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What is this ancient impulse gifts impart,
To crowds, currying favor, hearts to sway? Did not the Gracchi brother’s wealth depart, Spreading it wide to gain power’s bright array? Did Cleopatra not her rivals thwart, Robbing the few, the many’s needs to lay? Such deeds of old, how echoes still remain, In time’s vast stretch, this urge we can’t restrain. What is this timeless urge, these rallying cries, Against the elites, the masses to incite? Did Cleisthenes not from high ranks arise, Bringing down nobles, wielding his own might? Did Jan Žižka, with peasant voices wise, Challenge the enterprising, stir the fight? So Socrates might ask, with wisdom keen, Are these not truths we’ve ever plainly seen? In times of old and through the years so vast,
Fathers have stood, a plinth that’s built to last. With wisdom deep and courage ever true, They shape the world and guide their children’s view. With justice fair and hands both strong and kind, They guard the home, with every heart aligned. In virtues high, their legacy they weave, A tapestry of life that we believe. They teach us strength, resilience through the strife, With grit and grace, they navigate this life. In every struggle, fathers lead the way, Instilling hope and courage day by day. In the gaze of a child, the world anew,
Every little thing a mystery to pursue. With eyes wide in wonder, and heart so pure, Each day a canvas, each moment an allure. Through their laughter, the mundane turns profound, In their questions, life’s complexities unwound. With each step, a journey through fascination, Every discovery, a joyful celebration. Beneath the wide and watchful sky, they stand,
A plinth upon which we fed, Rooted deep in fertile land, More than a manager, a thread. With boards that have borne the brunt of time's slow churn, Their facades a tapestry, weathered, worn, and wise, They stand, not just as structures, but as marks of time's return, Their silence speaking volumes 'neath the expansive skies. In their embrace, stories intertwine, Of lively dances, joyous weddings held within, Where community and tradition combine, A testament to unity, a kinship spun so thin. AntinomyIn shadowed streets where darkness reigns,
There walked a figure, void of stains, A man of honor, stern and true, With eyes that pierce the murky hue. Elliot Ness, his name resounds, Among the untouchables, he's found, A lawman fierce, devoid of fear, In the Prohibition's gloomy sphere. With Al Capone, a foe renowned, He clashed in streets where silence drowned, The Outfit's grip, a vice so tight, But Ness, unbowed, stood up to fight. Aphophis' FallDawn'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. Against terror & fearIn 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. dianoiaBold 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. Conor's CacophonyIn 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! Between Green & WhiteIn 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." Against a Roaring TideFrom 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. Remember the BraveUnfurl 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 Ballard of Cato the YoungerIn Rome's fair city, long ago,
A steadfast man of virtue rose, Defender of the Republic's throes, His name was Cato. Of ancient lineage, proud and true, He held the values all men knew, A bulwark 'gainst the storm that blew, Steadfast Cato. Oh, Cato, Cato the Younger, Defender of the Republic's thunder, For freedom's cause, you'd never blunder, Valiant Cato. The FoundingUpon the banks of Tiber's stream,
A tale of yore doth brightly gleam, Of she-wolf fierce and infant's cry, And Rome's bold birth beneath the sky. In days of Alba Longa's reign, A king, Numitor, held the chain, Yet brother Amulius, wreathed in woe, Dethroned the king with treacherous blow. Numitor's daughter, Rhea fair, Was forced into the traitor's lair, A Vestal Virgin she became, To quench the fires of his shame. But Mars, the god of war and might, Saw Rhea's beauty shining bright, Their union blessed by love's embrace, Gave birth to twins in secret place. In ancient Rome, where the Tiber flowed,
A man of eloquence arose, With wisdom, wit, and words bestowed, His name was Cicero. A pleader, politician, sage, In Rome's Republic, he took the stage, His voice resounded through the age, The wise Cicero. Oh, Cicero, Cicero, In Senate halls your voice would flow, For freedom's cause, you struck the blow, Mighty Cicero. In Babylon's grand and ancient reign,
Stood Hammurabi, king with mind so keen, Whose wisdom, vast as Tigris' flow, Brought forth a code, the world to know. From Euphrates' banks to distant lands, His rule spread far, a just command, He sought to tame the chaos wild, And forge a realm, in order, mild. "Ye subjects, gather near and hear, The laws I bring to quell your fear, No more shall darkness rule the day, For light and justice find their way." When winter's chill was in the air,
And freedom's cause seemed lost and rare, George Washington, with iron will, Resolved to cross the Delaware. The river ran with icy flow, And snow lay deep upon the snow, But Washington and his brave band Would not be stopped nor be unmanned. With sword in hand and flag unfurled, They crossed the Delaware that world, And made their way to Trenton town, To bring the fight and strike them down. In the land of the mountain and pine,
Where the forests do whisper and wind, A legend was born, a tale to be told, Of the Green Mountain Boys and a leader so bold. Ethan Allen, he stood at the fore, A man of great might and much more, With his band of brothers, resolute, strong, For the cause of their freedom, they'd fight all day long. Oh, Green Mountain Boys, ye fearless and free, The wind in the pines sings the tale of thee, In the valleys and hills of Vermont you roam, In the hearts of your people, you've found a home. In skies of old where dreams took flight,
Otto Lilienthal, a beacon bright, Born in Prussian lands, under heavens vast, In Anklam's embrace, his roots held fast. A mechanical mind, a spirit free, From war's grim clasp to destiny, In his workshop's forge, dreams took shape, Wings that would the heavens drape. His tome, "Bird Flight," laid the trail, For those who'd follow, in his sail, Through air's embrace, he sought to glide, With wings that danced on the wind's tide. Two thousand flights, against the sky, On crafted wings, he dared to fly. From hill to hill, a fearless leap, In gliders' hold, his visions steep. In a time not so distant, in a neighborhood glance,
Lay a kingdom of cassettes in a whimsical dance. Blockbuster, the beacon, where dreams were on lease, With its blue and yellow sign, a visual peace. Rows upon rows of adventures untold, Genres and stories, bold and old. A haven for seekers, a treasure chest grand, "Be Kind, Rewind," the gentle command. In the heart of the city, where dreams walk tall,
Stand sentries of light, guardians over all. Silent they stand, through the ebb and flow, Witness to life's theater, its ceaseless show. Through winds that wail, through time's steady stride, They keep their vigil, with relentless pride. Under their gaze, children come to play, Beneath their glow, lovers lose their way. They've watched the horses trot, then fade away, Seen the birth of cars, and their noisy sway. Now, bikes whisper past, electric cars hum near, Yet, the street lights stand, year after year. In the whispering halls of time's vast library,
Echoes the art, the binder's secret alchemy. From papyrus scroll to parchment's fold, A tale of binding, quietly told. In the shadow of the scribe, the codex born, Stitching together pages, worn. Leather clasps and wooden spine, Held the words of a line divine. Through the middle ages, under candle's glow, Monks bent low, their movements slow. Gold leaf, and vellum pure, Crafted bindings, made to endure. In skies of endless blue and dawn's soft light,
Amelia soared, a spirit free and bright. With wings of courage, far beyond the sight, She danced upon the winds, a fearless flight. In leathered jacket, eyes alight with dreams, She challenged storms, unraveled starlit seams. A heart that beat with thunder's rhythmic hymns, In her, the fire of independence gleams. Through clouds of doubt, she rose with grace and might, Her compass set where day embraces night. In every heart, she lit a spark, a light, To chase the unknown, to reach new heights. 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. |
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