Mass shootings happen all the time
Without a reason, but with rhyme:
For thoughts and prayers and guns, demand
Will spike, but changes won’t be planned.
Still, best be safe: Shore up your stock
Of weaponry in case the shock
Of this one causes such regret
That we’ll do what we haven’t yet,
By which I mean, a single thing…
I kid! We won’t. Let freedom ring.
I overnuked my dinner, so
I’ll take a break to write. I know
Much better than when I was young:
Be patient, or I’ll burn my tongue!
…It smells so good. By now, I’ll bet
It’s cool enough, right?
Earth Day is the day we set
Aside to help us not forget
That where we live and work and play
Is getting sicker every day
Because we don’t remember to
Refrain from things we shouldn’t do
Like spew our poisons everywhere
We visit–oceans, earth and air–
Which shouldn’t be that hard, and yet
We need this day to feign regret
And promise we’ll do better soon…
And if we don’t, there’s still the moon!
I’ve risen and I’ve shone a bit.
It’s fine, but now I’m over it.
Dear Me (tomorrow):
Rise and shine!
That ache you taste is Friday’s wine.
Hydration is your friend, I’ll say.
You’ll thank me when you wake (today)!
However, if your attitude
Is something short of gratitude
While reading this because you spurned
Last night’s advice, perhaps you’ve earned
A bit of penance.
I’d like to help you convalesce
Because there’s lots I’ve planned to do
That won’t be fun for me or you
If one of us is seeing weather
Overhead. Let’s both, together,
And maybe next time listen when
I say ease off a bit, alright?
You (last night)
Spring showed up today!
Pollen, sun and crowded trails…
It’s nice anyway.
Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Very little tonight about Paul Revere.
On the 18th of April in ’75–
Hardly a person now alive
Would believe–a new message meant somebody’s here!
I’m serious: There was no texting, no phone,
And no messaging apps. Only snail mail, alone,
Of the methods by which we communicate now
Was around. You would unhitch your horse from your plow
And go visit–in person!–the person to whom
You had something to say; if you couldn’t somehow
Find a way to convey yourself right to the room
They were standing in, maybe you’d hire a guy
To deliver your note (and bring back the reply).
It’s difficult now to begin comprehending
The depth of the darkness when evening was ending
And moonglow alone shone a thin film of light
On the places still waiting for Ben Franklin’s kite
And the spark that it struck to be fanned to a flame
That was more revolutionary than the one
That Revere (and the friend whom the poem won’t name
When it’s written years later) that night had begun.
An IM back then meant direct line of sight
And a max of two characters! LOL, right?
It’s okay, say I’m lame. I think history’s fun!