Sammi’s Weekender #201 (orbit)


Moon’s Grace

What about the moon?
I see it and can feel something
unlike the Sun or stars.

Mona, Selene, Luna, or Mwezi,
a nameless orb.
The Moon is

Waxing, waning, or full;
in orbit, playing with tides, waking
creatures of the night,
inspiring music and stories,
the moon relates to us.


Look both ways.
It is the same moon it’s always been and always will be.
Mind the gaps when it’s new and dark as night.

Sammi’s Weekender #191 (crucible)

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Anarchy Unmasked

Let dogs of anarchy desecrate
this history of earned heritage,
as shameful palls shake
souls of long defended freedom.

Withstand this crucible of vile hate
set deep in mindless true believers,
followers waving flags of folly,
in vulgar disgust beneath daemons.

Let us all stand tall and proud,
defending democratic doors
and windows to fearless hearts, trust
this legacy; let it be, set it free.

“Stand ye calm and resolute,
Like a forest close and mute,
With folded arms and looks which are
Weapons of unvanquished war.”

Let tyrants dare, in agony of despair,
to dislodge righteous love for freedom.

***

Quotation is from The Masque of Anarchy by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1819).


Look both ways. Say never to tyranny.
Let us mind the gaps but withstand our tested love of Liberty,
that masked delicate lady in scrubs who defends life.

 

Sammi’s Weekender #187 (niggle)

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Expostulated Love

“I love that man,” was what she said to me,
and “I hate that other one,” her follow-on, bait-switch statement,
that morsel of red herring to mislead my unwanted retort
to her bleating caterwaul. I knew this kvetch ranked
behind turd infected punji sticks in heart and soul.

Niggle not. Poetry is sycophantic art when inoffensive kindness
and socially sensitive ethics are euphemisms for hidden truth.


Look both ways, if he can tell it like it is, I’m also justified.
Mind gaps for expiration of truth.

Sammi’s Weekender (Dire)


From the Universe, I call down a pox upon them.
Dirae with Furiae shall tear their poisonous skin
to feed comrade vultures sitting in shadows of guilt.

Curators of dire curses upon innocents, dealers of death cards,
may shepherds of fools find woeful futures haunted
by those who paid the greatest price to dance with fantasy and lies.


Look both ways seeking answers, but beware
gaps of darkness are where truth is hard and lies come easy.