Arrest My Soul

When all of the pleading and kneading is over,

After the bleeding is finally stopped,

Will we be feeding on fodder from yesteryear?

Will we be heeding the soothsayer’s song?

 

Who will be leading and lighting the torches?

Seeding our thoughts through the torturous times?

Reading the headlines in horrible hopelessness?

Weeding out suspects who stand in the way?

 

I stand in horror watching the spectacle.

I stand in fear as it touches my walk.

I stand defiant, defending my doorstep from

Goose-stepping Cretins who crash through the night.

 

Arrest, if you must, this pitiful visage.

Arrest, if you dare, this intolerable toad.

Arrest if you think me a threat to your manhood,

But you will never arrest my soul.

 

There will be judgment.

There will be justice.

There will be reckonings all have to face.

Patience be teacher,

Watchdog to freedom,

Standing in front at the end of the race.

 

Another Fine Mess

Oh, if we could only go back in time,

A day, a week or even a year,

Know all the pitfalls,

                The potholes,

                 The pratfalls,

See all the bumps in the road up ahead.

 

But vision is weak, impaired if not blinded by

Heart-felt passion’s irrational rush,

And we keep making the same mistakes

That leave us to sleep in an empty bed.

 

Wellsprings of happiness don’t merely happen.

They must be constructed of labor and love.

Truth is the shovel, compassion the pick so that

When mistakes happen there’s room to confess.

 

You could have…

I could have…

We could have been more

                Deductive,

                Seductive,

                Productive at best

In our effortless efforts to find resolution.

Instead we are left with another fine mess.

 

Pintos, Okra and Fried Green Tomatoes

Some harbor favor for gourmet cuisine:

Caviar, pheasant or filet mignon.

Trendy like crepe suzettes, crème brulee, sushi,

Mildly to wildly exotic in theme.

 

Others, like me, have a simpler palette:

Meatloaf, potatoes, hot apple pie,

Pintos, okra and fried green tomatoes,

Coffee, no sugar, and light on the cream.

 

Buttermilk cornbread to crumble like sugar,

Biscuits with jelly, a savory sweet,

Mother’s fried chicken, a finger-food favorite

Served up on Sunday, a family buffet.

 

I would not argue or offer a protest

To anyone’s favor for fanciful foods, but

Pintos, okra and fried green tomatoes are

More than enough to get me through the day.

 

The Green of Summer

The passing of unsettled skies

Makes way for more pastoral days

Where green is nature’s uniform

And sunlight clings to the horizon.

 

Bold the forest spreads its welcome,

Gives itself up willingly to

All who seek its gentle comfort,

Shelter from the noonday sun.

 

Fields and meadows roll with laughter.

Children’s voices ringing bells of

Simple joy while we sit watching

Keeping vigil as they play.

 

Nighttime cannot quench your colors, 

Hide the flavor of your hue.

I can taste the green of summer

Though my eyes see only gray.

 

Oh, that you could stay forever,

Wear your magic on my sleeve, but

Seasons come and seasons go

Leaving little time to grieve.

 

Sanctuary

Run to cover, shelter from

The fire-belching dragon who

Would have your face for breakfast and

Consume your flesh at dinnertime.

 

Holding faith with vigilance

In stalwart measure, self-assured,

Tasting of adrenaline rushing,

Pumping to the bone.

 

No one knows where courage musters,

Cannot guess the origins of

Fight or flight, wrong or right.

Still it finds us in the dark.

 

Let me be your sanctuary.

Let me still your angry skies,

Be your comfort and protector

When the monster storms your gate.

 

We will face the beast together,

Sword and lance held to the sky.

Two as one, invincible,

Striding out to find our fate.