The Flag Retirement

Crisp Autumn frost biting noses and toes as

A reverent assemblage awaits the occasion.

No anger or protest, no mock revolution,

Just love and respect for the symbol at hand.

 

Young men in uniform move briskly with purpose

To tender the flame’s resolute preparation.

They gather their linens, all tattered and worn,

The emblem of liberty throughout the land.

 

In staid ceremony, a crisp call to order,

A calm benediction of gentle persuasion.

“The line forms right here

To bring forth your banners”

To place on the pyre through the dirge of the band.

 

I stand at attention, hat in hand.

My eyes are aghast with the realization

The flame purifies, sanctifies, canonizes

In ways nary a soul will misunderstand.

 

She Stands in the Harbor

A gift.

A magnanimous, thoughtful gift

From her sister nation across the sea.

Born from the love of freedom

And faith in the kindness of humanity.

She stands in the harbor overlooking

The portal of hope. Her torch held high

To hail the ships, to light the path in

Silence, never asking why.

 

Behind her the never-ending sprawl of

A steaming behemoth rides the horizon.

The mountains and trenches of concrete and steel

Scream a challenge of vast expanses beyond.

But she never waivers in her daunting task.

Her silent resolve makes a solemn decree.

She beckons the weary to enter her shores and

Accept the bold challenge of sweet liberty.

 

She cannot deny them,

Will never forsake them,

Shall always enfold them in welcoming arms.

And all who believe in the bright torch of freedom

Forever defend her and keep her from harm.

 

Founding Fathers

There were no blueprints in those early days;

Just ragged tomes and scrolls from eons past

With cryptic jargon and philosophies

Of overstated misbegotten text.

 

The pieces are all there in scattered scrawl

Laid out before the gathering to weigh.

The gallant and outspoken breathing fire

As they beat their chests and cry for liberty.

 

Consensus fails to fill the room with glee

And harmony is but a poltergeist

Who manifests in vague chimeric veils

To dance and shift and gel to solid type.

 

And in the end their grand epiphany 

Befits the will of all who would be free.

 

Valhalla Awaits

The Ancients conceived and believed in the dream of

A golden land where the vanquished abide,

Those hero-inhabited hallowed halls,

           The splendor of Valhalla.

And the warrior weathers the

Flames of distress without fear or regret

For he knows in the end

His reward will surpass any

Wounds he may bear

As honor becomes his most trusted friend.

 

With valor and verve, he soars his spirit

To unnerving heights on rarified air.

No task too consuming,

No quest out of question,

He fights the brave fight to

Defend what is fair.

 

He must not fail.

He will not fail.

This valiant sentinel of war.

And when his sword and shield shall rest

He strolls Valhalla forevermore.

 

Free to Choose

There was a time - eons ago - when

Choices were much simpler.

A left, a right,

A yes or no,

On or off, up or down,

A smile, a frown, a blank response,

A pill to ease a restless night.

 

We were young with foolish hearts,

No thought of how the world ensues.

Little to win,

           Less to lose,

But we were free,

           Free to choose.

 

Now the weight of worlds roll by and

Here stand I dazed and confused.

The when and what,

The where and why,

My whole life passing in review.

 

But duty calls and I must go.

No petty purpose can excuse.

I will fight and

I will serve

So others may be free to choose.

 

Visions of Liberty

Dare I wake tempestuous dreams of

Stormy skies and trembling walls to

Stumble through the midnight mire,

The wanton waste named Yesterday.

 

Who can chase this clamoring cacophony of

Warning bells?

Who will quell this quivering, this shivering

Of servitude?

 

Once, in youth, a vision stirred

Beneath the willows sheltering arms

Where every heart is filled with hope,

A prophesy of pristine realms.

 

But fate is cruel and Caesar’s rule

Requires a tribute to be paid,

Hard decisions to be made before

The ogre overwhelms.

 

The muddled masses must arise

In fervor and intensity

To keep the dream, the quest alive.

The vision of sweet liberty.

 

Patriot Dreams

Standing on the precipice of

           Willful measure,

Far removed from

Rambling reality

He holds his breath… and waits

In watchful vigilance.

Prepared to give,

           To live…

                      To die

If die he must to keep them safe.

He never stops to question why.

The why was answered long before

His watchful eyes reflected on             

The distant haze of far horizons.

 

Lessons from the bowels of Hell have

Been his teacher,

Taught him well,

Filled his nights with restless dreams of

Secrets he can never tell.

Failure? Unacceptable.

A traitor’s wage is paid in blood.

The patriot will never sleep

Til others stand where he has stood.

 

All Hallows Eve

Eerily, the shroud descends,

Veiled in mists of Hallows Eve,

As spirits amble in the mist

Reaching from their netherworld

To touch, to feel the naked flesh

Of those who walk and talk and breathe,

To feel the heartbeat of their blood,

A kinship to reality.

 

Children quake as darkness draws

A demon host from murky lair,

Ghouls and witches primed to scare,

Bats and black cats everywhere.

With mask and costume to disguise

They set out on their ghostly trek.

A trick they sport in lieu of treats

Belays the caution in their eyes.

 

All is magic,

Nothing planned

On Hallows Eve

When spirits rise.

 

Easter Sunrise

Sunday sunrise

Always a blessing,

Marvelous message

Of Faith’s revelation.

Harboring hope

As the dawn breaks horizon,

Sowing the seeds

Of a new world creation.

 

Hearken the herald,

The spirit has risen.

Rise in revival,

His praises to sing.

Pray for the pilgrims

Who seek without finding

The calm and the comfort

Redemption can bring.

 

Eyes to envision,

Lips to give praise.

Sunrise to sunset

Now and always.

 

The Graduate

Handshakes and hugs

And broad smiling tears,

Confident speeches to

Veil silent fears,

And time pauses briefly

Recalling the years

As the graduate

Glides ‘cross the stage.

 

Backslapping well-wishers

Seem to abound as the

Honorees hover

Five feet off the ground

And nowhere for miles

Can a dry eye be found

As each book

Opens a new page.

 

Glittering hope casts

Her sparkling beams

And offers her bosoms

To nurture new dreams,

To fill with a prospect

That bursts at the seams

And the clock cannot wither

With age.

 

Summers Come, Summers Go

Oh, how we ached in the chill of December

For the sultry swoon of summer’s days,

Where time is a turtle free of his shell

Floating soft on holiday.

 

And fragrant fields and meadows yield

A sensory boondogglement,

As air stands still upon the hill

And summer rains are heaven-sent.

 

Away you probing question marks.

Away you wicked doubts and fears.

How dare you bore upon my door

Now that summertime is here?

 

Tis only playful summer’s guests

Can enter here, can pound their chest

And dance the dance of folly’s fool

Until the sun sleeps in the west.

 

But even summer runs hers course

As autumn bites upon her nape,

And the turtle waits inside his shell

To taste the wine of summer’s grape.

 

Prom Night

Tuxedo Barons,

Belles of the ball,

Limousine luxury,

Sequins and glitter,

 

Streamers abound and

Ice sculptures drown

As young maidens flush

With their hearts all atwitter.

 

Painted eyes,

Starry skies,

Ripe for romance,

Couples sway to and fro,

Ready to dance.

 

Music streams,

Couples beam,

Passions ignite,

Memories born

On this magical night.

 

Fourteen Hundred Ninety Two

In fourteen hundred ninety two…

You know the rest.

Of course, you do.

Three ships upon uncharted seas

Unfurled their sails to venture west

Seeking passage, swift and new,

To fill the Royal treasure chest.

Intrepid souls who knew no fear

Undaunted in their magic quest.

 

Upon the helm, with watchful eye

He glides into the great unknown.

Never seeking alibi

He knows the choice is his alone.

Never asking how or why,

Not a sigh, a moan or groan.

The threat of failure ever nigh,

Enough to chill him to the bone.

 

Alas, the crow’s nest faithful cry.

His quest at last is won.

Where hope walks free and eagles fly

A brand new world is born.

 

For Labors Unheralded

Heaven bless the working man,

Or woman, as the case may be,

For labors that have built a nation,

Made it strong,

Kept it free.

 

Day by day endures the trek,

Spaghettied byways

Overflowing.

Ceaseless days of repetition,

Watching with frustration growing.

 

Even while complaints may linger

As the endless hours drone,

Though his ire may peak aplenty,

He will never take it home.

 

Home to where his world makes sense,

A different kind of recompense,

Where labors wear a sweeter flavor

Sheltered by a picket fence.

 

1776

Seeds of oppression sewn from afar

Germinate slowly when thrown in the mix,

Until growing unrest feeds the fodder of cannons.

It happened in 1776.

 

A king’s heavy hand sent ire through the land.

“What burden of tyranny next he inflicts.”

The voices cried out. In defiance they shouted

And echoed in 1776.

 

Merchants and farmers and woodsmen alike

With rifles and sabers, pitchforks and sticks

Assembled as one on Lexington Green.

A prequel to 1776.

 

From Bunker to Breeds

Through marshes and reeds

Until Cornwallis pleads for an end to their tricks.

Through battle scars torn

A nation is born.

It started in 1776.

 

The Fools of April

Oh, you jokester,

Prankster, Fool,

Fearless in

Your pratfall follies.

Do you dare to

Break the rules with

Any tools at your command?

 

Obvious that you enjoy

The many tactics you employ

With faceless, feckless fortitude,

The masquerade of your decoy.

 

Never mind the price you pay

Or who your folly may annoy.

As long as you indulge your joy

And swiftly make your getaway.

 

Expert to economy,

Vanquisher of gloom and doom,

Forlorn frowns forgotten 

When the fools of April fill the room.

 

To Be Truly Thankful

In a world where so much can go wrong,

Will go wrong,

Often does,

It’s key to stop and oft reflect

On blessings dwelling ever near.

 

The quiet of the evening breeze

That sweeps away the sun-drenched day…

 

The blissful magic of “three words”

To wash away the hurt and pain…

 

The joyful laughter of a child,

Life unspoiled,

Song unsung…

 

Yielding to sweet slumbers' kiss,

A prayer to a departed sun…

 

Days creep by before they run

And we must heed the piper’s call.

         To be thankful…

         To be truly thankful

Is the greatest blessing of them all.

 

Another Saint in Kelly Green

Across the spectrum and beyond

There flows a sea of Kelly green

As celebration dances

To a jig for chasing cares away.

The laughing Pub,

The village square,

The shamrock flourish on parade,

And everyone is Irish

If only for a single day.

 

And saints preserve,

As saints may do,

The mystery of miracles,

The goodliness of Godliness,

Of daring deeds empirical.

And may an Irish blessing

Raise a torch on high

To light the way.

A lesson earned,

A lesson learned

On this, Saint Patrick’s day.

 

Springtime

Finally, respite form

Bone chills and teeth rattles,

Mittens and snow battles,

Shovels and scrapes.

No longer bundled in

Parka and woolen cap,

Breaking the frigid snap.

Blessed escape.

 

Nature erupts

In its vibrant illusion,

Precious profusion

Of color and scale.

Crocus and john-o-quill,

Tulips and daffodil,

Lilacs upon the hill,

Senses assailed.

 

Morning awakens as

Sweet dewdrops glisten

And new lovers listen

For robins to sing.

Time holds no meaning

And space knows no reason

For earth wears no season

More lovely than spring.

 

Kite Flyer

Oh, you fearless high flyer,

         Tree crasher,

                  Nose diver,

                            Loop the looper.

Where is your home,

You homemade wonder?

Who is the hero holding your fate?

 

Yesterday’s newspapers, twigs and twine

Loosely bound with flour paste.

Rag bag tail of red and paisley

Waiting for the wind to

Do its splendid magic

Lifting you so you can dance

Among the clouds,

Making gawkers strain their necks

With careless wonder at your ease.

 

And I, your pilot,

Groundsman, soul mate,

I am the master of your sky.

 

Valentine Lament

My love is pure,

My love is here,

My love is never far away.

She makes me laugh,

She makes me weep,

She turns my nighttime into day.

 

If I am cold

She gives me warmth.

If I am lost, she knows the way.

If I forget

She will recall,

She brings me back from yesterday.

 

She is my now

And my tomorrow,

To love, respect

And, yes, obey.

And when, at last, this life is o’er

We’ll meet in Heaven,

This I pray.

 

All the Presidents, When

To carry the weight of an outspoken nation,

To fearlessly lead with the Wisdom of Solomon,

Exalting compassion with gratitude

While viewing the masses

With forthright equality.

Neither extol nor decry their guile.

 

Champion to everyone,

Revered and reviled.

Servant to all,

Servile to none.

Walking the tightrope of gathered opinion

While plotting the course

Of Sweet Liberty’s cause.

 

And we who are witness

Will always remember,

Praise them or carp them,

But give them their due.

And whether the world be friend or foe

Let all be recorded in history’s vault.

 

When Groundhogs Speak

Daylight breaks

And he awakens

Groggy, stiff and unaware.

Rain or shine

Drought or drizzle,

Bang or fizzle,

Doesn’t care.

 

Humans watching,

Pert and pensive.

If he knew he’d lose all senses,

Hide behind the tallest fences,

Any respite from their stare.

 

Will he chance to see his shadow?

Will he forecast winter’s fate?

Can we trust in his prediction?

We will simply have to wait.

 

Dreams We Left Behind

The flame of youth so brightly glows.

Where it may lead, nobody knows,

Ah, but hope fills meadows as it grows

In heathered fields of dreams.

 

The whispering breeze from every tree

Offers a love song for you and me,

Oh, and life feels just like eternity

On feathered angel wings.

 

But winds of change come swift and low

To leave us in their afterglow

And our dreams are left to mellow

In the wine.

 

But we move on without regret

To roads we haven’t travelled yet,

Walking hand in hand we won’t forget

The dreams we left behind.

 

Our future moves into the past,

Dreams to memories, sweet at last,

And we reminisce as we hold fast

To dreams we left behind.