WE ARE LIKE TREES

We are like trees. When a seed
of an oak tree is placed in earth
and given water, then light, the
life of that oak tree begins. When
a ***** enters an ****, the life
of a human being begins;  all
other arguments are specious.
Both need special care. Given
that care, the oak seed will sprout
from the earth and continue to
grow. The human embryo needs
nine months in the womb before
it will be put into a nursery. The oak
sprout will, most likely, need to
be in a nursery from its conception.
If cared for, both the tiny, tiny tree
and the tiny, tiny human being
will grow bigger. The key is care,
and the caring is love. Over years,
decades, both will grow larger and
stronger. Both will face illnesses,
and in the vast majority of cases,
will survive them. Trees will show
leaves, grow bark, provide shade
and beauty, even as they grow
their own seeds. Human beings
will learn more and more as they
grow older and older. Trees will
let robins and squirrels make
their homes in them. Human
beings will grow compassionate
and wise;  many will shepherd in
new life to care for. Both will grow
old, but before they die, they will
look back on their lives and remem-
ber the love they themselves en-
joyed and shared with each other.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

**** NOTHING

**** nothing. Out of 3,400 years
of recorded history, only a
few over 200 have been
deemed peaceful. Wars are
the most heinous acts perpe-
trated by human beings against
other human beings, yet wars
remain the basso continuo of
our collective existence. Over
half of the GNP of the United
Sates is spent on the military
and the myriad weapons we
procure for it to **** other human
beings. This is pure madness.
I **** nothing. I am a conscientious
lover. If a gnat, so small I can
barely see it crawling across my
desk, I will not **** it, because every
living creation in the Cosmos is
sacred. Do not **** to eat. Eat fruits
that come from plants that will keep
on living. Eat vegetables from
plants whose natural lives will
end shortly. We are now killing
Mother Earth:  castastrophic climate
change and nuclear holocaust are
existential threats to all living creations.
One hydrogen bomb is a thousand
times more deadly than were each
of the atomic bombs we dropped on
Hiroshima and Nagasaki, yet there
are thousands of hydrogen bombs
around the world today. And even if
only one were accidentally to explode,
it would be enough to create “nuclear
winter,” which, in turn, would destroy
all life on Earth. **** nothing.

Copyright 2019 Tod Howard Hawks

IT MATTERS NOT

It matters not how many
like your poems. Shakespeare
wrote 154 sonnets. I have but
one favorite:  the 73rd.
Shelly wrote “Ozmandias.” I
still do not like it. John Donne’s
piece of writing, which someone
turned into a poem, from which
Hemingway pulled the phrase
“For Whom the Bell Tolls” that
he used as the title of one of
his novels (a common practice
with which I do not agree) is
my favorite. Frost’s poems “The
Road Not Taken” and “Mending
Wall” are my two favorites, but he
wrote many poems (he wrote poems
better than he could recite them).
Emily Dickinson wrote over 1,800
poems, but how many of them
can you remember verbatim?
It matters not how many like
your poems. What matters only
is if they are your poems, if they
come from your heart and soul,
if they write themselves as they
well up in you, not coerced, not
contrived, not fabricated. Do
you like your poems? That’s all
that matters.

Copyright 2019 Tod Howard Hawks

When is a man destitute? Destitution
is not being impecunious. If ever you
are poor, you are poor of heart. If ever
you are without, you are impoverished
of spirit. When coins of kindness cease to
flow from your being, then you are destitute.
Wealth is not worth.

Copyright 2019 Tod Howard Hawks

WOMAN

I would have made Woman if God
had not. Of course, we need
to complete the pair to procreate,
but there is much, much more.
Ineffable qualities when mingled
and mixed create a mystical whole
greater than the sum of its parts.
Their subtle differences evoke
and complement each other.
When melded, they forge a new
form made of love of heart and
body, of spirit and soul. When
holding hands, two become one.
When Man hugs Woman, they
become huge;  passion becomes
their hunger;  they feast on one
another, but not to devour;  rather,
to make myriad ways of touching
and pullulating that flower loves
coruscating the heavens, creating
more and more galaxies filled
with countless other lovers, a
shower of sharings, a cosmic
apogee that never misses
even a single kiss.

Copyright 2019 Tod Howard Hawks

WHEN YOU KNOW THE NEXT KISS

When I see you, I see me.
When I see you slowly getting
older, I see myself doing the
same.

You are my mirror. Your
wrinkles are my wrinkles. When
your hair slowly grows grey, mine
is slowly greying too.

On any given day, I am oblivious
to this synchronicity. I am sure I
am your mirror, too, but, like me,
you say nothing.

We have, by now, spent years,
decades, making love, laughing,
eating, taking trips together, holding
each other until the tears stopped
flowing.

We are, as it were, parallel partners
on a long, long journey, the end of
which neither of us knows.

So kiss me many, many times,
and when you know the next kiss
will be your last, keep your lips
pressed against mine forever.

Copyright 2019 Tod Howard Hawks

WELL, JOANNIE, MY DEAR

Well, Joannie, my dear,
here you are again,
slim and graceful as
you always are, your voice
hanging in the air.
Beauty that goes deeper
than your heart, melodies
that so fall apart, but I love
you so I pick them out
of air and hand them back
to you.

I see you all of your life, your
singing on stage like a recur-
ring dream, black hair falling
over brown skin, thin and
thick at the same time, rhyme
and rhythm mixing into a
stream of love that courses
through me endlessly. I kiss
your guitar that never goes
afar but is always on your
hip;  I’ll not let it slip.

I see you singing to one
fellow in the third row, then
realize he sits almost ever-
where, floating on every chord,
Lord knows how many men
have fallen in love with you.
But I do not misconstrue;  I know
you are the world’s love, and I
share you with eternity and bliss
and share your every kiss with
all who need your wisdom and
warmth. As I’m with you every
day, I say, “Baez, you are fighting
wars, putting just into justice,
loving Dr. King, willing to die
for him, stopping only to re-
ceive another accolade, which
you place into your silky black
hair, so fair.

I am with you even when you’re
far away. I stay in you when you’re
in Bangladesh and Montreal. Your
face stays young, Your voice, too,
is as fresh as Spring, and though
your hair is grayer now, I see you
as you always are, ageless, tran-
scending time.

God bless you for the life you’ve
lived, an easing of the strife of billions,
No minions there, just you on
stage, your guitar that floats
through air, love and bliss
that blesses and kisses every
soul you sing to.

Copyright 2019 Tod Howard Hawks