Sentimental Sunday: Dad

My very first hero is lost to me
My protector, debater, and friend
My guide on how good music could be
With a vast choice of genres to blend

A professor of punctuality
That being on time showed you care
A pinnacle of functionality
When you wore uniforms and short hair

I’ll remember you so well respected
And loved but the many who knew you
So many good times we collected
I’m not ready for them to be through

Sentimental Sunday: Call and Response

The skin that’s been blighted
A hope unrequited
exposing the roots of the rage that’s incited

Well shown in the annals
Is the way things were channeled
to turn certain humans from people to mammals

A continuous tamping
Through misandric vamping
and the boxes created were brutal and cramping

Yet their voices still rise
In unending reprise
our response to their call shows of what we’re comprised

Sentimental Sunday: Figurehead

Clawless and clueless

he swipes at his prey

but somehow they feared him

and all shrank away


Giving their power

for it seemed of no use

they abided the roaring

and took the abuse


He wanted to lead them

they all fell in line

not seeing the danger

though they would in time


They blocked the cave mouth

please don’t go inside

but they were the victims

of their fears and their pride


So into the maw

they all seemed to vanish

and those who would help

were chastised and banished


In darkness they cowered

convinced by his roar

not realizing there was

no light anymore

Sentimental Sunday: Self

This is my neon sign,
my drama, My very public tantrum.
I am making noise, calling out to those who need an awakening or just want to witness another’s.
This is my banner, my t-shirt, my emblem.
This is what I stand for and support, this is my pride on the line,
my shield in the battle of existence.
This is my stage name, my costume, my mask.
This is how I have chosen to show you who I am,
this is what people will analyze after I am gone if they care to know more.
These are my volumes, my grimoire, my oral history.
It is made up of all of me, what I think, what I feel,
who I am, and how much that can change day to day.
This is my closet, my attic, my basement.
All the things I have collected throughout my life,
things I should have thrown out that I have kept and things I have lost that still pain me to remember.
This is my resume, my final, my thesis.
This is my offering to the world,
from my perspective shaped by many others and reinterpreted by me.
This is my brain, My heart, My gut.
Things that matter and things that don’t but they all make up a life that is still learning and growing.
One that cannot be easily defined or even put into words properly
not even by its author
but I will continue to try, not for you, but for me.

Sentimental Sunday: Follow Me

Follow me said the sun
as it spread out its rays
and bathed me in light
so warm in its way

Follow me said the wind
as it threw back my hair
and blew away cobwebs
I ne’er knew were there

Follow me said the stream
as it twisted along
and the bubbles it made
sang an unyielding song

Follow me said the stars
as they twinkled above
hearing all of the wishes
I had e’er spoken of

Follow me said the moon
casting shadow and shine
fearing no darkness
not even mine

Follow me said my heart
dreams can fade oh so fast
you have to live life
if you want it to last

Sentimental Sunday: The Prettiest of Ponds

The frightened pheasant flutters
Flying in a burst
Startled by the panting fox
Who came to quench her thirst

The female fox is furrowed
Shorter are her days
Lacking will and drive to hunt
On eggs and fruit she’ll graze

A fearful fish feels furtive
Peering at the shore
His gills grow still and silent
For he’s met a fox before

The frog floats on a flower
Singing strong and proud
From time to time he nabs a bug
From the thick and buzzing cloud

The flies all flit and fumble
Done in by graceless genes
You could say they move swift
Though more akin to a careen

The flourishing fans of ferns
Reach widely with their fronds
They add their rich green hues
To this, the prettiest of ponds

Sentimental Sunday: In Fading Light

In fading light we rambled
Hypnotized by the stars
Washed clean by blue horizons
Unable to see scars

Just silhouettes in motion
Swaddled by the dark
The moon was just then rising
The world no longer stark

The dwindling warmth of daytime
Still comforted our feet
But the night air with its coolness
Made the journey long and sweet

We could see forever
In the multitude of night
We knew life was a struggle
But we decided not to fight

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