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there are dnfs

(dnfs stands for did not finish and a dnf can be devastating for a long-distance runner)

and on a report card the letter f is a failing grade

(the student of sufficient shame may also think of f for fool, for frustrated, for feeble-minded)

there are divorces and bankruptcies and estrangements and mass shootings

..

there are creative failures

but we can turn them into misfires if we try try again and pay attention to concept and execution

..

there are also melting glaciers

cardiac arrests

but the mother of all failures is cowardice

(failure of nerve)

and in this year and last we have borne witness to cowards in power cowed by a presidential coward who in turn kow-tows to a muscovite who has enthralled him

and this has engendered a failure of national enlightenment

the silencing of the voice of America

death and destruction abroad

and everlasting shame

..

but some few of us fight against and fight whole-heartedly

stansbury of new mexico

king of maine

schwartzenegger of california

valenzuela of washington state

..

so let’s not call a time of death on this beloved nation just yet

we have heroes

we have receipts

and we have fierceness where it counts

isogi, friends

Here are three poems I wrote this weekend to answer a challenge by my friend Joseph A. in our Facebook group Poets All Call. Joe’s challenge was threefold (four, if you count “Have fun!”):

Write an adult version of a childrens’ poem/book.

Write about a really bad cup of coffee.

Write about a cold, rainy spring day.

Have fun!

And here was my response:

the feline in the fedora

two children watched the raindrops paint the window
they sighed with boredom aching for a change
they hadn’t had their fun thus knees unskinned though
they’d trade unscrapedness for something strange.

as if in answer to a summons in came
an oversized and overtopped old cat
and jazzed their glazed expressions when his grin came
to prove contagious making cheeks unflat

he doffed fedora in the act releasing
two things called things who ran the household ragged
and carved the kitchen air with lightning greasing
the wheels of fun though sloppy paths went jagged

the things dived in the hat hat went ahead
and out the door of destiny cat fled

grounds for complaint?
 
i like my coffee liquid,
and non-corrosive too,
assertive but not armpit-strong.
unmerrily we scald along:
the serpent’s fang, the pitchfork’s prong,
the muck from cheech & tommy’s bong,
the nether regions of king kong.
this coffee makes me sick, kid,
but wakes me up, for true.
 
At-Brisk Children
(to the memories of Ogden Nash and Shel Silverstein)

April Showers are sometimes cold.
Take umbrellas unless you’re bold,
Watch the puddles; they’re full of sloshes;
No one any more wears galoshes.
Feel the wind going through your cloth.
Wish your face felt the steam of broth.
Go inside to relax and thrive.
You’ve been COLD, but felt So Alive!