Tag Archives: winter

I’m History . . . . . . (call me witty)

.

“Histories make men wise;

poets, witty;

the mathematics, subtle;

natural philosophy, deep;

logic and rhetoric,

able to contend.”

,

― Francis Bacon

.

.

Elfje:        (Cinquain)

.

story

repeated orally

twice told tales

biased towards the winner

history

.

Haiku:

.

calm before the storm

dark clouds crowd the horizon

birds seek still refuge

.

Poem:

.

the poet wanted to get serious
the poem wanted to have fun
the poet said I’m curious
the poem said let’s hit and run

people are amusing
do animals  really laugh
individuals are really confusing
could a pig pass a polygraph

most young like to play games
most old become slow and cantankerous
most living things enjoy riding trains
and when the ride stops, all are rancorous

to have real fun let’s become a bully
politicians are a real easy target
gross prevarication practiced anally
all those promises they soon forget

let’s not exclude the actors and actresses
money and fame makes them real experts
what do they know about checks and balances
their ranks filled with just too many perverts

a high shot at the talking heads and fake news
can’t distinguish between reporting and opinion
huge egos protecting politically correct views
Wall Street and big pharma buying their minion

glad we had this time to have some fun
aren’t you glad we didn’t pick on you
hopefully fun will never ever be done
so here’s to looking for you in the zoo

.

.

ME and the Boss

.

.

.

https://michaelerb.wordpress.com

.

https://meandtheboss.wordpress.com

.

.

..

Advertisements

The Blood of Poets

.

“I bleed myself to be your
drink:

Is not the blood of poets
~ ink?”

.

~ William Soutar

.

.

Butterfly Cinquain: a nine-line “syllabic” form with the pattern
two, four, six, eight, two, eight, six, four, two.

.

flower
brightly colored
a pleasant aroma
butterfly, hummingbird visit
garden
tender care a labor of love
heart and soul aesthetic
grateful pleasure
God’s gift

.

Haiku:   my poetic license; seven, five, seven.

.

pupae become butterflies

pollinate flowers

God’s symbiotic world

.

Poem:

.

the game was never played
except in the minds eye
the field and rules were unmade
the only ball ended in a pop fly

all were guaranteed to be a winner
an unreal blood and guts fantasy
every round started with a new beginner
the only goal was to prevent a travesty

the philosophers coined the word government
the game was to be played on neutral ground
the two sides conspired to a secret covenant
to keep each other rich, safe and sound

they tried to emulate Gulliver’s travels
they invented the company too big to fail
they elected the judge and paid for his gavel
all suspicions ended as being an old wives tale

they selected a pitcher who was never drafted
he had enough money of his own
the old guard was unceremoniously shafted
the queen lost her dynastic throne

the cries of the poet went unheeded
they believed that the talking heads
were all that was needed
the game collapsed, all were left in the dregs

history has repeated
biographers took sides
everyone cheated
shifted with the tides

will there be anyone left to read the leaves
taking odds on the color and slant of the eyes
maybe a religion that rewards the thieves
will the unlucky survivors need a disguise

what is it about human nature
that honesty is demanded only of others
more unenforceable rules from legislature
lip service that calls us all brothers

tis a story that will never end
as long as man draws a breath
his pride and ego cannot comprehend
if lucky, he’ll endure a civil death

.

.

ME and the Boss

.

.

https://michaelerb.wordpress.com

.

https://meandtheboss.wordpress.com

.

.

..

 

 

 


%d bloggers like this: