Tag: Poetry

Life on the Shoulder

I know the Winter winds still like to blow,
Keeping folks from walking the city streets,
Yet the time has arrived for it to go,
So we can emerge from our safe retreats.
I stand looking out the frosted window
At the empty chairs at the restaurants,
As the servers patiently wait below
For the locals to return to their haunts.
Only the icy chill goes to and fro,
Giving the advertisements their own dance.
Nobody’s there to watch their tempting show,
Giving the day’s market a fighting chance.
Tomorrow the sun will peak through the clouds
Building up the rise of summertime crowds.

Airport Checkpoint

I know that security can be tight,
And you are trying to protect the land.
Don’t fret about me putting up a fight,
But I think this is getting out of hand.
You may not know of this brand called SweeTarts,
But that does not mean they are illegal.
You can find similar kinds in these parts;
It is not something worthy to smuggle.
Maybe, I should not have opened the box,
For it makes it a little suspicious,
But should I look down the sight of your glocks
Because the pills mixed in are malicious.
I thought that the plan would be worth a shot,
And I never thought that I would get caught.

Quick Trip Home

It was only yesterday I touched down
To a room full of family and hugs.
I could discourage the traveling frown
By leaning into where my heartstring tugs.
But responsibility tells its tale,
Reminding me that this has to be brief.
I am given enough time to exhale
To enjoy this short moment of relief.
I have to go and get my bag repacked
Because there is a flight calling my name.
My job could threaten me by being sacked;
I’ll continue to play its silly game.
I hope you are happy that I have been,
But this trip has been there and back again.

Winter Wedding

Do not ask for why tears drip from the pines;
It is an icy expression of joy.
Between the broken storm clouds, the sun shines
An afternoon beam upon a girl and boy,
Melting the snow gathered upon the boughs.
A crowded street of umbrella applause,
From the winter, the sun did arouse,
Giving the crying tress their special cause.
We gathered together to bear witness
Of written whispered vows being exchanged.
The umbrellas and tree leaned in to bless
The monumental moment being staged.
Silence surveyed in anticipation
To hear, “I do” said in repetition.

A German owned Thai restaurant in Prague

I’ve worked my life for this opening day,
So I can show off my abilities
In cooking. Now I will ask if you may
Come and enjoy my Thai delicacies.
It’s not the typical fare you’d find here
Among the old brick buildings and beer halls.
It’s a departure from the normal cheer;
I’m glad you’ve heard its tantalizing calls.
I have added a little German flare
For that is the place that I call my home.
The combination is not all that rare;
Instead, it creates a comforting poem.
You will always be my first customer
Of this lifelong wish of an endeavor.

The Wheelchair Holiday

Though the road may be a little bumpy
And the wheels on the cart don’t have much give,
I’ll try to make the ride not so jumpy.
The turning is also not responsive,
So we’re going to have to take it slow,
Giving us enjoyment of scenery
That we usually ignore as we go
Because we believe trips should be busy.
Though we won’t be able to see as much,
What we will see we will really take in.
It gives vacation a different touch
When the small moments are what we’re makin’.
Don’t fret about the trip in a wheelchair
For we got to see what was really there.

The Velvet Revolution

Now that we have gotten the crowds gathered,
We can start the fires within our hearts
For a proud people that has been battered.
This is the way a revolution starts,
Not with terror, guns or an explosion,
But with a single match and a gesture
That demonstrates to them our frustration
Over our culture held in indenture.
I do not believe it to be too rash
That what I will leave as inspiration
Will be my bones and a pile of ash,
And the knowledge that I freed a nation.
You can bring your armies, and your big tanks,
We won’t ever be a part of your ranks.

The Winter Scene

The roadside has been covered in a white,
Hiding the remnants of autumn days.
The morning sun shines with a blinding light
When off of the snow shrouded hills it plays.
The deer paw through the crust of the night’s storm
Searching for hints of daily nourishment.
Only the barn owl will witness the form
As it heads to its nest with evening spent.
He’s followed by procrastinating geese
Who waited too long for their migration.
The snow muffled cacophony of peace
Whispers comments on the situation.
These risers experience the serene
Of the truth heard on morning’s winter scene.

COVID Hangover

I’m locked behind the security door
With easy access to my belongings.
I do not see people much anymore,
But at least, I am protecting my things.
There are my board games, which are fun to share,
But do not allow me to play solo.
I have a set of eight-person dinner ware
Whenever I want to put on a show.
As of right now, I only use one plate
For a meal that was kept in the freezer.
I don’t know if I’ll ever use its mate
For there is not a reason to please her.
I will live my life under this one light
To avoid an outside world full of fright.

Oppenheimer

I want to prove to you it can be done,
So I have dedicated a lifetime
To unlock the mysteries of the Kingdom
Of Heaven that’s hidden to humankind.
I have categorized it as science
With the help of the Maths can be explored.
Do not talk to me about the balance
Needed in order to walk through that door.
On me, this great nation is dependent
To marvel at my finest creation,
And with it a world peace is at hand
By giving it the threat of mass destruction.
My name will be written in history
As the man who gave chains to set us free.