Resemblance

dandelion

(in response to Lord Byron’s “Remembrance“)

I, too, have felt devoid of hope
while trapped within the narrow scope
of vigilance between the dreams.
When pessimism runs amok,
it’s difficult to stop and pluck
a thread of reason through the seams
that bind the soul’s imaginings.

But past the point of “All is Lost”
exists a realm where Fear is crossed
with Love, and there resemblance ends.
Forgotten soon, life’s petty woes
reveal themselves as beggar’s clothes
unfit to touch the royal skins
of you and me and all our friends.

———

cc-by-nc-nd  Mary Boren, 2013

Public Domain Image

Find Something to Like

holding hands
I’m weary of the angry crowd
that shouts its do-not-likes out loud
because the message always seems
to be expressed in taunts and screams.

I’d much prefer to live in peace
as global citizens release
their hatred for the other side
and blazon blessings far and wide.

For whether we agree or not
in every case of what is what,
we surely know that fury’s sound
won’t lead us onto common ground.

An open mind and loving heart
encourages the waves to part.
We’re in the boat together here —
let’s grab an oar and lend an ear.

———

cc-by-nc-nd  Mary Boren, 2013

Change is Coming

chickens

A tally of predicaments could wrap around the block.
The kids need shoes; the bill collector’s calling.
Politisquabbles dominate the news at 6 o’clock.
Relax, the sky is probably not falling.

The pundits paint a bleak scenario. Predictions seem
convincing in their repetitious drumming,
but to the watchers waking from a bad collective dream,
one thing alone is certain: Change is coming.

More likely what we’re feeling is a planetary jerk
produced by waves of panic. But, believe it
or not, a proven principle is steadily at work:
The world’s as good or bad as you perceive it.

So when you’re pecking for a meal on ground that’s parched and hard,
and hear the sound of thunderclouds advancing,
take heart. Don’t blindly string along with chickens from the yard
to hunker in the coop. Look up! Start dancing!

Perhaps the slurpy spectacle as optimists cavort
in mud could set a brighter course. Thank heaven
our future’s not determined by the 6 o’clock report.
“America’s Got Talent” airs at seven.

———

cc-by-nc-nd  Mary Boren, 2008