Poetry – Page 11 – L.B.Stowe

2B, Carousel Road

Like repels like & opposites attract.
I seek again, before my final act.

My mind & my heart are open to new.
I’ve changed, grown & made space to welcome you.

Meant two different things by what I conveyed.
Metaphoric & literal space made.

I’ve installed new spur lines around my heart;
Ready for novel approaches to start.

Access given isn’t always taken.
I’ll remain determined & unshaken.

In the time it takes for greetings to pass;
I will know just how full is your own glass.

If I’m with you still, past salutations.
Welcome to round two…congratulations.

Cassiopeia

Any adults on battle fields…
Should know that kids aren’t human shields.

If known that shit will hit the fan;
Please spare the children…if you can.

Be brave enough to hold your own.
To hide’s not what they should be shown.

I was a child of battlefields.
I was used as a human shield.

So, yeah; I know of what I speak.
Ducking behind your children…weak.

If your humbling’s coming up soon;
Dont bring children to your high-noon.

Recess

I tire litigating the worst of you.
I know that all tangos require two.

So, I now resign my wig & my robes.
Too, I’m pulling the cord on psychic probes.

Not now, empathizing with fault & blame…
Not even leeway & your gaslight game.

I made a mistake ignoring my gut.
I’m done withstanding these one thousand cuts.

Cordiality, now, the best chance to live…
In a sort of peace; til I can forgive.

Beggar’s Belief

All real trust given is a leap.
A gift of value…wise ones keep.

This trapeze trust we give on faith.
This dance of deeds, must happen safe.

For, sometimes trust is earned by love.
Still, some is forced twixt push & shove.

Yet, either case requires care.
If it’s absent; belief beware.

As reasons pile to question trust…
Don’t wait too long. For, weak links rust.

Grown

I cannot give everything you need.
I can’t afford your water or your feed.

All that I have is the care that I’ve got.
Too, I have love from my limitless lot.

I can’t give to you far off horizons.
I can’t give you exotic environs.

I would share my home, my life & my time.
All else you want, would need be on your dime.

Can’t give you things I don’t already own.
Yet, more always turns up…where love is shown.

Violence of Silence

Our “poverty of character” now looms large.
Where money, not merit, is slipping a charge.

For the poor, divisive disinformation.
The middle has both pride & indignation.

To the rich, permission; to take & break all.
Their tax dodges used to reinforce wealth’s wall.

Divided on truth, on science & on health.
They feed fires of hate on our screens with no stealth.

They won’t bother hiding; the devil’s driving.
Cash, so much more than character, is thriving.

Personal dynamics are suffering too.
So few have the skills, or calm, to talk things thru.

I’m mining this bad for a silver lining.
I take heart at unafraid voices shining.

Tortoise

No college deans nor reading drag queens are vile.
Scapegoating progressives is corrosive bile.

For, everyone has heard, “You can’t stop progress.”
Not with hate, by laws, church…nor even congress.

People are creative & destructive, both.
Each forward step is taken on as an oath.

A promise to grow & push boundaries back.
A promise to make up for the steps we lack.

Because, we will fail…bet your bottom dollar.
But we, in a hole, stop digging & holler.

It is sad to see laws bow before money.
Robber barons aren’t a new concept, Honey.

Before even them, the world was long ravaged.
Wolves wearing blessed sheep’s skin; “saving” the “savage”.

You’ve Imperial or colonial rape…
Both have used the spin of altruism’s cape.

Bullies steal from the meek; just because they can.
They don’t need any of it; monies or land.

What do they want?…full control & all power.
What do they need?…A share of grapes gone sour.

Category: Poetry