Saturday, June 24, 2006

All Poetry Edition

(P1) Political

This cartoon reminded me of when I wrote and published the following. Remember?

Pronouncing "Iraq"

Ear Rack or Ear Rock?
What implications?
(dismiss all Eye Rackers
for just who they are)

Ear Ack
Ear Ock
each tick
each tock

air attack
must whack
political hack
wolf pack
kick back
data track
pitch black
media claque
all those youngsters
ripped by flak
yack yack
spore sac

voting flock
cuckoo clock
where's John Locke
in dry dock
mental block
preening cock
full of schlock
writ in chalk
for mock and hock
loss of freedom block on block
despairing race against the clock

(P2) Poetical

I challenge any parent not to come close to weeping here with the great Robinson Jeffers.

from Contemplation Of The Sword

I have two sons whom I love. They are twins, they were born
in nineteen sixteen, which seemed to us a dark year
Of a great war, and they are now of the age
That war prefers. The first-born is like his mother, he is so
That persons I hardly know have stopped me on the street to
speak of the grave beauty of the boy's face.
The second-born has strength for his beauty; when he strips
for swimming the hero shoulders and wrestler loins
Make him seem clothed. The sword: that is: loathsome disfigurements,
blindness, mutilation, locked lips of boys
Too proud to scream.
Reason will not decide at last: the sword will decide.

Robinson Jeffers

(P3) Philosophical

Considering the amount of negativity we experience as we counsel positive efforts toward peace including the Dept. of Peace proposal, I was struck by friend Katleen Winter's witty poem:

Anti-Peace Activitists

The anti-peace activists congregate today
in our small green town,
as though to demonstrate there can only be

so much enlightenment, their pale faces
having had enough of it,
their mouths set grimly for business,

The sun slants past their signage on its way
to orchards, to vineyards, to the chill waves
falling over themselves to be touched.

This town is surrounded and the marchers
know it. Now, after years of getting by,
they feel themselves hedged (how did it happen?)

by the organic fields sown round their trim
streets, their downright houses, hemmed in
by the prevailing wind, loose views.

The anti-peace activists congregate today
in our small green town,
waving the flag like there's no tomorrow.

Kathleen Winter

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