(an elegy for Aylan Kurdi)

carried on the foam white crest
on wood on water on sand
the cruelty that must be jest
has washed across our land

once i knew a fine young boy
who looked with sad old eyes
upon his own dear life's joy
and the happiness that lies

lift me up my last old friend
my finally, again last chance
my dear beginning and my end
my fleeting final glance

most of what i read
on Hello Poetry
is a sad stampede
of mostly woe-is-me

In the race
to discover
the purpose
of life
nothing beats
happiness.

If everyone
Got
What they wanted
No one
Would
Get anything

Aphorism of the Day:

If everyone were to follow their dreams, then
who's going to pick up the trash?

Aphorism of the Day:

Wealth makes an insidiously tacit
demand that there be poverty.

Let me lay down to rest,

in a sleep that is owed,

on a calm verdant crest

of an old country road

Sing to me a whispered song

and grant my simple plea

Let me stay the whole daylong

beneath a perfect tree