.jfif) |
| |
OUR YOUNG
They are safe as they play
Here among us today;
But, how safe will they play
On the morrow;
Since the strangers came in,
With a smile and a grin,
Thus to buy
What they never could borrow?
Using money and guile
And political style,
They got land
Which was prime and impressive.
Will our young ones soon shrink
From the water they drink,
‘Cause the toxins within are excessive?
Will the strangers provide
Waste for making our wide
Susquehanna a river of sorrow?
They are safe as they play
Here among us today . . .
But, will they safely play
On the morrow?
~~~~
THE ROMANCE OF WAR
Our young should know of war;
That pre-historic way
Men found to wound and slay . . .
To smear the land with gore!
Our young should early learn
!!!!
AN ACT OF SELF DEFENSE
Her Smile is a rebel Smile.
She knows the disarming art.
Her lips bring to light her guile:
A threat to my sov’reign heart.
💝
Guy Graybill's latest book is a compilation of written poems over the years--ones that were meant to be shared someday... Rhymes from the Hinterland brings to readers history, humor, romance and so much more... Guy has strong opinions; he shares them freely as one who writes poetry often does. For poetry is the words of need--a short time expressing what is in your mind or heart...
Sometimes heavy with warning, sometimes light in joy of life. Sometimes he writes with words of old, yet, the meaning for today seems so clear...
THE VIGIL MAINTAIN
So, you’ve put away all of your armor.
So, your lance you have now set aside!
And you say we have slain all the dragons?
Here our thinking is bound to collide.
You’re a fool, who is too soon deluded.
Our world’s yet the dark, beast-laden wood.
Here live creatures that hope to devour us;
Here are foes who would do us no good.
They are cloaked in a guise that is modern—
Like the razor-sharp blade in the sheath—
So that, outwardly, they appear harmless;
But, the ‘dragon’ still lurks underneath!
Some are nations that feign would embrace us; Others, groups that would offer us peace.
Some are concepts that promise Utopia . . .
The proverbial ‘wolves under fleece’?
All those brutes would, with ease, overpower us,
If we fell, importunely, asleep.
So, we must have the moat filled with Caution
And let Truth help us strengthen the keep.
We’ve no choice but to maintain the vigil,
And be certain our young can derive
A concern for the imminent dangers.
The alert are the ones who survive!
~~~~
UPBRINGING
While I was yet an infant,
My parents cast the die.
They weaned me on bologna;
They fed me rabbit pie.
And as a lad, a-growing,
They gave me kettle meat,
Along with steaming mince pies,
Both savory and sweet.
They set my tastes forever
And didn’t even try.
A carnivore they raised me;
A carnivore I’ll die.
😁
Some of my long-time readers will remember his book, Bravo, spotlighting music from Italy... I think I individually covered most of those individuals mentioned, more extensively at Book Readers Heaven. With this new book Guy has again become an ongoing contributor here, sharing over 160 poems found in this book through the upcoming moths or years... On the other hand, I've already read the entire book and can highly recommend it to all poetry readers.
As mentioned, style of writing changes, based upon the topic... I find it delightful that he adds a touch of "theatre" to each poem...
SUNRISE AND SADNESS
When hopes lie shattered on the shore,
Good friends are often wont to say:
“The Sun will rise; just as before.
Tomorrow is another day.”
That’s what good friends are wont to say.
But grave injustice came to call.
Yes, grave injustice came to stay.
So, I must dine on bitter gall
And I’m condemned to sip dismay,
No matter what good friends might say.
On days when duties don’t impede,
My will can’t push me from the cot.
If bladder does not intercede,
I’d rather slumber; rather rot,
Than join a world where truth’s forgot!
I curse the knaves who gain success
By trampling ethics under hoof.
One thought ignites my bitterness:
I sense the crime; but lack the proof . . .
I sense the crime; but lack the proof.
To know injustice, unerased,
Leaves morning’s joy forever gone;
With courage lost and hope effaced.
So long as justice is withdrawn,
Sunrise and sadness crow the dawn . . .
😞
Folks, this last poem spoke to me,
of attempts to progress backward...
For each day we see that,
indeed, a failing justice
How many thousands of years
has this gone on,
but never more
than today's sad morn
I don't profess to be a poet,
Yet words speaking truth
do call to me...
Thus, a responsive attempt by me...
😍
Plan on seeing Guy around along with other contributors... In the meantime, I suggest that you get your own copy and place it next to where you sit... Turn the noise of news down or read a poem or two during commercials. Each time a new one comes, you'll find that it may just speak to you as well...
GABixlerReviews
RELATIVE TIME
“How it flies!” said the conquering Romans,
Offering comment on Time’s rapid pace;
And they’ve now made a clock run by atoms,
Just to measure Time’s passage through space.
Now, if life can flash by in an instant,
And the earth, in a twinkling, will burn;
Oh, then, why does an hour seem eternal,
While I’m waiting for you to return?
💕
No comments:
Post a Comment