Tag: Poetry

Monuments

Hail to the downfall of the tyranny
That comes with the passing of the scepter.
Power held in the name of finery
Allow the surface to be the deeper,
And we spend our time praising aesthetics,
Thinking the view will make us important,
But now we can uncover the ethics
That was left to die under the pavement
Of the monument of men gone away.
They still hope that they will honor their name
Though what they left us, we can’t really say
Except for remembrance of their fame.
Their passing makes the legacy sour,
For they did not know how to wield power.

Commandaria

Fighting against the sun to work the field
Is how I spent each of my summer days,
To be rewarded with a harvest yield,
Filled with the nectar the gods use to pay.
I will collect the fruit off of the vine
To have them bake under the autumn heat.
In a fortnight, we can squeeze out the rind
By stomping them with the soles of our feet.
We’ll put the juice into an oak barrel
Which will be hidden in a cool, dry place
For four years. We will protect it from peril,
So we can ensure its elegant grace.
Do not seek out another finer wine
Than the one with Commandaria shine.

The Life We Want

We always fight for the life that we want,
Pretending that it is within our reach,
A life where we no longer have to grunt;
Instead, flopping on a chair on a beach,
Soaking the rays of the sum while they last.
Instead, I find myself strapped to a seat,
Hoping my clock could start to go fast,
So work to be done would be complete.
Playing repeat, I go through the same grind,
Fighting to obtain another dollar
Because my current debt has got me primed
To continue my life in this collar.
It’s possible to be victorious
Thought they claim that the plan is not for us.

The Snapshot

Can the world be held within a snapshot
From that small moment when the shutter clicked
To capture a time that we never sought
Held in an album where pages are flicked?
What makes this picture different than the rest,
Glued in place by the four little brown tabs
Where our vision is treated as a guest,
Given glimpses of the past we can grab?
Where have all of those smiling faces gone,
Who once graced us by visiting our doors,
But ever since the passing of the dawn,
Can now be found on pieces of cardboard?
Your smile is the one I miss the most,
Though the album has been a gracious host.

The Family Recipe

This recipe is a long tradition
That has been passed down to me by my mother.
As I pass it to your generation,
I hope you’ll pass it on to another.
We will use the freshest ingredients
As you blend them together in the pot.
We adjust the taste by using the scents
Whose unique detection my mother taught.
It’s best brewed during a warm afternoon
Where we enjoy each other’s company;
We’ll wrap ourselves in the kitchen’s cocoon,
Waiting to partake in the labor’s honey.
We have to protect what could be a loss,
So I will teach you how to make our sauce.

The Wake

Open up another bottle of wine
Because we have defeated this soldier.
Fill up your glass first before you fill mine;
We don’t need to see if this one’s bolder.
It helps to fill the room up with laughter
When we let this sweet nectar grease our brain.
We’ll think about consequences after
We have enjoyed our sleepy refrain.
In the morning, we can see what we’ve done,
Though our head will give us a reminder.
The night before we had a lot of fun,
Though we had no idea what we’d find there.
It is the biggest drawback of the drink,
Trying to ignore what we have to think.

The Way They Lived

Do not tell me of how someone has died;
Instead, tell me of the way that they lived.
I don’t want to know why the people cried,
But what made memories of them vivid.
They must have touched the lives of many folks
As they made memories filled with laughter.
Their friendships included ladies and blokes
Pursuing a life worth going after.
Let’s not remember the pain, but kindness
That was spread around due to their presence.
We have gathered, so we may bear witness
Of how a life spent deserves reverence.
Why would we focus on the suffering
When talk of living is more enduring?

Things I Do Not Want to Do Today

These things I do not want to do today:
Carry a stuffed backpack upon my back
In foreign airports as I make my way
To a tiny upright seat where I lack
The space needed to stretch out my long legs
Next to another giant of a man
Where we are in position to beg
For a little real estate where we can
Devour a barely edible meal
That was heated up an hour before
Or catch a smidge of sleep so we can feel
Capable of flight through the storms in store.

Or to leave your home, so I can go fly,
Having to hug out my final goodbye.

Batteries

Batteries only hold so much power
To keep individual clocks ticking.
Eventually, there comes an hour
When the hands on the face will stop kicking.
How will a clock react when this day comes?
Does it continue to live by design,
Making sure the mechanism still hums,
Ignoring inevitable decline?
Or will it fight against the coming end?
Will it play around with the way time moves,
Speeding up or slowing down, which depends
On the feel how the situation grooves.
Can you tell me which behavior is right
When a time piece puts up its final fight?

The Night the Lights Went Out

The lights went out on our side of the road;
We had to pack our devices away
And live according to an older code
About how we come together to play.
We converge around a different glow
That flickers from a central candle’s wick;
Neighbors become our television show
Which we will find to be the better pick.
Laughter will be heard around the table
As we gather around a deck of cards,
A more traditional kind of cable
That has more channels than the sky has stars.
You will realize that it’s a pity
When we live through our electricity.