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Don Bouchard Aug 2017
Classes start today; summer's met its end,
The books lie waiting once again upon the shelf
To share the lie that education is the path for everyone
To happiness and wealth.

Those who will and those who won't succeed
File in and settle down, day one,
Segregated, aggregated in their rows of need,
Stamped by labels and by scores.

The gauntlet lies before them:
Papers, deadlines, speeches, tests
To find the laurel winners.
And to **** the needy rest.

"Success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed,"
Old Emily once said, and she'd be right to say it once again
About the battlefields in every school I've been.

This fall I'm taking time to hear
My students' goals and dreams,
Their challenges and hopes,
To say "I see you with my eyes."
I hope to see their hopes arise.

The race is to the steady, Aesop said,
The plodders beat the plotters in their way,
If we who have the gate keys in our hands
Encourage strugglers to stay.
Thinking about the great aggregation taking place in every school, the separating of the winners and the losers, about educational justice.
Don Bouchard Aug 2017
Invades the finite,
When IMMORTAL
Usurps the mortal,
When OMNISCIENCE
Hovers over finite sentience,
The mortal man I am senses
TRANSCENDENCE,
Stirs uneasily,
Shudders uncontrollably, or
Rises, silently in bliss,
Unable even with a literate mind
To ask, "What meaning lies in this?"
No words can express....
Don Bouchard Jul 2017
At the Sky Ride on St. Thomas
We sweltered in the heat
Waiting for the cable cars to come
Strangers seeking tourist treats

Up the way, a pirate staggered from the depths,
Dressed and drinking imaginary ***,
Wobbling a bit, the player indiscernible on first glance
From one Jack Sparrow.

I couldn't help but wonder to what depths,
Jack Sparrow's character has invaded Johnny Depp.
Don Bouchard Jun 2017
In March, she pushed a shining black calf
Into the world, and watched as it staggered
To wobbling legs waiting for her to rise.

She couldn't.
Pinched nerves,
Calving paralysis,
Unable to rise.

My brother and his wife
Bottle fed the calf for several weeks,
Waiting for a miracle,
For which the two had prayed,
And then one day the mother stood
Weak, shaking, but on the mend.

A couple weeks more,
And she was down again,
Stuck in front of the barn
With barely an appetite,
Drinking water from a bucket,
Resting upright in her own mess.

The calf was doing fine.

June 1 came, and field work to do,
My brother, ever patient, could wait no more.
Loaded his old 30-30 and headed to the barn.

He scratched the cow's forehead,
Told her she had been a good bossy,
And that he was sorry, and then looked at her.
He turned and emptied the rifle on the way to the house.

"Lord, it would sure do me a favor
If you were just to take her
So I wouldn't have to shoot her."

He returned to the barn and hayed the bulls.
On his way back to the water tank, he stopped
By his old friend and looked at her.

The cow raised her head,
And while my brother watched,
Her  eyes rolled up and back.
She sighed deeply, and then her head
Sagged down and she was gone.

He called me shortly after,
Still a little bit in awe,
A little bit in pain,
Glad to have me listen,
Though both our mouths were dumb
At the way God's prayers are answered,
And the ways His answers come.
Prayers, Cows, Life, Death
Don Bouchard Jun 2017
Hanging Obamas?
Beheaded Trumps?
Time for the ghouls
To start taking their lumps.

Stand down the MEDIA,
Hillary, go home,
Rush, stop your spouting,
Warren, go roam.

Our parents have told us
America has no fears
In peaceful revolutions
Every four years.

But this time it's different,
The country's on fire,
On hate we're hell bent
Messing our nests in our ire.

Meanwhile the World looks
At us with awe
To see a great nation
Stagger and yaw.

It's time for the people
Of a nation this great
To pick up the pieces
To stop all the hate,
To rally their causes,
To seek peaceful means
Of political changes
Based on old laws
That preserve the nation
Despite human flaws.
Constitutional Law is only as good as the people who agree to live by it. When the people become so corrupt and weak that they no longer abide by the rules, mayhem results. Welcome to 2017. God help us.
Don Bouchard May 2017
Two screaming cats
Claw their way  
Up the high road,
Wild eyes flashing
WHITE AND RED
WHITE and RED
white and Red
white and red
whitenred
whitenred
red
red
red....

Glad I am home,
I sigh a prayer
In wondering
What roadkill
Waits to feed
Incessant screamers
Southward streaming terror.
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