Arizona Poet Laureate ................ ............ "the Emotional Content of Literature"

Don't Yell at the Wind by Bob Atkinson

2012-03-05T01:03:00.000-07:00

Don't Yell at the Wind

don't yell at the wind for doing

what it does to things we've made

isn't something one can argue

just inhale deeply, be fascinated

we seem to favor status quo

over our long term good

and never, ever seem to

do those things we should

if we wish to be correct

and plan out rightly now

seems to me there are some issues

we need to address, and how !!

we have a lack of ingrown armor

construct flimsy weak abodes

while fighting over that which

has little substance shown

the assumptions we must make

if we are to survive and grow

should go the way of planning

not mud at each other thrown

first it is assumed

Earth changes in an instant

oceans fill their basins

then jump quickly out of them

the winds are calm most times

then they really blow quite mean

and scrape all life from the ground

those things we've grown and seeded

the ground is firm beneath our feet

seems mostly hard as solid rock

then, like jelly it vibrates waves

which knock us on our butts

sky is blue in normal times

but sometimes it's the color red

sometimes we breathe clear fresh air

sometimes bad air makes us dead

stars remain floating in the sky

most times when we look up

yet, sometimes they attack us fiercely

and really muck things up

to know all of these simple facts

and ignore what they mean

seems to me to be one faulty

unstructured life plan scheme

we could start today the goal

building what we need and want

to keep our lives safe and warm

protecting our good seed from harm

would mean we'd have a purpose

would mean we'd have to work

to clear up all naive struggles

the things that make us jerks

Gainsborough by Bob Atkinson

2012-02-29T21:56:00.002-07:00

Gainsborough

born in the year '27

in Taurus, a good sign

late in the evening's darkness
a Wednesday's crisp spring night

he gave what few had given

in those days of circumstance

something to the world at large

beyond both song and dance

captured memories of the past

those golden scenes of his depiction

those expressive faces
and flowing gowns

all now gone, or ripped to pieces

those beauties with fine faces

those smiles and sulking looks

those poses without expression

those frowns of devil's hooks

today we have what isn't ours
because he was a man
who could leave for all to see
what life looked like back then

died in '88
an event for us to lament
his passing tore from our hearts
one of history's best connections

have this feeling we cannot shake
we know it very well, indeed
the internal wanting, craving
to view those early seeds

seeds sewn that created us

those seeds of circumstance

so different from our own we see

what has become such emptyness

those with such different mores
those times of struggle to stay alive
those times of life much harder
those times of fierce internal pride

those things we grew apart from
those character traits adorned
of those now dead and buried

still able to teach us better norms

Bohemian Gathering Place

2012-02-26T13:22:00.001-07:00

Bohemian

Gathering Place

find a place where you can go

to see those bodies of like mind

those who, as you, live in thought

which creates the art so fine

artistic words and sculptures

brush stroked canvas portraits

those things we all love to hate

created from nothingness

by strong internal mind forces

not so easy to arrive

at the station they all go

you must be famous or getting there

or you'll get that old cold shoulder

sensing feelings in the room

those bohemians who agitate

with brush and pen and clay to form

art with fine skilled graces

then there are those who have

adopted the written word

as their choice for display of

artistic or evil thoughts absurd

or,

for political agitation

if that is what they seek

trying to get across those precepts

they hold and loudly speak

so, their ways fit into

attitudes of this group of saints

becomes a cause given to much thought

which can drive artistic creation

create that which was before

but a blank page or canvas

or ball of clay laid on the floor

now formed to judges satisfaction

Portrait of Frederic Villot by Bob Atkinson

2012-02-17T20:51:00.000-07:00

Portrait of

Frederic Villot

oh my such a scandal

like something from the masters

a portrait of a friend for life

done with tradition's grain

not fiddling with imagination

not playing with design

or working with those new techniques

that worry critics' minds

here is a friend in close detail

as near to life as could

be had with brush and oils

and memory that's good

no smile of appreciation

a model serious in outlook

someone going to be the man

who catalogs at the Louvre

now here in the early times

friends who need each other

begin a bond for a lifetime

by studying closely one another

the Duel of Manet and Duranty by Bob Atkinson

2012-02-17T18:07:00.002-07:00

the Duel of Manet and Duranty

two friends were having coffee

on the Avenue de Clichy

was not the 23rd, a Wednesday

but the 24th of February

a Thursday when all who came

to see Manet talk of Art

felt the passion of those voices

when he and Duranty fought

laughed and joked, and said some things

they wished they had not said

in the end it got quite serious

when Manet slapped Duranty's head

then with each other louder still

each spoke some evil words

bantered back and forth with fire

at each other madly cursed

let us go back a bit

to the center of the stage

when this all began

what caused these fellow's rage

Manet had entered in the show

two paintings he had done

and Duranty told the folks in town

these works were but hum drum

Duranty as a critic of Art

in the art world quite well known

Manet was only an artist

who shoved his ideas home

was not a long drawn dissertation

Duranty had designed

just a few words of caution

on these works he thought not fine

he believed the truth was good

at least the truth he saw

so when Manet objected to

words with his pen drawn

the two friends got in a spat

on the Avenue de Clichy

at the Cafe' Guerbois

near the center of the city

the anger built in each of them

was not a pretty sight

Manet had objected to

what he thought not right

so when one friend struck the other

with hand across the head

was not something expected

was something one should dread

Duranty asked him

"Sir would you "apologize for that?"

to which Manet answered back

"Not even to my hat"

"Sir then I must ask you

to give me satisfaction

on the field of honor

that is what I'm asking"

two friends fought a bitter duel

with swords on the battlefield of honor

with seconds standing in to stop it

when one sliced the other's arm

next day two friends drank some beer

coffee not strong enough for them

kept friendship alive in spite of fights

spoke words of gentle caution

*note

Baudelaire's take on all of this:http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/duellum-the-duel/

At The Cafe 1878 - Manet

2012-02-17T15:39:00.004-07:00

At The Cafe 1878

she looked to the side at him

her mind was in a rage

"how dare you stare in such a manner"

she said with open airs

with humble roots below him

he did not give reply

just smiled and looked away

wanting openly to cry

how could she make him feel so small?

how could she irritate

his ego in such an open manner

taking food off of his plate

the others seemed not to notice

more interested in their beer

than what this lady of no distinction

had chatted on so fiercely

don't peg me in that square hole

thought the man with beard so full

don't let me introduce myself

to such a foul mouthed girl

the lady waiting for her beer

pretended not to hear

frozen waiting for tension to pass

no muss, no fuss, no fears

there behind them in the room

others rambled onward with their tomes

about their lives, wants and desires

cost of cigars and homes

here in the smoky atmosphere

of Brasserie Reichshoffen's walls

on the boulevard Rochenchourt

drama had been drawn

in the open field of dreams

where all had run across

the senses, stares and wild desires

of consequence for those of us

us, who let their dreaming

influence their outer looks

and seem to transmit feelings

best left within their thoughts

Baudelaire by Bob Atkinson

2012-02-15T21:56:00.003-07:00

Baudelaire

freedom of speech is relative

as he learned with Les Fleurs du mal

to speak of things best left unsaid

can be one's quick downfall

characters upon the words

which sailed from his closed lips

to the pen and hence the paper

included unspoken forbidden quips

one who ruled the paper's points

and threw caution to the gale

indeed always set his sights

on that which might ever fail

and fail he did to bring along

the people to their freedom

of word, of thought of simple deed

into that maelstrom dreaming

dreaming of his natural fears

those which he did equate

to violence, lust and all those ideals

which had shaken, brutally, all of us

now the times have come full circle

who do we have to blame

for those animations we expose

to our children with their games

I, in my selfishness, feel he is my kin

although his bravery exceeds my own

my senses recall his themes

simple long lost whims of life

that which throws one back

to the ageless barbaric soul

of those whose lives are past

the Empty Protest by Bob Atkinson

2012-02-15T00:17:00.000-07:00

The Empty Protest

if and when I was to be

set within a group

would want the banner to exclaim

my many complex roots

say out with letters really high

that my efforts are sincere

not trying to find some strange way

to establish something queer

can't say it isn't right

when nobody knows what it is

that's the secret to its life

without which would disappear

so you say I did you wrong

but not say how or why

gives me a sinking feeling

are you just pie in the sky?

may be wrong in this assessment

don't have all good facts

about the whys and wherefores

and all those this and thats

tell me plainly

what is your purpose

I will participate in earnest

show me what you mean with this

don't show me pompous rear ended quips

don't drag down what is built

without something complex to replace it

for I think you may be someone's toad

or someone without directional graces

Simple by Bob Atkinson

2012-02-14T23:54:00.002-07:00

Simple

satiate the ordinary

elevate the sublime

rotate without demand

mucking up the crime

tossing ego to the wind

within a frame of mind

wiggling out of it

when pointed out in line

sure, one can idolize

look to those who stay

within the frame of what's good

or bad in any way

here, with ordinary thoughts

those that propagate

all who feel that way too

sit quietly and wait

wait for more to be said

and explained along the way

sad for me for I have longed

for the older, simple days

Purpose by Bob Atkinson

2012-02-14T08:26:00.002-07:00

Purpose

carry me home

no, let me walk

to the place

where I was born

stand and breathe so deeply

as if for the first time

stretch and feel nature

as she surrounds our lives

turn and look the other way

then back this way again

over the shoulder then up

to the sky with colored bands

all is calm within this realm

all satisfies the wants

to have been is what I feel

is plenty good enough

The Real Art of War by Bob Atkinson

2012-02-10T11:07:00.000-07:00

The Real Art of War

no matter whom you fight

no matter what the foe

take care to treat them gently

for someday you will know

they may become one of you

or you'll be one of them

and bitter feelings left behind

can bring all life to ruin

don't fight the enemy toe to toe

engulf him with your good

and let him know when he dances

you'll clap to his wild moves

try to understand his reason

try to know him quite well

try to give him your good side

before you send him straight to hell

avoid mass violent carnage

collect his units whole

cut him off and let him find

his strength can't carry him home

take him to your good side

tell him all you know

and let his own reason

upon all loving peace bestow

if your good side is shallow

if your pride is false

let him know you have learned

from his fathers' patient talk

Leander's Battle by Bob Atkinson

2012-02-07T23:40:00.005-07:00

Leander's Battle

in November, the year before

she'd been launched amid great cheer

her namesake fought many hard battles

had been captured and then released

many seas had seen the old one's keel

many ships and captains too

had found great glory or harsh shame

in her, as soldiers and sailors tend to do

now a new form sailed the waves
christened with the Leander name
but on this night her broadsides held

not victory to add to her fame

on the waves was thirsted
that martial will of man
to gain control over others
always was their devious plan

yet here in the harbor of Baltimore

was assigned only bombardment duty

had sought the glory of pitched battle

like fighting Napoleon's strongest navy

how could she find lasting fame

when all her guns were trained

not on a man o' war

but on the buttressed shore?

the fort, McHenry, stood so still

no maneuver or return fire there

no running fight, was bombed at night

with five dozen guns aflame

she gave as good as a 4^th rate could

shoving terror to the souls

who manned the fort and kept the fight

from moving quickly to the shore

in the morning she had seen

the flag of rebellion wave

quite tattered, the fort was battered

yet still flew glory upon that stake

the pole it had been raised there on

seemed to peacefully flutter the flag

here in the light that passed the night

still stood, was all that mattered

so nothing much caused a change

in where the battle flowed

except upon one ship called "Thundering”

where Francis Key had seen the glory

an eighty gun ship of the line

captured from the French at Aboukir

seemed destined to lead the conquest

of those upstarts, the colonist curs

bombarded in the dark of night

had not been left to rest

the fort stayed true to its belief

in honor over bartered peace

stripes and stars shined ever brightly

seemed they ever would

never leaving conquest to those whom
her people grossly misunderstood

to not strike colors in the glow

of such a fiery rain

held pride above all mortal trials

in this forceful warrior's game

Key, the poet, saw Leander
in her glory void

not take that banner to the ground
with guns ablaze for hours

left him feeling pride so deep

that he wrote the whole story down
gave his poem to the world
so they could recall the sounds

My Dream by Bob Atkinson

2012-02-05T22:06:00.001-07:00

My Dream

my dream is of a country

of many different ways

that which is different

that which is the same

that which gives

and that which takes

and that which lays out strong

pretty cities in vast flat valleys

clearly flowing water falls

deep harbors at her oceans

where ships come and go

to transfer our great wisdom

to so many other folks

that which we conquer

because of who we are

proves we are responsible

top dogs and best at arts

my dream is that we become

not dependent upon the chance

for storm and ice and heat of night

to break our brothers' backs

my dream is that we

not fight to prove who's right

killing persons should hold horror

not fists held to the sky

those awful sinful motives

false justification for wrong lives

props up the cycle of violence

that brings misery to all eyes

if selfish in our actions

by giving power only to our bands

we find we have retreated

in our desire to hold good stand

this takes us back to the primitive

and preys upon those falsehoods

some teach to their own kind

raising useless little broods

my dream holds that we

build cities that will last

tall and long which connect together

other towns within our lands

let them not rise above

ugly streets paved with black asphalt

with lines of power strung as if
like a frayed wicker basket

spires are not well thought out

take so much to time to build

they give us not the beauty

or function we need shining through

if we build the better way

we can organize

a country where all the lands

reach for all outstretched hands

long, along the highways

nearly high up to the clouds

our cities need reach to the east

and west at the same time

trains held within their ribbons

that give all access to

everyone so we can feel harmony

if that's what we want to do

let the rocks fall on our heads

let the ocean waves

wash ashore in high shelves

our lives will be the same

because we have learned

barbarity isn't pride

spitting into faces prompts

sadness in all our lives

we should find it isn't right

to kill those whom we oppose

while licking our own wounds

sitting in our rubbled homes

why not join together?

in desires as exposed

building lives of peaceful dreams

the good life for all we know

Making One's World by Bob Atkinson

2012-02-05T20:44:00.003-07:00

Making One's World

to sense the superior nature

of one's world and mind

has a natural origin

in biology derived from science

with others one may not be

familiar with those strange lives

or state of learning or progression

that comes with those different minds

minds that give into base

feelings of primitive souls

minds that hate the others

because of who they are

ignorance may be bliss

or simply stupidity on the side

when one looks at the unalike

with a strong false sense of pride

we all have our strengths

we all have those weaknesses

which give us all our frame of mind

our aggressions and our sheepishness

to look at and see others in

a strong judgmental way

holds only shallow meaning

reducing our status because of hate

another may feel the same

who is right? we'll never know

who holds the candle higher?

who promotes the better show?

evolution's progression

that which we aspire to

creates the beast of most strength

by saying “we” not “you”

The Leander Affair

2012-02-05T10:16:00.002-07:00

The Leander Affair

such is the way we see

ourselves as in the middle

while others see us in the wrong

some just play their fiddles

Leander comes to mind as such

an example of the ways

in which questions of right and wrong

were subordinated to the stronger arm

back in imperial days

when force was used for profit

men of arms carried out their orders

without insight or strength to stop it

Leander stood off the coast

looking for evidence of trade

with those with whom the empire

fought their silly forceful game

some called themselves in the right

some knew they were in the wrong

yet either way their martial deeds

caused fire and death to throngs

finding one can loose his head

by minding traditions inert

hence setting off real emotions

of those marching across the dirt

few ships spanned the time

when force was used so much

as a simple way of life

violent promotion of them against us

some who had those histories

of lives so parallel

took to the martial ways

which sent them all to hell

hell can be defined as

where the evil go

or where the struggle takes us

on this road to our Alamo

Leander fought for many years

not for simple right or wrong

she fought for defined ways

upon which nature urged her on

natural conflict between all parties

who struggle to dominate

with thoughts and preachings,

holistic teachings

and violence for those who take

a stance against the other

whose empire wants to control

minds and commerce

through simple dominance

along that old dog's road

Plight of the Jellyfish by Bob Atkinson

2012-02-01T12:36:00.001-07:00

Plight of the Jellyfish

forty guns she had aboard

launched in year eighteen ten

her purpose meant for war upon

those seas so far from France

a simple sailor's hard won dream

a beautiful fast ship of combat

so wonderfully equipped and manned

through waves she slipped so briskly

a captain appointed doubtfully

for reasons not clearly known

sailing skill and wise decision making

were lacking, yet he had backed the throne

headed for the Bank of Arguin

to become embroiled in distress

confused guidance carried her

below the surface to rest

Gericault captured pain of death

inflicted upon the men of salt

seizing, freezing emotions of struggle

in that painting of the deadly raft caught

caught out where it left

those men with so few options

survival at first was offered

then in the end withdrawn from them

tow ropes were cast off

leaving souls to ponder fate

of those who lacked the basic needs

to reject death as something strange

all who trusted lives with faith

to the captain amateur

felt the wrath of incompetence

as salt waves broke overboard

decisions less smart than bold

the triumph of ego over sense

she blew out her hull from pressure

as she scraped wood

against hard granite

in a later time when a ship followed

in the way of this fine craft

following too close to shore again

resulted again in more pain and death

as a white ship touched the shoals

to sink decks beneath the waves

was revealed that her captain too

broke the hull upon rocks raised

so twice and many more times

a captain left to chance

the survival of ship and men

by lacking common nautical sense

a ship is made for the ocean

upon it gracefully she glides

needing water under keel

without it she will surely die

die the death incongruous

how could he navigate

so close to those rocks of danger

smashing hull upon mortality's open gate?

Taxing Problem by Bob Atkinson

2012-01-26T08:39:00.000-07:00

Taxing Problem

we have our county government

the city has one too

then there is the state

which has something else to do

again we have the federal

that overgrown balloon

and in Europe they've created another

which they simply call the “Union”

purpose of which is to expand

on that oh so purposeful deed

tax the wealthy, tax the rich

which is taxing to you and me

take away any freedom

take away my pride

with each dollar going to

that different flag which files

take what has been made

and spend it where you please

throw away the hard earned pot

that we would like to keep

isn't that we believe

in starvation at a level

where children go without

or people have no shelter

problem isn't only at the top

though top needs to be addressed

problem is at both ends

where we've created quite a mess

oligopoly and monopoly have been arranged

where market share of great size

is gotten by a game of stealth

by swallowing the other guy

this game is acquisition

requires taking all fierce competition

and buying it with future earnings

to be gotten by price increases

then at the bottom we have the lot

who think procreation is their job

and taking from the government

has become their rightful pot

they don't wish to expand

on what has come before

just wish to use what they can

and stay home behind their doors

my simple recommendation

from my simple mind

is don't let any get that big

reduce the maximum size

and at the other end

don't squeak and squawk and moan

about what the other guy has done

if you've not moved your bottom bone

Compound Locomotion by Bob Atkinson

2012-01-24T09:59:00.000-07:00

Compound Locomotion

compound locomotion

begins movement at the start

pulsing in its inclination

to push all those wicked hearts

stretching close bonds between

remaining still or moving backwards

hard pulses of independence

rattle status quos as it shatters

by breaking all those directed paths

of minds who would conform

to that which nature has produced

in her effort to move us onward

many, many ways become

expansions of the soul

with compound locomotion

driving us to our homes

the alternative moves within

the group's directional norm

and gives up all advancement

in exchange for social comfort

comfort becomes the ease

with which we give up the ghost

and die without knowing

did we accomplish all we hoped

The Mother of Whistler and Poets by Bob Atkinson

2012-01-22T11:55:00.002-07:00

The Mother of Whistler and Poets

she sat there not knowing

she'd be the main attraction

in the struggle for dominance

of production over passion

those with credentials

that sat upon the pot

rarely defecated

in their erudite response

to the charge they had been given

progression of the form

learned definitions

written poorly in those stones

she sat there posing smugly

broadening appeal in her game

taunting generations of producers

to feed upon meal's grains

this poet feels her comfort

lives within her realm

watching those with letters

pushed behind their names

produce that which is abhorrent

and doesn't fit the need

of those wishing emotional content

be contained in poetry's refrains

content that has broad meaning

and pushes us to find

that soul we hide within our hearts

in the back-side of our minds

Bless Those of the Waters by Bob Atkinson

2012-01-15T12:16:00.002-07:00

Bless Those of the Waters

oh, bless the waters truly blue

to the lives of many men

who live the gallant life of sacrifice

and pain over and again

theirs gives a tribute to the soul

of that which doesn't always win

but expends those efforts anyway

has been this since the world began

true to traditions garnered

of many, many in the past

from Smith to Billy Tyne

and countless other thousands

here is the quest of mankind

to expand and conquer all

to rise beyond the simple fears

dying for it, or standing tall

upon the mountains or the oceans

running down fast river flows

up to the heavens beyond the clouds

or deep into the earth's bowels

we see them as heroes

we see them in their travails

we glow in their accomplishments

and watch them sometimes fail

Animal of the Seas by Bob Atkinson

2012-01-15T11:31:00.001-07:00

Animal of the Seas

wandering through the oceans

the ship circled coasts

where people lived the lives

of traditions well toasted

toasted to by those who thought

continuance was success

of what had before been lives

lived out for the best

plowing through the waters

freed from cables and chains

this large animal of luxury

gave satisfaction in place of pain

unseen below the keel

unseen by others' eyes

the beast with throbbing engines

passed over hardened sands

sands upon which flora anchored

and fauna roamed and bucked

when waters left the oceans

below their uncovered crust

but now the large strange animal

which floated upon the crests

of waves of endless waters

kissed the lands that it had blessed

the Captain was surprised

to feel this kiss of death

of the sands below the vessel

knew his career was at an end

frozen, his instincts churned

his mental processes stopped

tried to find a consummate response

while asking for damage assessments

instructed helm to veer toward

the Island of Giglio

he would save the passengers

by sacrifice of his vessel's hull

again the steel animal ground

this time upon a rock

tearing into deeply chewing

its rivets and steel plates

impaled by this large stone

the hull no longer held

water back, the ocean

was by the ship inhaled

bunks that had been slept in

by crews of many nations

and stores of goods to be used

to produce smiles in patrons

flooded down the hallways

never to be used

as they were intended

was the end of this cruise

the crew responded faithfully

did the best they could

but this situation being new to them

wasn't easily understood or stable

those who should have known

what was the ordered way

of ship evacuation to safety

let their communications stray

stray to words of their home tongue

not understood or heeded

by those who lashed the lifeboats

not dropping them neatly into the ocean

the ship assumed the form of

a sea animal in distress

leaning over on its side

wanting only a moment's rest

passengers did what they could

the crew did the same

and rescue boats and helicopters

jumped into the saviors' game

co-ordination wasn't needed

each assistant knew his job

saving as many passengers

as dictated by the hand of God

Absolutes

2012-01-08T19:09:00.000-07:00

Absolutes

up down and sideways

our position's located where

the order of our environment

becomes the situation we declare

it's basically in the mind

where our position's mapped at

the co-ordinates of our feelings

and our simple tit for tats

how much stays real, we cannot know

when truth lies at the bottom

who's reality gives us rock solid

terra firma foundation markings?

so when you refer to absolutes

state absolute from what

that which anchors your meanings

measures the reality of truth and love

Before by Bob Atkinsona

2012-01-08T15:22:00.000-07:00

Before

he sat out his later years

a quiet, peaceful man

telling those around him

had always been like that

serious though he might seem

about his early life

no thunder could be louder

than his bark as well as bite

now, as you look at him

a slow and peaceful man

you think he could be useful

with a broom and large dust pan

yet when the fires raged

and the bullets zipped right by

he had been light on his feet

and with his fellows very sly

so when you see a stranger

don't put him in a hole

that may not fit his way of life

or, the way he was so long ago

The Need by Bob Atkinson

2011-12-12T07:31:00.000-07:00

The Need

the need we feel in our hearts

to gather all our good parts

and spread that ever far and wide

exposes to all our best side

this need, it shames us sometimes still

frustrates us much when we feel

we're not as loving as we'd wish

should take and savor more of that dish

surely devoid of satisfaction

in this era of sour inaction

we must assess our direction

better selections toward progression

cities built with thought in mind

how one moves from side to side

how we all gather to

enjoy each others' better moods

we sit so long on our padded ends

when there is much work to be done

dividing energies into those efforts

that produce the most good treasures

need be the call of today

shout not at others that they are wrong

build always a partnership of song

working together for the good of all

Christmas by Candle Light by Bob Atkinson

2011-11-29T14:29:00.001-07:00

Christmas

Candle Light

wax dripping, light waving

dancing memories in your heart

the candles flicker brightly

as you're darning your socks

tree lights ablaze

as thoughts re-appear

from old times, were good times

we've put on many years

tree lights of ages

past youth's active stages

done all the dreams

we set out to do

tree lights bring memories

of people gone from your life

through death and moving on

into others' lives

was good those things

we did together, and apart

building that good life

and never having wants

now it is over

all we have left

are flames from the candle

hope we did our best

tree lights ablaze

as thoughts re-appear

from old times, were good times

we've put on the years

tree lights of ages

past youth's active stages

done all the dreams

we set out to do

Arizona Poet Laureate by Bob Atkinson

2011-11-14T12:09:00.013-07:00

ArizonaPoet Laureate

they saw theneed for moderation

in the dailythoughts of men

some deepreflective deliberation

to draw ustogether as friends

search theydid for that which

becomes oh sohard to find

common groundfor progress

which feedsthe needs of all kinds

support forthose issues

which laybehind our times

comes slowlywhen divisiveness

brings asudden call to arms

if directedtoward the past

we see othersperform

those actionsin a context

so very closeto ours

hindsight's amap available to us

as we movethrough life

if we chooseto absorb the lessons

of historyfrom our fathers

haven't wecome beyond

that oldselfish outlook

to a pointwhere we can satisfy

our egos without mortal conflict?

Building Harmony by Bob Atkinson

2011-11-12T20:12:00.000-07:00

Building Harmony

bring in effort, bring in organization

bring in need, assemble resources

move together as if one being

satisfying everyone's needs

carry on if you will

about this or that wrong action

protest, fight or just delay

progress as an example

what you do with your discord

is discordant in the least

and carries no real virtue

to all peoples on the street

raising ire of rank and file

by blame and character assassination

shames the ones who do this deed

and destroys their useful contribution

without the charity given to others

that some profess to seek

one cannot build a machine of people

that moves us toward a peak

don't tell me how my civilization

is wrong in its approach to commerce

then tear it down without shame

giving not a substitute in the bargain

those who steal the cohesive form

from that which has been built

gain nothing for their peers

but shame and discontent

some sit back and blame others

for that which has not been done

while holding the useless in high esteem

those who sit upon their buns

carry not the temperament

of one who always cries

about what others do or don't do

while lying on one's backside

effort gives us a stake in the game

power comes from doing actions

not as we see others mimic the productive

by undoing normal transactions

false power emanates from destruction

as an illusion, not a rational force

destiny of man always proceeds

in due time with a direct course

all building together in harmony

not promoting emotional discontent

gathers us together as one

for everyone's betterment

in changing course of everyone

toward some united point

the waters no longer fight our progress

but rise and shoot us downhill

all flow moves toward our goal

all thoughts are of a kind

all wages paid fairly

every building built shines

we find we no longer need to cry

about what we do not have

because those things
that mean the most

glow inward and are expanded

The Three Way War by Bob Atkinson

2011-11-06T12:32:00.000-07:00

The Three Way War

the blue fought the gray

bare skin fought them both

the blue fought the bare skin

the gray did so also

as scissors covers paper

as paper covers stone

as stone breaks scissors

the southwestern conflict

continued on and on

civilians of all three kinds

were killed outright or sent packing

while the two opposing armies

fought in the east

within prescribed battles

the natives of this land

fought and died for it

for all the time they'd been here

was not a new occurrence

they had a different nature

independence was their game

no collective reflex here

rattled through their brains

they did not see a need

for reliance upon each other

they couldn't think as coyotes did

unless they had good leaders

a leader such as Red Sleeves

who organized the lot

keeping forces together

while freeing them from hunger

on the two other sides

were subordinated wants

to the “good of the whole”

not the “good of the one”

ideals of a higher nature

whether right or wrong

drove the blue and gray

in their battles all day long

they felt a kinship not appealing

to those both sides fought

no right or wrong in these decisions

only what “God had wrought”

so, three sides who looked to “God”

for guidance in their acts

did that which was abhorrent

to one's thoughts while sitting back

easy it is to condemn

those living in those conditions

while viewing from a different time

what had been thoughtful decisions

was not without rational motives

actions were proposed

although in hindsight barbarity

is open and exposed

when seeing with different eyes

situations never felt

or deeds required for survival

of one's people and one's children

they merely dealt the deck of life

they had been born into

doing that which seem so normal

to only those they knew

wild men of different clothing

blue, gray or bare skin

fought and died as they believed

was best for them and their kin

and they prayed to the holy deity

the one they believed was best

while sending to the enemy

thoughts of violent conquest

were justified in their actions

by stating loudly for all to hear

theirs was the “Good Everlasting”

which belonged only to their peers

the Good Guys vs the Bad Guys

2011-10-17T23:56:00.003-07:00

The Good Guys

The Bad Guys

the good guys fought the bad guys

or was it the other way around

the mean ones fought the nice ones

I think that's how it's done

or is it that the ones who lied

pushed at their neighbor's door

and took to them a battle bloody

because they were overly bored

not happy with their station

they needed a smart ruse

to keep the peoples' eyes upon

something other than the news

yes, they were most insincere

taking all they could of treasure

from the banks that held the loot

monies destined for the better

this meant new roads

could not be built

no water for to drink

or spark to light the dark night

candles would have to do it

seemed the ones

who grabbed the power

from those who had abused

the position they had gotten

when the army helped them to

take charge from those who had

shot the ones in government

and murdered all of those who could

their supremacy challenge a bit

if this tale of regret

confuses you between the ears

and causes you to scratch your head

buddy, I'm with you through the years

I have no recommendation

as to what is next to make

in the order of this battle

which is a complex case

no simple salutation

can right now be made

the salutes go at different angles

to those who this game played

I hear we're sending troops

to straighten this mess out

and give support to the good guys

if they ever can be found

200 mph by Bob Atkinson

2011-10-17T12:58:00.002-07:00

200MPH

two hundred miles per hour

we ain't seen top speed yet

flying through the ess curves

track dry, or wet

feeling tires spinning

hearing motors' high pitched whine

pushing faster, always

to the front of the line

we're just a small band of heroes

our fame is forever known

how we'll hit the wall at 180

and still be ready to go

we see in speed a challenge

we hear our egos roar

as loudly as the motors

produced in mass by Ford

it's not such a little thing

to see the poles go by

as streaks instead of fingers

reaching high for the sky

it's not to win that keeps our fear

from crushing us like broken gear

we see ourselves breaking bonds

of Newton's Laws and Einstein's thoughts

no longer in a world set still

where quiet pauses cannot thrill

we need the feel of acceleration

to feed our desire and expectations

Two Twenty Five

2011-10-17T11:53:00.002-07:00

Two Twenty Five

Thirty four were in the field

scattering the wind

around the oval circuit

twelve laps after it began

up front there was a tussle

tires had argued much

over their place in this universe

which had more power to push

many had been there sitting

with their faces toward the sun

living an exciting day

settled in for a long run

but over there a problem came

shooting flames like large rockets

twisting, turning pieces of

what became man made coffins

the driver was from Canada

saw the smoke alright

and tried to slow not to become

one of those in flight

there behind another ran

his foot upon the pedal

that kept the powerful machine

in the race for medals

tire mounted tire

just like bull elephants

they squealed as if it was a fight

a contest for supreme dominance

up he flew, the champion

into the air he rose

at two hundred mph

into the fence he dove

parts scattered over many yards

flames shooting in the air

and the life of one brave person

simply ended there

the Dark Poet by Bob Atkinson

2011-10-16T11:43:00.004-07:00

The Dark Poet

sliding through the end game

over and above

all seasons of the good times

into the club she'd come

gliding softly always

alcohol on her breath

not so much she couldn't see

or go out to meet with friends

was to be a night of poetry

performance by her peers

throwing emotions at the crowd

doing their best to bring cheers

her turn would come

in time they'd hear

what she'd written today

about those little children

and their miserable wicked ways

she brought to them her best stuff

to wow all in their minds

and tear at their emotional ties

by her psycho-semantic chimes

she wore much lace

there flowed a cape

away from her soft back

boots of black laced to the top

nearly to her sweet kneecaps

then came her turn to perform
in her own defining way
the poetry of emotion
always best of the day

the speaker called her up to
the podium with starlight shining down
as if she were suspended
way far above the ground

she begins her set from a trance
nobody of her likeness
the way she moved as if she were
motivated by thunder and lightning

“the lady of the darkness”

to the rolling of the drums
began the thunder of her delivery
as she had always done

she gave her dissertation

on the subject called “Love”

as drums chanted a melodic beat

to swell and shrink the heart

on she went until the eyes

of all were fixed on her

then she ended it with a slam

which brought the room to tears

Those Who by Bob Atkinson

2011-10-16T11:02:00.001-07:00

Those Who

those who prayed were secure

in where their meals came from

and tasted wine when they wished

and savored warm bread buns

seemed a good endeavor

a roof over one's head

a place to pray and ponder

and give all of mind and heart

those who fought were not sure

their lives would continue on

but knew their place in a battle

and gave all, 'cause was their job

those that toiled did so always

for they had no other choice

but starve even more than now

or be struck with whip or posted

choice ran simple as the wind

always out of mind

was not something to be pondered

in their savaged lives

no way to change their lot in life

at night they could relax

and rest as best they could

until daylight brought them back

to the efforts sincerely made

to the hard part of strife

while thinking nothing of the cost

it took from their shackled lives

by the fire when wood was gathered

and burned for some warmth

and cooking meals of meager value

scant meat and vegetables in broth

little had they now to eat

not important to the ones

who held title to the land

and controlled the acts of armies

was a mean and wicked life

no softness around their lot

just worked until their bodies

gave out and sunk in plots

sometimes, a holiday was declared

good for a moment's rest

of parade, pomp and ceremony

giving reason for body to bathe

because they didn't know

a different way of life

gave little thought to their lot

just thanked god for what they'd got

so there in a situation

we could have been born into

others knew hard ways of life

difficult for us to view

would they have traded with us

their position or their status

would they have said our souls lack meaning

and felt really bad for us

Technology by Bob Atkinson

2011-10-16T09:20:00.000-07:00

Technology

the inventor had perfected

a machine of many uses

easily able to out produce

what the hands of men

had done

so simple a situation

seems no more thoughts in order

about this latest happening

of progress causing disorder

but tradition had been broken

change had come to those

who looked upon the old ways

for meaning in their hearts

their years of hard work doing

a quick and proper job

giving all they could to it

were ended and forgotten

pride it gave to their lives

disappeared in a flash

of binding gears and stamping sounds

as more product was amassed

more people could buy the lots

and use the newer things

while unappreciative of their nature

because they weren't expensive

and those who had toiled

for years at the bench

while making things with their hands

knew their lives had ended

no longer were they paid

for that which could be made

by machines so fast the gears did spin

endless products newly made

Fire and Blood by Bob Atkinson

2011-10-14T14:27:00.002-07:00

Fire and Blood

so many things had changed

here in the land of sun

so many of the old ways

had been silenced and were gone

so many of the wise stories

old men told at the fire

became a distant echo

not alive, yet sill admired

from beyond the mountains

came a band of the wildest men

who knew not compassion

for those not of their breeding

so many things had been taken

from within their hearts

that they chose not to allow themselves

concern for others' suffering

they took, which was the natural way

they hurt those that they could

they burned what they didn't take

or need for their own food

it was an act of desperation

it was justice in their minds

it was revenge, from a time

before civilization arrived

a primal act which justified

all the bad things they did

and kept their minds clear

of any shame or guilt

who is to judge what others do

who is to say what's right?

who is to give voice of sorrow to
what others feel inside?

I only know it isn't far
the buffer that divides
my being a good and kindly person
from my barbaric side

the Ship on a Rock by Bob Atkinson

2011-10-12T00:32:00.003-07:00

The Ship on a Rock

she lay there in the ocean

bow firmly on the rocks

leaking oil from her tanks

dropping overboard packaged cargos

so sad a well used hull of beauty

would be so under stress

that her master couldn't help

her float with pride again

pristine sand of beaches

and life attached to them

were fouled by the discharge

of the oils used by man

to extend his power over life

to give him more strength than the form

of a small, weak and spindly body

would normally command

surely in many years

the damage that had been done

would mitigate itself through time

perhaps after man has gone

after changes to the land

to the sea and air

to the heavens with shooting stars

made of plastic and titanium

after the radiation

would thoroughly dissipate

and leave behind new DNA

some good, some bad, some strange

so is it such a sad story

of the crashing on the rocks

of steel plate welded

to sides and horizontal bottom?

will the beauty of this ship

sink beneath the waves

and become a monument

to that which we tried and failed?

to fail to try would be the shame

to have given in to hardship

of circumstances stacking decks

against the pride of men's accomplishments

without a struggle of any kind

without the good fight we give

no trace of us would ever stay

upon land, sea or far off space

here in these circumstances

into which we were thrown

to progress beyond our little lives

and leave proof we were strong

requires risk to our small planet

seems like suicide

to kill that which gives us life

but is it that unwise?

death of our greatness

would be the sadder tale

not taking that which we were given

and pushing it toward hell

success and failure always leaves

some trail that we have gone

beyond the biological

to a new great world beyond

the Large Dinosaur by Bob Atkinson

2011-10-11T23:28:00.001-07:00

The Large Dinosaur

the beast lay on the ground

as if it were dead

but wasn't death that had it down

but a soft and cuddly nap

the grass of swampland then

wasn't like today's soft blades

but in the time of thunder beasts

was where they had to play

you think of beasts as large as

a yellow and black bus

and wonder how they could handle

all that massive bulk

when you ache from sitting on

your over sized rear end

you wonder how these multi-ton

animals prevailed on theirs

well friend it isn't that

I want to spoil your vision

but we see only bones that have

been dead for 65 million

years have zipped by

before we arrived on scene

and looked to the past

with vision not all too keen

if you think of the universe

as if it were a balloon

you'd see expansion taking place

it would soon fill the room

so two hundred fifty million years

before the present time

the world was a smaller place

compared to yours and mine

so anything left of those

ancient far past times

would have grown immensely

from then to now

back then they would have

been a bit denser than now

but to them it would be normal

not something real profound

the largest beasts would have been

like overgrown large elephants

or rhinos with their skin so thick

that we couldn't prick it with a stick

but nothing large as in musems

the bones have been expanded

through the years of our universe

puffing itself into oblivion

the Far Side of the Moon by Bob Atkinson

2011-10-11T23:01:00.003-07:00

The Far Side of the Moon

I don't think I want to go

to the far side of the moon

although the thought is tempting

it's not what I will do

no it isn't in my plans

there's no time for it

no time to explore the other side
which we can't see from here

we know our moon to look as if

it never ever changes

no difference from one night

to the next full moon gyration

no, I don't remember

seeing the other side

it isn't in my plans this week

to view its wilder end

it doesn't hurt my pride

that I won't be visiting it

and walk around its mountains

and kick its dirty grit

wouldn't have the greenest trees

or the clearest blue lakes

or be warm in the summer

or cold when snow flakes

wouldn't be a place where I

could be with friends of mine

or family if that is what I choose

to be right by my side

so I will stay right here on Earth

where I have chosen to live

is where my life began

and where it will eventually end

the Learning by Bob Atkinson

2011-10-07T07:45:00.000-07:00

The Learning

They stood upon the grassy hill

quiet as they tried to feel

the wind, the sky the green of growth

not saying much, if anything at all

the father's eyes held much sadness

the daughter looked to him for love

their eyes swept over land below

was broken where the river flowed

hoofs of large beasts hit the ground

as wild bulls played their running games

and butted heads and ran before

the older animals of their kind

the sky was blue beyond the clouds

no rain now as had been found

when they emerged from sleep sound

breath taken again on hunting grounds

of her father the girl was proud

he held respect of those around him

wise were his words though few spoken

he always knew best ways of action

for finding game that could be eaten

and leather hides for useful things

meant survival in this land

and protected them from roaming bands

now on the hill overlooking all this

stood a man with his young child small

though he said not a word to her

was a lesson for her young life to learn

to see the world as he had shown her

to look upon the living things

and gaze upon the flow of life

that fights and dies upon the land

brings meaning to the breath we take

our eyes were made to see the light

our hearts were made to feel the love

our feet were made to feel the soil

our strength in battle is multiplied

by our closeness to the land

by our love for those we can name

and our avoidance of any shame

Desert Nomads by Bob Atkinson

2011-10-05T07:19:00.005-07:00

Desert Nomads

years, they flew by so fast

through generations of

those who lived in the lands

not loved by nature's hand

upon the mountains way above

there stood the trees that grew

so green a color also seen

down where the rivers drew

scars upon the sandy soil

long depressions in the gravel

flat bottom plains below the level

of jagged lands above them

moving softly with the wind

taking what was needed

from the land or other men

no real bond between them

some say they were wild men

some say they knew the story

years of hardship fleeing those

with a different outlook's caution

who can say what is right

when different ways conflict

who can say now in these times

what the others experienced

I only know my life has been

without this mortal conflict

that hardens those who live upon

those rocks and salty outcrops

Fukushima Lament by Bob Atkinson

2011-10-05T06:56:00.000-07:00

Fukushima Lament

stepping into the street

my footstep bounced a lot

like stepping into jello

both feet began to rock

I stood there not knowing

what the problem was

could I begin to wiggle

or did the earth evolve

into some magic giant

that gave us a big groan

and heaved as if in agony

in spite of being stone

when you'd think it was over

it got so much stronger

giving me the feeling

which I didn't have time to ponder

rocking here and there

it tossed me off my feet

giving to me a big pain

in the middle of my seat

then after many minutes

of an absurd vibration

the grinding stopped at last

I started a meditation

wow

that wasn't any little thing

was the largest one could imagine

a rocking earthquake in my time

no way to explain what happened

then out in the bay

where water came to shore

no water stood where it had been

before the shaking groaned

wow

mmmmmmmm

sirens blazed

an alert for folks

to begin heading

to higher ground

sunami warning was clearly what

the sirens tried to tell

get to higher ground now

or prepare to go to hell

then the wall of water

a hundred feet or more

poured on to the land

beyond what had been shore

it swept away all those things

that had been in its path

buildings tall made of wood

with walls of sparkling glass

cars and trucks and animals

people who had stood

when they should have run

to higher ground

were swept up in the flood

and now the cooling system

of the nuclear machine

couldn't work when generators

drank the muddy sea

down in the generators

cooling water boiled away

and fuel rods shattered

melting down into a pool

spewing contamination

the rods gave out what could be seen

as deadly radiation

out into the pristine land

and into sea with fish

and over into the stratosphere

flew radiation's kiss

a kiss of death for an old life

in northeastern Japan

the land which had been loved so much

became useless for any man

I Am Civilized by Bob Atkinson

2011-09-26T19:22:00.000-07:00

"I Am Civilized”

I am civilized

you are a barbarian

I find your attitude lacking

in style, grace or understanding

my way always strives

to complete, not idolize

taking always the softer side

of the little man in his struggle

time has often left results

which show my themes

have grown so accurate

with vision, not imagination

so you see, to me there stays

truth which never ever strays

beyond the gates of lies

which distort simple meaning

so which side, you ask, am I on

on current issues and beyond

never leaving any doubt

which side's best, most paramount

let me say clearly, here and now

no simple matter to evolve

from this struggle, left and right

to pick a corner for this fight

we can step back from

our hypnotic trances

from the bartered positions

of the masses

seeing clearly how those in power

have deceived us

with labels covered

by trite phrases ever uttered

giving us shorthand to reject

thoughts of others labeled

as opponents in this quest

no serious thinking to uncover

what we all know

and need to remember

in any mortal endeavor

of interest or direction

is that hypnosis of the masses

never stays, isn't everlasting

its power can dissipate

when the people know its game

a useful tool for our pockets

holster or salvo rocket

or decision to be made

of what becomes the best way

to gain the upper hand

that makes us better men or women

leading successful generations

to prosper and give hard groans

never leaving nature to toil alone

pushing hard for better days

while keeping what our parents gave

we must remember to see the light

not stepping back into the mud

with slogans so deceiving

they become only cloudy lies

yes, better ways do exist

always staying close within our midst

that which lays in plain sight

says either hand is useful in a fight

Many Times by Bob Atkinson

2011-08-23T19:09:00.003-07:00

"Many Times”

many times along the way

some were fooled and made to pay

with their blood and family's lives

for some silly, arcane reason

urgent needs to impart collusion

to those opposed to their own solution

seeing others as irrational beasts

not human in their visionary feats

manifesting distortion of real situations

easily becomes the chosen reality

never seeing through greyed milked glass

their own views as less than absolute

enough so to forget that struggle

requires effort, not anarchy's bundle

wrapped with lies, distorted truths

meant to pamper one side's use

here we only see the picture

of what to us resembles freedom

but misfortune comes to us who use

this path to wander into harm's way

those who move in this direction

pushing peace away with abandon

offer a high price that must

be paid with blood, from within one's guts

always has this world of ours

contained the bitter with the grand

the use of a dishonest tool

has always proven its user a fool

Old Warrior Eyes by Bob Atkinson

2011-08-19T09:31:00.004-07:00

"Old Warrior Eyes”

he had seen the end of days

of strength and much older ways

now was a time so different

his heart begged him to return

return to shouts of glory

to those old camp fires, telling stories

of strength and honor dissipated

and a culture given up for lost

the dance, the song the banging drums

the nights of being such wild men

upon the land of living things

where only the strong survived

but, now his bones ached

from injury and old age

his power no longer at its peak

sadness his only song

steam power drew them east

a wild, fire snorting beast

clanking of metal against itself

held together with steel rails

the woman who had saved

him from death for his old age

sat behind him in her stoic pose

still protecting his life as always

she knew not where they went

for her brother she did lament

her heart was saddened now

yet, she still had all her powers

the scout who signed up for duty

giving loyalty to the new ones

sat hard upon his bench

was also toward the prison headed

Florida had been the call

all knew nothing of how they'd fallen

into the trap of vicious men

with strength but not grand intelligence

fate had bit them hard

on them and all their charges

women with their frowns of doubt

the men saddened without their guns

at least the killing stopped for now

food was given at even, not odd hours

seemed so strange a life to live

not to struggle and to fight well

fight for ways that had been given

by Ussen, the one who looked upon

the people of the dry parched lands

where hardship laid its bitter hand

while ending all those warriors' lives

the women and children too had died

as they tried to continue life

as it had always been

remembering stories that had been told

by men very wise but extremely old

who were born in glory days

and had been lucky not to die

a death as was here so common

by the hand of men with guns

the normal way to leave the land

always violent, always sudden

those who struggled so very hard

to continue the old ways of life

carried with them the burden

of being the last warriors to fight

or were they the last?

I don't think so

was years before

the stillness took hold

others fought, killed and died

to continue with their native pride

and move in the mountains as did the winds

while giving to it their last good breath

Contact Bob Atkinson

Hoop and Pole by Bob Atkinson

2011-08-15T08:14:00.002-07:00

"Hoop and Pole"

the woman knew her man could win

she knew his plight alright

she knew his skills were of the best

and told the others he'd pass the test

she cackled on and on so much

it left the others guessing

why much of her wisdom had left her

flying with the birds above them

the noise she made was a gamble

to let the others know

her man wasn't easily beaten

in a fight or in a show

he thrust the pole along its path

it should have been a win

but his opponent's luck was there again

good or bad, it sort of depends

depends on how you see it

the warrior that had won

drew luck to win the game that day

but the other had a gun

the loser, upset he had lost

so mad that he had drawn

his gun from its holster fast

aiming at the winner's grin

it smoked as lead flew out

and pushed hard against the hand

that had pulled the trigger

firing fatal shot at the other man

no protection from the force

not quick enough to dodge

the bullet coming from the pipe

ending the winner's good cause

with smash of lead making good

the loser's pride again

the man smiled broadly

before understanding what he'd done

when the thought came to him

that he'd ended a good warrior's life

and killed a good companion

at the urging of his wife

the loser looked around

his wife at last was quiet

then as she opened her mouth

he proceeded to put her on a diet

more smoke ,more fire, more zipping lead

more said than ever with words

how he wanted her to remain quiet

as she fell into the dirt

so let this be a lesson

don't let a woman sit and yell

whenever hoop and pole is played

keep her and your gun way away,

or else

else the game can end badly

for the winner and the other

as it did in this instance

when three became sad losers

one lost his life because

his luck was so very good
the woman also lost her life
as was her own doing

the loser lost something too
something hard to replace
something always needed in his camp

a woman pulling her weight

Contact Bob Atkinson

Poetry Critic Web Site

Mountain Over Valley by Bob Atkinson

2011-08-10T10:16:00.001-07:00

Mountain Over Valley

rising through the clouds

above what's green below

teeming with wild game

mountain's over soul

wonder in my heart

if that's where I might go

peace, harmony and thunder

lightning sparking into soil

flying into space

above, around with grace

mind needs no firm hold

on the ground below

love and all those things so dear

begin etching 'tween my ears

the songs of forests wet

with rain and melting snow

hills to define my soul as

winds carry their hold

on my meager life below

giving meanings to me unknown

valleys under mountains

rivers flowing without stop

feeding farms, flora, fauna

and people

thirsting from the heart

then up into the sky
beyond our small bubble
goes a part of our world
our savior and our trouble

that which sustains our life
what we breathe, eat and like
melds into the universe
offering our world to the stars

at such a moment we

are awestruck with what eyes see

no heart can hold for long

a world without Mountain Gods

The Second Moon by Bob Atkinson

2011-08-07T22:30:00.003-07:00

"The Second Moon”

swirling around the bigger ball

rocks that tumbled failed to fall

into the large and open world

upon which we would someday stand

those blobs of rock way up there

crashed into each other four billion years

before my mammy met my pappy

before the doctor slapped my fanny

up to the sky we see a round

white disc that smiles on our dry ground

brightly it shines upon those of us who see

the brilliance of a lone natural thing

now they tell us it was two

those globes of wonder we look to

seeing more than one
go around our world
would have been oh so profound

two orbs where there now are one

twice the stories to be told for fun

Jules Vern would have had to rewrite

the tale of a rocket in far out flight

romance of course would be quite different

one eye looking this way, then the other that way

how could one see both lights in the sky

and still look into a true lover's eyes?

Yes, no sensible romances would come

from such a situation as this in the sky above

thank goodness we were left with one moon

the brain hurts badly when pondering a twosome

one big disk is quite enough

one big smile from the old man above

one big wink from a cratered eye

no other lights need be seen arising