was ordered

The carpenter was a son of David

He found a donkey for her and they traveled to Bethlehem

 

Galilee to Judea, an arduous trip

His sandal-clad feet cut open

The lamps of Bethlehem finally glowed

The final exit on the unpaved road

 

There was no room at the inn

The manager offered his manger

They settled down among the hay

To await the child of Christmas day

 

When the Savior was born, the heavens rejoice

Angels filled the skies and sang

Animals too, hymned along

Joining the heavenly bodies in their song

 

Shepherds down from the hills came

Bringing gifts of wool and lambs

Poor, shivering shepherds

Bowing before the Good Shepherd

 

Magi come bearing gifts from the East

Frankincense, myrrh, and gold

Foreshadowing gifts from three kings

Bowing to the King of Kings

 

Let’s us join in the celebration of Christmas Day

As we join in wishing Jesus,  a Happy Birthday!

 

 

 

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