O’ celestial delight!
O’ bright and lovely morning star!
Thou hast hastened my arousal,
and called to me from thy heavenly abode.
Thou doth sooth and comfort me with thy assured rising.
My own inner workings follow thee inadvertently.
Thou hath taken hold of the reins, as ye play the strings my heart.
O’ Venus! Holy poetry! Don’t you ever retrace your steps?
It is Saturn’s Day, by Jove! My only day off.
What do you want from me now?
♀
The day had finally arrived. Two more hours of required community service and I’d be done fulfilling my obligation to God and country. Well, to the county that is. I had chosen to serve my time at the animal shelter, the Capital Humane Society.
Now, people have numerous reasons for giving up their pets. Some reasons are good and justifiable, but a few are merely lame excuses. The answers for “why we wish to adopt” are easy, and usually simple. Most prospective owners have nothing but the best intentions in mind. On a normal day at the shelter, these exchanges are going on simultaneously. A wide variety of domesticated animals come in and they go out. Needless to say, more arrive than go out alive. That’s no secret.
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http://medicatedlady.wordpress.com/2009/07/20/beneath-the-bark-the-rooting-of-uncle-tree/
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Please come and give the dear lady a piece of your mind.
Watch out for splinters.
.
*
I went on this path one day
off the straight and narrow way
looking to find the unknown
unafraid to be alone
A skip in my stride
my smile a mile wide
passion perspiring inside
.
Suddenly, there’s a shadow
beside my own. “It can’t be so!”
No one came with me, I know
Nobody else wished to go
Who could it be then?
How shall I begin?
Where did it happen and when?
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Steady is the hand
keeping balance in the land
as it measures the cost
of freedom on demand
.
A hero’s song unsung
off the tip of a silent tongue
reminds us of the place where
only the good die young!
.
With red roses near
blue skies that stretch for years
those broad stripes and bright stars
prepare our youth for tears
.
“Left, right, left…” we stride
to breach the great divide
We must march together
or risk this nation’s pride
.
If In God We Trust
but for more loot we lust
the Golden Calf we’ll praise
half buried in the dust
.
About face!
.
As one united nation
let us move in the same direction –>
towards a day worth remembering
and a history worth repeating
.
.
In remembrance, we harvest the touchable
With all due respect, we negotiate the unspeakable
.
The fruits of our labor produce the cream of the crop:
those who question every law set in stone
who ponder over the face value of moral obligations
who are never satisfied until they go below the surface
who step outside the ring of glory with an act of self sacrifice
in order to find the story within
and the legend they may one day become
.
It was a slow death, undergoing the madness of a mental observation far below, and we, the mediators, caught in the web between darkness and darker still, stood stoney-faced and grim in the midst of the end. All eyes stared in horror as the milky life-light began to drain from the orb in a top-down effect. This earthly landscape, in a hesitant manner, crept into nightshade, and dimly reflected the morphed face, the pallor. Our sacred grounds, now devoid of every humble and loyal shadow, gave way. With a tremble, the earth echoed the low murmurs and raging rumblings of frenzied natives as they watched the scene through naked eyes. The souls of the dead lying in wait on the morbid disc stared back in turn. With a wicked longing for rebirth, their spirits moved, mirroring our dismay. The gloom of impending doom deepened the chasm between observer and observed. The pin-pricked holes emboldened themselves to shine on through the veil evermore brightly, and with a higher glory than ever before.
Primitives unleashed, all anew in virgin fright,
gazed at the last remaining sliver of light
as it shivered and quaked, and disappeared from sight
The ruddy corpse of Mother Moon frozen in Time, covered in ash as dust turned to rust from the inside-out, bid a final farewell to all who dwell below, and we on bended knee, returned the solemn vow, met halfway, mingled amongst lost thoughts, and absorbed the cold brand of magic in the last sparkling note. Thus, we repeated it forever with the sound of one voice, a single vibration. The hum itself was never heard again, only sensed, and lightly felt in the soul.
*
© Keith Alan Watson
*
The biggest man I know
is not really big at all
He’s always near to lend an ear
or to catch me when I fall
.
The wisest man I know
doesn’t claim to know it all
Though it’s plainly clear my father dear
is willing to heed the call
.
The greatest man I know
didn’t know he’d grown a tree
Although he knew just what to do
to bring out the best in me
.
.
My poems are like drives
that I hit off the tee
Some I hit straight
Some go left
Some go right
A few are obviously
*********************
out of bounds
.
I no longer miss the ball completely
Uncle Tree's House 