I joined this site last year in March
and have found many voices since
that kindly welcomed what I wrote
with ‘likes’ and comments
even messages

thank you, my friends

I was a short-time member of some other sites
and from my past experience I have to say
that hp is the liveliest of all I’ve visited

even if there at times are posts that sound mean-spirited
and the occasional invasions of silly trolls
    make you aware that on the internet nothing is safe
    from the shenanigans of some frustrated idiots

in sum
    and in comparison with other sites
given its size and its diversity
hp is doing fairly well

to keep exchange of voices and ideas
    benevolent advice    constructive criticism
    helpful encouragement of younger members
    and sometimes simply kind remarks
alive    and spread the urge of writing poetry
    that helps us to articulate our loves and fears

to keep alive this spirit of creative art
is  our formidable work in progress
in which we all should lovingly play our part

you know you have reached advanced maturity
when the most exciting nightly event
is falling down the stairs in the dark  and
surviving with only minor cuts and bruises

our lives are fraught with numbers

so many fractions of a second faster in a race  
most wins on record   best jury votes
highest flight   deepest dive   most goals
meters of rising sea levels
millions of refugees   and more displaced
tens of thousands  honor killings
thousands of deaths with Ebola  
millions of Zika virus victims next year
billions of deficit or profit in import/export
    or the stock exchange
votes in elections    or for beauty queens

polls    tweets   virtual friends  & followers
likes on the social media    on hellopoetry

we have been taught to measure our status
our importance   and the significance of our lives
in clicks of other peoples’ digital devices

even our time has been reduced to numbers
the digital has long replaced the comprehensive
instead of the round dial that shows 12 hours
    suggesting the duration of a normal day
we have a punctual display  without the whole
the cyclical has lost against the linear

0101010101010101010101010101010101
we all look forward to our numbered future
no past  and very little present

our hands on smart phones    homes    TVs
    pushing a button makes things move
    swishing a screen displays the world

over all that we easily forget
that we ourselves have been reduced to numbers
    of customers for businesses
    of voters for the politicians
    of workers for the corporations
    of citizens for our nations
digital quantities we have become

and if we take a global view
we are part of the seven billion plus
that currently inhabit our earth


all of which do expect their individuality
be honored  and their dignity respected

numbers don’t  honor individuality
they simply count the units
items  or people  are for them the same

it’s left to us to find a way
that leaves the numbers in their place
yet guarantees us dignity
as individual members of the human race

of legendary origin
encroached upon
throughout the centuries
by human fear
   seeking protection
   near some venerable shape

you stand

aloof

   silently balancing
   symmetrical circles
   of roots and crown

patiently oblivious of parks
and buildings made by those
who vainly walk in awe
to grasp the mystery
   in touch, in picture, meditation
   of otherness unmoved

plantlife millenial

the venerable Plato would have shunned
the very title of this verse

for him philosophy and poetry
were as diverse as Spartans and Athenians
who fought each other in his time

yet later thinkers of the western world
    as well as many teachings farther east and south
were much less adamant to so divide
philosophers, statesmen and politicians
from those who gave aesthetic shapes to life
made people gather in their public places
in theaters  or just with friends next door
to listen to the words that offered powerful examples
    of love and pain and happiness
    of power   treachery and greed
    losses and victories   and visions
    of our origins and what the future might be like
and that to recognize and love the beauty of our world
    leads us to understand the depths of life
    so we may choose our paths accordingly

that was the time when beauty   truth and  good were
                                      one

such words are difficult to find in our time
when three-word soundbites have replaced coherent speech  
statesmen are few and politicians many
professionals claim expertise each in their fields
talk business only with their kind

philosophers  speak to each other
    at conferences and universities
poetics are not really on their mind

poets have found themselves part of the arts
whose function in the common understanding
is to embellish everybody’s everyday
with pleasant images and notions
mending the harm done by so many hurt emotions

Plato’s revenge   it seems
has finally come home to roost
and the poetics of philosophy
is surely  desperate to receive a major boost

it is the night
lit by the moon  
    best if it’s full
that gives strange shadows to familiar things
when poets are supposedly inspired
to write about their pain   their love  
     often the same
important thoughts of life and death
their joys of the quotidian   and
that you catch the day
and live it like it were your last

    you never know
    just a split second
    and your life has turned into your past

benignly, though, the moonlight introduces softer thoughts
of passion and of the beloved
    distant in space but always close in mind
romantic moments lingering in afterthoughts

some times  I think  that if it were not for the distance
that always separates those who have pined
for their reunion
the world’s treasure of poetry might just be half
of what it is today

the same may well be true for all the lines
penned under tears about that unrequited love
addressed to those unwilling subjects of desire
who often  in the course of writing
turn into objects of the writers’ ire

the moonlight’s pristine shine
    in fact a mere reflection of the sun
for a few hours of the night
changes our vision
opens up doors to different worlds
    full of desire, hope, and desperation
allows us glimpses of ourselves
that daylight never shows

we feel we can speak words
under the pale light of the moon
or the dark corners of the night
that would not make much sense
under the brilliance of the sun

the quiet splendor of the moonlight’s grace
lets us experience that other space
we tend to close and keep apart
in our hasty tour of every day

that’s why
in our few calm moments
we all should listen to what they
    our poets
have to say about the night
the moon’s  strange light
and how it keeps their thoughts in flight