Alphabet soup is simmering once again
O G O J
U R N hock
It’s E Z 2 C Y.
Just like B 4
U broke the law.
U R A guilty guy.
U can B sure
theres H to pay.
O J R 1 desire
is that U get
what U deserve
4 B N such a liar.
O J U R
N deep doo doo.
Can U C just how much?
U R N clined to beat the rap.
But now U R N dutch.
Grieving for our fallen soldiers
Your son waved goodbye
then left for Iraq.
You checked off the days
’til your boy would be back.
With pride in your heart
and fear in your face,
you spoke of your son
and a longed-for embrace.
And then…
He came back in a box
lifeless and still.
Home from a war
that wasn’t his will.
Home to a nation
weary and worn.
Tired of being
divided and torn.
Home to a country
jaded and numb
that numbers the reasons
why peace can’t be won.
Finally home on a
permanent leave.
His sacrifice questioned.
No wonder you grieve.
Seattle’s famed Pike Place Market turns 100 years old
Come meet the producers
fishmongers, florists,
farmers and winemakers.
Come hear their chorus.
Amid ferries belching
and gulls’ haunting scree,
I hear merchant voices.
They’re calling to me.
It’s where locals linger.
It’s where tourists throng.
Where fish are seen flying
to street singers songs.
Vendors and crafters
all welcome the morn
while sipping their coffee
where Starbucks was born.
Rachel the piggy bank
stands proud neath the clock
while guarding a place that
just goes on for blocks.
And though it’s one-hundred,
it’s vital and strong.
Though once given last rites,
that verdict was wrong.
Pike Place is quite special,
unequaled, unique.
So why not discover
the Market’s mystique?
poetic reflections on this week’s news
Try to remember
that day in September
when life was changed
for us forever.
Try to recover
a grief that’s been covered
by years now past
and prayers unanswered.
Try to replenish
what’s slowly diminished.
A faith in God
and love of country…
and honor.
Disgraced in the John
How a Minneapolis bathroom flushed a reputation
Larry Craig and John
What really did go on?
Who are those three?
Or is it one
whose DC time is gone?
His reputation’s flushed.
A secret he had hushed
has now come out.
There’s little doubt
his faithful wife is crushed.
While seated on the throne
his feet began to roam
and footsie with
a plainclothes cop
let Larry’s fetish known.
A poetic tribute to my childhood hero;
The Tenor of Our Grief
[Editor’s note: Paul Harvey celebrates his 89th birthday this week]
“Hello, Americans!” he’s wont to say.
I hear him say it everyday.
His lilting voice conveys the news
while finding ways to spin his views.
Just hearing him, makes me feel warm
when icy headlines make me mourn.
Since I was just a school age lad,
I’ve heard him take what’s really sad
and find a hook to help us cope
through God and country, dreams and hope.
His bumper snickers make me laugh.
His stories have a second half.
His sponsors are like family,
like Hillsdale, Bose, Hi-Health, page three.
My favorite newsman is unique
in what he says and how he speaks.
I think you’d call him my mainstay.
His name is Paul …Harvey… Good day!
*Recently, while on vacation in Phoenix, I unexpectedly encountered Mr. Harvey taking his daily afternoon walk near the Biltmore Hotel. I greeted with a hearty “Hello, American!” He smiled and invited me to join him on his 1 1/2 mile stroll. For thirty minutes I savored a dream come true. Making the most of the fleeting moments, I asked the 88 year old newsman questions about which I’ve wondered since I first heard him on the radio when I was a boy of twelve. It was the highlight of my vacation.
The Tenor of Our Grief
A Tribute to Luciano Pavarotti
The phantom of the opera
holds a mask that hides his tears
A trio has become a sad duet.
The big man with the giant voice
who taught the world to sing
is silent. Pavarotti now is dead.
Those lyrics few could stomach,
Luciano brought to life.
Like a circus clown,
his singing coaxed a smile.
Opera music gained a hearing.
Like a rock star he found fame
though his weight and marriage failures
proved a trial.
Luciano, how we loved you.
No one else can take your place.
May you find in death God’s mercy
on your soul.
With a voice that tempted angels,
you brought Heaven down to earth.
Now it’s time to sing God’s praises
loud and full.
My Rhymes and Reasons 