(The Students of Parkland)

A brave young heart that's never sinned
Is caused to take the helm
Tired echoes baffled by the wind
Are exiled from the realm

A brave young voice sings clear and strong
A song that will be learned
A simple tune of right and wrong
For which we've too long yearned

Through dew-filled coddling earth
raised toward a siring sun
my longing arms confirm my birth
in a measure just begun

With verdant sinew lithe and strong
my feet grip firm the ground
entrenched in land where I belong
to each beloved sound

Upon an arbitrary breeze
in every thread that's spun
a secret kept by ancient trees
is told when Autumn's done

The rising sun and fickle moon
etch an ever artless slate
until my withered stem is hewn
by an ageless, common fate

(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?