Been working on a number of drafts on subjects from Pope Francis, finishing my apologetic, a series on assimilation in Europe and the United States, and other sundry subjects. With work, travel and the holidays, it has been put on the back burner unfortunately. In the meantime, I figure I would take a break from the sometimes morbid and depressing news cycle and put up some poetry; some recent, most not.
Paths
How soon a life stops short
And another one begins
How quickly paths diverge
Only to cross again.
So as this chapter closes
With another soon to start
I stand here amazed
How life deftly darts.
How soon a chapter halts
Wishing it doesn’t end.
With every chapter though,
the Author dutifully attends.
In the not so distant future
I see our paths will rend.
Who can really say,
If it truly is the end?
That Damned Hill
This no-name hill,
Atop a spring.
Was not so still,
Once war would ring.
A nameless war,
Ran to and fro.
Our lives, it tore,
It cut us so.
Seeped in blood,
The hill remains.
Now red, the mud,
Our earthly chains.
There lay the brave,
In that damn hill.
Our unmarked grave,
For which we killed.
All Hands On Deck
The waves crash o’er and o’er the ship
From the captain down to lowly Pip
The ship goes down at the ocean’s beck
The ship goes down, all hands on deck.
The gales bear down on this tiny raft
Stores go flying, both port and aft
Adrift on the sea, naught but a speck
The ship goes down, all hands on deck.
No news comes home, but word goes round
The sailors’ souls have gone Hell-bound
Our bleach’d bones lie inside that wreck
The ship goes down, all hands on deck.
Divide
I walked up this hill
For some peace to find
To ease the worrying of,
My dark, busy mind
I saw a wire fence
Just a lonely strand
Going throughout, across
Dividing the land
A peace from war
The dark from light
The weak from strong
A day from night
I walked down this hill
And out through the land
Still in my mind fixed,
That solit’ry strand
♦♦♦
Some favorite poets of mine as well as some sources;
Musings On The Right 