THE GREAT AMERICAN GAMES

Elect.  Reelect.  One musical chair.
Debate.  Propaganda.  Merry-go-round.
American Dreamer, brave Truth or Dare.

Race. Trickery.  The Tortoise and the Hare.
Special interest mavens prance like proud hounds.
Elect.  Reelect.  One musical chair.

Our Grand Constitution.  Jeopardy.  Beware.
Freedom shredded by fiat.  Source unsound.
American Dreamer, brave Truth or Dare.

Vain civic souls feign veritable care.
Party theriac……verbiage, the noun.
Elect.  Reelect.  One musical chair.

Patriots panic through Labyrinths and lairs.
Governance grotesquely swell and abound.
American Dreamer, brave Truth or Dare.

Wits and Wages, the middle class not spared.
Charades.  Risk.  Go Fish.  No Clue!  Wits End!  Zounds!
Still…..elect.  Reelect.  One musical chair.
American Dreamer, brave Truth or Dare.

Source of Inspiration:  During election year, our lives are consumed by a barrage of political verbiage, enough to leave us stupefied!  But this is a time to remind us of our FREEDOM to make these political decisions.  Therefore, we must revere, respect, and execute the right to vote.  Always!  I was raised by a mother who was a politician and a father who was a highway patrolman.  From my father I learned a healthy respect for the law, and my mother taught me to always vote for the person, not the party.  And always vote, lest you waste or lose your right to vote!

Writing a Villanelle

Words, like ebon tiles jumbled in a game,
Broach Life’s loves, fated wars, edgy affairs.
Poetic portraits in echoic frames.

Oversoon notions tossed into the flame,
Sketchy, shapeless, precociously bare.
Words, like ebon tiles jumbled in a game.

Ancient scribes penned psalms, songs for history fames,
Exemplar recitations trumpets blare.
Poetic portraits in echoic frames.

Burgeoning bards with contemplative aim
Scribble rash embryonic artful wares.
Words, like ebon tiles jumbled in a game.

Abstruse expressions of a soul, marred, maimed,
Scrawled in ink, agony, evoking tears.
Poetic portraits in echoic frames.

Life’e circadian rhythms fan the flames
Of balladry verse.  Passion’s novel pared.
Thus, words, like ebon tiles jumbled in a game,
Poetic portraits in echoic frames.

Source of Inspiration:  A friend of mine coined me The Voice of the Villanelle, and then taught me how to create a blog by the same name.  I’ve been asked many times why I write Villanelles and the answer is……..for the challenge.  My favorite game is Scrabble and writing a Villanelle is much like playing Scrabble.  The rhythm of life is merely mocked by the rhythm of poetry.  And that is why we write………poetry.

Crosswords

Life, like a crossword of questions and clues,
Phrenic play with words; what great toys they make.
This jumble of absurd dailies amuse.

Moments pandered to bemoan or bemuse
The quizzical quakes human tongues bespoke.
Life, like a crossword of questions and clues.

A grid of blank blocks to fill in with truths.
Black holes, the pathways of trails not to take.
This jumble of absurd dailies amuse.

Words, these truths, depend on another’s cues.
Mortals cluster for sodality’s sake.
Life, like a crossword of questions and clues.

Blunders, falsehoods, a domino of rues
Taint the game in a maniacal wake.
This jumble of absurd dailies amuse.

New dawn.  New match for word warriors to muse.
No prize, reward, just gray matter at stake.
And, Life, like a crossword of questions and clues,
This jumble of absurd dailies amuse.

Source of Inspiration for Crosswords
Crosswords, like poetry, are word games–great toys for people of all ages.  I began my writing career at 49.  Before that, I was in hand-to-hand combat with life, living memories to write later.  I encouraged my children to learn the play of words, which they learned early on would serve them well.  Thus, they are expressive and savvy writers.
Crosswords was published in International Who’s Who in Poetry, 2012.

The Swine Waltz

You danced the waltz with queens and kings,
The minuet with dames and earls.
But now you dance the jig and sing
The blues with whiny swine in pearls.

Loud, jivey tongues with silver spoons
Warbled words with flowery long stems.
But forked tongues sing dulcet tunes,
Banal words from the Devil’s hymn.

You danced the minuet in glitzy jewels
Such finery from toe to hair.
But clothes make not the man, the fool,
Won’t cover the shame that you bare.

The dance is charming, so divine
With champagne and pate’ you’re wooed.
But an old adage lost with time,
“Always dance with the one who brought you!”

Dance, dance while the music goes on.
New partner, the Devil’s cut in.
He’s leading now.  But it won’t last long,
As they say, “All good things must come to and end.”

Source of Inspiration for  The Swine Waltz
Pardon my soap box!  I was raised in East Texas by my mother, an elected government official, and my father, a Texas Highway Patrolman.  They taught me to read the newspaper, know what is going on in the world around me, have an opinion, and vote.  Thus, the multimedia world of sensationalism gives me explosive subjects on which to write dramatic opines in poetic form.  Since many of the people in the largest city in Texas (Houston) were affected by the Enron corporate scandal, I was enraged and moved to pen this poem, The Swine’s Waltz, which was originally entitled, “The Enron Waltz”.  
The Swine Waltz was published in The Best Poems and Poets of 2005

Weathered Love

As the gentle rain caresses and nourishes
Tender fibers of Spring’s virgin seed,
So his love bathes my heart, my soul,
Saturating every pore, sating every need.

Love’s tender shoots burst with frenzied fervor,
Heeding not ethereal time.
Fibril scions strengthen as trust imbues
Affirming refuge from variable clime.

But a vile world’s hate will blow hard and cold
A thunderstorm of prejudice, jealousy, and pride.
Fierce thunder will threaten; brash lightning will flash,
But true love will endure Life’s inevitable chide.

Source of Inspiration for Weathered Love
I beg the readers indulgence with yet another poem about love.  But what better words to paint the Colours of the Heart?  After 33 years of marriage, I know the passion and pain of love.  I know the rarity, strength, and power of true love.  And I know that true love is worth all the time and fortitude it takes to safeguard the health of such a gifted relationship.  Never take love for granted!
Weathered Love was published in Colours Of The Heart, Noble House, London, 2004.

Nature’s Symphony

Symphonic sounds mocked nature’s harmony.
His music conjured skies pristine, unspoiled,
Concordant notes like artist’s brush paint
Pastoral scenes obscured from mortal rape.
Majestic mountains painted purple peaks
Crescendoed as the bow and strings embraced.
On notes, the raven’s wings glissade warm winds,
Ascending envied lofts o’er Teton tips.
G clef and F clef render raven’s wings
Such freedom rarely seen on earthly ground.
Effortlessly broad wings traverse the skies,
These cleansing breezes free the raven’s soul.
Melodic resonance, sweet songs of peace
Suffuse the raven’s grand inherent winds,
Negating sounds of hunger, babes in pain,
Reporting waves of war despoiling lands,
Of souls in search of hope and blissful peace,
Exalt the raven’s hallowed haven high.
Play on, young maestro!  Paint sweet sounds of life.
Expose the raven’s eye for minds to view
A world unknown to unwinged, mortal souls.
Athirst for healing notes of life’s sweet song.
Play on, the sounds of nature’s symphony.

Source of Inspiration for Nature’s Symphony
I was a guest at a gathering of the Houston, Texas Symphony Supporters in 2002.  A cellist with the symphony performed a movement he was inspired to write during a vacation to the Grand Teton Mountains.  His musical interpretation of a raven effortlessly gliding on the summer winds over the Tetons moved me to jot words and thoughts down on a page in my day-timer.  In 2009, I found that page in a file and his music came rushing back inspiring this poem.  Thank you, gifted maestro, whoever, and wherever you are.
Nature’s Symphony was published in Eternal Heartland, Interstate 40, 2010.  The Editor’s Comments:  Your poem’s authenticity comes from its imagery.  With powerful, vivid imagery your poem renders a picturesque scene.  Its controlling image leaves us with strong sensory impressions, placing us within your vision.

The Statesmen of Eden

Ardent, earnest path, sight on civic need,
Yet, choked by past’s unctuous wheels did jade,
Seasoned reputations of pomp and greed.

Vibrant Eden beckons souls to be freed,
Obtuse lambs polish the grand dream man made.
Ardent, earnest path, sight on civic need.

Hacking at Eden’s ceaseless warts and weeds,
Good souls, their fates aborted in the trade.
Seasoned reputations of pomp and greed.

Jobless.  Debt.  Health.  Discontent, oh indeed.
No earmarks.  No aid.  Just get the bills paid!
Ardent, earnest path, sight on civic need.

Embattled servant poised to take the lead,
Ravaged by obdurate scribes, and left flayed.
Seasoned reputations of pomp and greed.

Restless denizen of Eden cry “Cede!”
For career statesmen — their roles overplayed.
Once ardent, earnest paths, sights on civic need,
Seasoned reputations of pomp and greed.

Source of Inspiration for The Statesmen of Eden
I was born to a Texas politician, my mother, and a Texas Highway Patrolman father.  I was taught to read newspapers daily, pay attention to the wheels that governed, and keep an open mind for the platforms of both ruling parties.  Vote for the person not the party, Mom would say.  I tell the readers this in an effort to explain;  we are bombarded with constant media hype for and against the candidates.  But I guess we’ll all survive one more year of blarney!
The Statesmen of Eden was published in Best Poets of 2011.