Poetry

Morning’s Still Broken

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Why U.S. authorities must dog the likes of Cat Stevens

Boomers remember
Cat Stevens’ records
back when our world was crazy yet sane.
Vietnam soldiers
recall cold shoulders
when they returned home bloodied and maimed.

Morning’s still broken,
moon shadows faded.
Oh, very young, our world’s still at war.
There is no peace train.
Terror on airplanes
means Yusuf Islam is welcomed no more.

Crescent moon shadows
all Muslim converts,
still not all converts play terror’s game.
But those on watch lists
really are high risks
and must be de-clawed if not deplaned.

Old Carl Sandburg
pictured the night fog
like cat feet stalking those it deems prey.
So without warning
terror comes storming
quietly cloaking those in its way.

We must be leery
of those who follow
extremist leaders bent on our doom.
Sometimes we error
battling terror
but that’s the cost of forestalling gloom.

* the above lyrics can be sung to the tune for “Morning Has Broken”

God Remains our Source of Courage

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

A hymn of hope for days of despair

God remains our source of courage
when we’re traumatized by terror.
When we’re haunted by the headlines
and the violence everywhere.
Hear God whisper in the silence
“Don’t despair, I’m in control.
Hurting hearts and broken cities
will at last one day be whole.”

God can feel the pain of suffering
when grenades and bombs explode.
When a dad is taken hostage
at a checkpoint on a road.
Then God whispers in the silence
“Justice will in time be done.
I will stand with those who need me
‘til my Kingdom fully comes.”

God invites us to be trusting
when we find that faith is hard.
When we’re fearful for our safety
and our nerves are frayed or jarred.
Still God whispers in the silence
“Even when your faith is weak,
I will keep your feet from stumbling
when your way is dark and bleak.”

Liberty Never Blinks

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Reflections on the third anniversary of 9/11

With big sad eyes that never close
she watched those black clouds as they rose
eclipsing New York’s brilliant sun
as shadows signaled doom.

Unflinchingly she stared and wept
as towers fell and terror swept
across a city unaware
that held its breath and prayed.

With torch in hand she offered light
to those who searched both day and night
for missing loved ones lost beneath
a mountain of debris.

She stood for hope when hope seemed lost
as rescue workers paid the cost
of burying our broken dreams
that died that dreadful day.

She stood by guarding while we grieved
and heard us say why we believed
that we must seek out terrorists
before they strike again.

And still she stands defiant, strong
unfazed by those who’ve done us wrong.
And those who try to stare her down
will find she never blinks.

A Sure Cure for Stress

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Post-op advice for Bill Clinton

When you’re pooped, uptight and frazzled
and your plagued by anxiousness,
there’s a simple diagnosis.
You are suffering from stress.

You are taxed by unmet deadlines.
You are driven by demands.
You’re a mess of frayed emotions
like some stretch-out rubber bands.

It’s a low-grade chronic sickness
that will leave you nearly dead,
if you don’t address the symptoms.
First of all, go straight to bed.

When you wake up, eat your breakfast.
Spend some time with God in prayer.
Let the Lord review your date book.
Offer up your angst and cares.

Take a walk or jog three miles.
Don’t neglect your exercise.
Watch your diet. Drink much water.
Boycott burgers, Cokes and fries.

Make the most of meals with family.
Share your feelings. Make amends.
View each day as priceless treasure.
Count your blessings. Laugh with friends.

Learn the art of saying “Sorry!
While I’d love to I just can’t.”
Try to just say no more often.
Let it be your freedom chant.

Guard your day-off like a soldier
wearing sneakers, jeans and cap.
Let yourself enjoy a hobby.
Every Sunday take a nap.

Even though it’s not a cancer,
stress can kill you just the same.
So determine you will fight it.
Make a stress-free life your aim.

Leaving Home

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

The hidden costs of college have little to do with tuition

When your kid leaves home for college,
your emotions fall apart.
You can picture him in diapers.
You can see her tracing hearts.
You remember when he started
kindergarten, then first grade.
You could swear it was a week ago
she sold you lemonade.
There were Cub Scouts, ballet lessons,
Little League and soccer games.
There were sleepovers and campouts
roasting hot dogs on the flames.
There were Barbies, trucks and braces,
family trips to Disneyland.
It seems like only yesterday
you held that little hand.
Now that hand grasps a diploma
as that grown-up voice says “Bye…
I’ll be home for sure Thanksgiving.
What’s that leaking from your eye?”
It’s a bittersweet occasion.
You’re so proud this day has come.
But to see that empty bedroom
leaves you nauseous and half-numb.
It’s a heartache felt by millions
who have watched their children leave.
When you let go of the ones you love
you cannot help but grieve.