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Dawn's dainty dewdrops dance as daybreak dares,
While whistling winds whisper through woes unawares. A sinister susurration softly spreads, The viper’s voice veils 'neath the vale of dread. Children, cherubic, chant in joyous pairs, Yet, yonder, the hidden horror hums and hairs. In innocent ignorance, their hearts held high, Remembering the warmth, 'neath the October sky. But beneath the bliss, a sinister sound stirs-- A baffling, beguiling buzz that blurs. The hiss harrows, a haunting lullaby, Foreshadowing fear that flutters nearby. In shadows of vast numbers, one state, brave,
Four hundred million against a smaller enclave. Once seventeen million, now reduced by hate, Memories of Holocaust echo a fearful fate. Nine million dwell in Israel, a complex brew, Two million Arabs, and the Jewish crew. Surrounded by nations, twenty-two to one, In the Great Assembly, Arab voices spun. Six times war danced, since forty-eight unfurled, Acquiring buffer zones in a hostile world. Land returned for peace, Gaza’s gate set free, Yet in twenty-three, terror proclaimed its decree. Bold in vision, strength of old, reborn,
Rejecting norms that modern times have worn. Over mountains, seas, where primal men tread, Nature's laws above all, by them led. Zeal for power, the dominance of might, Embracing hierarchies, the ancient rite. In a small town not far, lived Conor so grand,
A curious boy with a question in hand. "Why does the sun set? Why does the moon glow?" He'd ask all day long because he wanted to know. His house was a hub of marvelous sound, A cacophony where knowledge was found. With books scattered here and jokes told out there, His laughter and wonder filled up the air. "Did you know that an octopus has three hearts?" He'd share with his friends, as they made crafts and art. Or "A group of crows is a murder, you see!" Conor was as curious as curious could be. He loved all the animals, from big to quite small, From the giants of the ocean to insects that crawl. He'd tell you cool facts, like how bats use their ears, And how chameleons change color, oh the things you'd hear! In Michigan's early fall, the air's a different tune,
Red leaves like embers glow beneath the harvest moon. The green gives way to brown and yellow takes the stage, A crispness whispers softly, "Behold the changing age." From the womb of a nation imperfect, arose a star,
Born in old Massachusetts, Susan B. Anthony afar. Born in a time where her voice was but a whisper, Against the roaring tide, she became our sister. A tireless advocate of rights both large and small, An echo of justice, she answered its call. Through the temperance movement, she sought to convey, The power of women, to have their rightful say. In the year of ’63, under the war-torn sky, She built the League of Loyalty, her resolve ever high. With slavery anathema and freedom her aim, Her efforts were instrumental in abolishing the same. Through relentless commitment to the cause she held dear, She held up the torch of equality clear. With Elizabeth Cady Stanton by her side in the fray, She founded the Suffrage Association to lead the way. Unfurl the flags, O Michigan! First of all states to remember,
To mark the day of those who’ve gone, in the glow of late May’s ember. From Decoration to Memorial, the name, it has evolved, Yet the essence of its purpose, in our hearts remains resolved. Once upon the thirtieth day, now the last Monday we find, The calendar bows to the rhythm of the nation, the rhythm of mankind. In the pleasant early summer, when the air is warm and light, We pause to remember those who gave their all in the fight. O Captain! my Captain! their fearless spirits call, Through the graveyards, through the parades, through the silence that befalls. We honor them, the brave and true, who served the Stars and Stripes, From every corner of this land, from every tribe and type. Under the wide and starry sky, they sleep the eternal sleep, The crimson poppies, the wreaths we lay, the promises we keep. To the soldiers, the sailors, the airmen, the marines, To every soul lost in service, to what freedom truly means. The Holidays again, are here
Some celebrate with wine, some with beer, Others with concubines, but all with great cheer. To some a Pagan rite, to others a holy birth, The December moon arrives with a differing worth, Standing astride the night, it is met with merriment and much mirth. Upon a calendar they mark belief, Enjoying bourbon and gin they find relief, With the season’s close, plans are made for a new leaf. I awoke in sunlight's luminosity,
Harsh, without remorse, erasing shadows, Amidst the expanse of my meadow, Life's enlightened field of acuity. Arising to engage, construct and build, A days chores, tasks and labors form function, Applying the known creates production, This done in rout as my natural wergild. O Muse, grant me the power divine, of heaven’s soul to speak.
To convey in words what makes the oceans stir, mountains move and spheres collide. No mere task for mortals to accomplice, with earthly fragility, Again, shape O Muse the flesh of this tongue, be now still to wag with divinity. From an ancient time and a distant land, yet in our common repose. The face of beauty was beheld by one, she who entangled cities and launched ships. Anno Domini 1997, witness the dethronement of this potentate prescribed eternal. |
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