monument 14

Emmy Laybourne knows about drama,
the way a kid knows about his dad or mama,
when tornado Lucinda Anne hits central Oklahoma,
14 children are sent to Monument Rebecca.
.
Shelter and limited space,
Food and water shortage,
some suggests that they shall go to Perry Noble for advice,
in the end, they have Denver Altus air force giving news covergae.
.
the new York times gives blood,
the Los Angeles times sends tents,
Michelle Obama delivers love of God,
Kurt biden introduces lots of friends.
.
will the 14 be secured?
or will they lose themselves on their search to safety place and be well fed?
questions stir,
ask the Fir and Bir.....

Thursday Poets Rally Week 79: January 14-January 27, 2015 (5th anniversary celebration)



 
 google.com

Exchanging Hats by Elizabeth Bishop

 

Unfunny uncles who insist
in trying on a lady's hat,
--oh, even if the joke falls flat,
we share your slight transvestite twist
in spite of our embarrassment.
Costume and custom are complex.
The headgear of the other sex
inspires us to experiment.
Anandrous aunts, who, at the beach
with paper plates upon your laps,
keep putting on the yachtsmen's caps
with exhibitionistic screech,
the visors hanging o'er the ear
so that the golden anchors drag,
--the tides of fashion never lag.
Such caps may not be worn next year.
Or you who don the paper plate
itself, and put some grapes upon it,
or sport the Indian's feather bonnet,
--perversities may aggravate
the natural madness of the hatter.
And if the opera hats collapse
and crowns grow draughty, then, perhaps,
he thinks what might a miter matter?
Unfunny uncle, you who wore a
hat too big, or one too many,
tell us, can't you, are there any
stars inside your black fedora?
Aunt exemplary and slim,
with avernal eyes, we wonder
what slow changes they see under
their vast, shady, turned-down brim.

 
 
 

google.com

The Rock and the Bubble by Louisa May Alcott

 
 

Oh! a bare, brown rock
Stood up in the sea,
The waves at its feet
Dancing merrily.
A little bubble
Once came sailing by,
And thus to the rock
Did it gayly cry,
Ho! clumsy brown stone,
Quick, make way for me:
I'm the fairest thing
That floats on the sea.
See my rainbow-robe,
See my crown of light,
My glittering form,
So airy and bright.
O'er the waters blue,
I'm floating away,
To dance by the shore
With the foam and spray.
Now, make way, make way;
For the waves are strong,
And their rippling feet
Bear me fast along."
But the great rock stood
Straight up in the sea:
It looked gravely down,
And said pleasantly
Little friend, you must
Go some other way;
For I have not stirred
this many a long day.
Great billows have dashed,
And angry winds blown;
But my sturdy form
Is not overthrown.
Nothing can stir me
In the air or sea;
Then, how can I move,
Little friend, for thee?
Then the waves all laughed
In their voices sweet;
And the sea-birds looked,
From their rocky seat,
At the bubble gay,
Who angrily cried,
While its round cheek glowed
With a foolish pride
You shall move for me;
And you shall not mock
At the words I say,
You ugly, rough rock.
Be silent, wild birds!
While stare you so?
Stop laughing, rude waves,
And help me to go!
"For I am the queen
Of the ocean here,
And this cruel stone
Cannot make me fear.
Dashing fiercely up,
With a scornful word,
Foolish Bubble broke;
But Rock never stirred.
Then said the sea-birds,
Sitting in their nests
To the little ones
Leaning on their breasts,
Be not like Bubble,
Headstrong, rude, and vain,
Seeking by violence
Your object to gain;
"But be like the rock,
Steadfast, true, and strong,
Yet cheerful and kind,
And firm against wrong.
Heed, little birdlings,
And wiser you'll be
For the lesson learned
To-day by the sea.

 

today, I pause, think, and laugh for a good reason

the Sunday

The Sunday swings like
a goat, clothes
his snow white jacket,
illustrates his Somniloquous habit,
measuring the innocence
against the biases from wolf-like animals,
A lamb born to the Willard forest
this weekend, gives blueprints
of the pleasant play of a marvelous
creature with which it enjoys,
The leisure in the middle of Fall
graces the stars, twinkling,
the planets, hidden!
This sheep chuckles
at the light of which
it is morning, the beginning
of the light, and bears
the day with comprehensive embrace.
The future is promising
with woolshipping,
intercontinental...

Image Credit: Google.com

Posted by Malia Butterfly Detroit Lawrence Page                      at 11:05 AM