MORTAL:
“The night is cold, the hour is late, the world is bleak and drear;
Who is it knocking at my door?”
Tag: <span>poem</span>
I haven’t’ felt much excitement about the new year. 2016 was a pretty crappy year, may the new one not be as bad, please. That was my silent plea. I never make New Year resolutions, but surprisingly have one for the upcoming year. “Stay calm and don’t give up hope.”
The Calf-Path
Sam Foss (1890)
One day, through the primeval wood,
A calf walked home, as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail as all calves do.
When I was young, I looked at the older me
saw the vision of what I longed to become.
I could see myself dancing in the future
whirling along a path, that hadn’t been built yet.
“The Station”
Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision.
We are traveling by train, out the windows,
we drink in the passing scenes of children
waving at a crossing,
cattle grazing on a distant hillside,
row upon row of corn and wheat,
flatlands and valleys,
mountains and rolling hillsides
and city skylines.
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Glass Woman
Born fragile
Not able to walk
The head broke first
A small piece fell off
Every time I listen to Mr. Trump I shiver inside and the gruesome vision, of him being even close to the White House makes me sick to my stomach. The United States of America is such a beautiful country, and Mr. Trump such an ugly man, who seeks to rule it. The perfect material for fairy tales and poems, if it wouldn’t be so sad.
For more than a year now
do I sit here and listen,
to all what they say
about hopes and dreams.
“In youth, it was a way I had,
To do my best to please.
And change, with every passing lad
To suit his theories.