In Honor of Others, Known and Unknown

The King agonized about speaking
with great frustration.
I speak two languages
with little hesitation.

It dawned on me that even a King
can live a life of fear and fraught.
I realized that ease of speech is another gift
to which I never gave much thought.

It became apparent to me
that others like the King
have such difficult lives and stories.
I started to feel filled with gratitude
that in my lifetime
I have had very few worries.

In the past, I had medical complications
and recurrences, with constant fear.
But how fortunate am I, to have remained healthy
for so many years.

With much ease I am writing this,
with my brain and hands in full cooperation.
For some, this simple act
may cause great frustration.

I often complain and or joke about the antics of my bad ear,
sharing the misinterpretations that abound.
But I can hear the ocean roaring, babies laughing,
and my friends' words of encouragement,
forever thankful for those amazing sounds.

I have a roof over my head,
food to eat and water galore.
If I run out, I can turn on the tap
or just go to the store.

I may need glasses, but my eyes can see.
And, unlike some, my legs still bend at the knee!

Without any thought, I breathe with ease
and my heart beats so naturally.
Many people must struggle,
Their bodies do not respond with such autonomy.

My friend is battling cancer and has no hair.
I look in the mirror, and mine is still there.

Every day I turn on the news
and I see people in distress.
I have at times gotten overwhelmed
just because my house was a mess!

Sans a terrible moment in time,
I have lived a life
where there were no bombers in the sky.
My parents, however, became instant orphans,
and probably spent a lifetime
wondering why.

I will work to change and remember
those in this world with grave limitations.
I would be extremely remiss
if not filled with gratitude and immense appreciation.

by: Sam

For Jimmy Valentine Mallon

A child born on Valentine's day
Is a special soul, of course,
And if that child's named Valentine
Watch out world, he's a force.

So, when I wed my Valentine
I knew right from the start
He'd be kind and gentle
And take good care of my heart.

NIGHT

The grip of midnight arrives
I turn off the light.
The drumbeat of the heart
And the restless legs
Begin the drama of the night.

Oh, happy thoughts come to me
Bring back memories of glorious days
Stave off the darkling thoughts
Let them not break the slumber bliss.

The struggle is fierce.
Forces collide...
I drift off to sleep.

The first ray of light creeps in,
Blinds drawn,
A wild and dewy garden greets me
The morning walk restores me.

The changing vegetation
The churning restless sea
The crisp cool air.

I am now at peace and happy.
May the gods grant me
Many more of these mornings.

by: Willy

RHYME AND RHYTHM

Some experts say poems must have rhyme
But some say merely rhythm
Still others say just let it flow.
There is a major schism.

So getting down to finer points
The most alluring part
And what delights us most of all
Are words that touch the heart.

by: Gigi

Requiem for Three Zebras

Across the glittery green
Of verdant meadows, rain-ripened,
Briny sea scents tang the crystal air
While basking seals bark into the morning hush
And clusters of wildflowers open sleepy eyes.
And on the lush and fertile hillocks
Wildlife laze and graze and roam
In peaceful harmony.

Harmony often evades our social order. Alas.
We, the assigned shepherds of all things earthly,
Too often and selfishly ravage our precious heritage.
And so it is that the deafening blast
From the weapon of an angry rancher
Forever robs us of the slash of black
and the gash of white
Three beautiful zebras who will wander no more
On the wind-swept bluffs of our majestic coast.

by: Gigi

UNDERSTANDING ALICE'S RABBIT

Monday is already here
Sorry, no poem I fear.
You see, I just got back
Then the rush to catch up
On this and that.

Next thing I know it's Monday,
A quarter to seven,
I need a poem to share
A bit of heaven.

What poem do I choose?
Oh, dear, I barely have time
To grab my shoes!

I'm out of time
Oh, look, this rhymes!
Well, then, never mind!

by: Sam

Some People Like Poetry

Some people -
that is not everybody
Not even the majority, but the minority.
Not counting the schools where one must,
And the poets themselves,
There will be perhaps two in a thousand.

Like -
but we also like chicken noodle soup,
we like compliments and the color blue,
we like our old scarves,
we like to have our own way,
we like to pet dogs.

Poetry -
but what is poetry?
More than one flimsy answer
has been given to that question.
And I don't know, and don't know, and I
cling to it as to a lifeline.

by: Wislawa Szymborska
submitted by: Willy