Monday, May 14, 2018

The Moth Girls


 

 

The Moth Girls

Up and up the moth girls ascended
On heated zephyrs with iridescent wings,
Lifting them up toward the flickering stars
Above where aerie heights beckoned “Join us.”

And in their brief ascent toward the high places,
The moth girls touched the flames along the way;
Flames that fed the updrafts that were lifting them
In exchange for the kind of fuel that feeds a fire.

Hashtag angels, judged worthy by the very fire
That singed and blackened their nacreous wings;
Flames that judged their further worth by whether
Their youth and beauty had yet been all burned up.

Pity the moth girls weary of the long climb,
Wings tattered, crying out because to be a star
Seems now too great a price to ever pay,
Now that the aerie heights seem finally lost to them.

They join a thousand other me-too moth girls
Spinning down, trailing smoke, emitting thin pathetic screams
Because in the cold and pitiless air of the descent they feel
Their burned skin and the nakedness of their wings. 

And so, the hastag moth girls cry, “The cruel flames above;
That fed our giddy ascent must be extinguished!
For the brightness of the light must not draw the innocent
Upward toward our once high places, bought with our own iridescence.”

© 2018 by Tom King

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

Pressing Business


 

 Pressing Business


My shirts tend to be a bit wrinkled these days.
   I don’t even own an iron anymore.
       Perma-press, though not permanent or pressed
            Will have to do for me, I have no ironing board.

I guess I ought to get one just in case,
   I ever have to go someplace formal,
       Or even semi-formal with a tie and all
            Though I haven’t donned a tie in ages.

Things are changing for us baby boomers,
    Even simple things finally settle into a rut.
        With other comfortable things we’ve tossed in there
              Over the years, collecting the best things in life.

Trouble is that once we’ve become set in our ways
     And predictable in our moods and appetites,
           No one is interested in asking us anymore,
                What we care about or whether we’d like to try something new.

So we get along fine without irons and ironing boards          
     Our music collections grow more slowly and selectively.
           And we eat the same things for supper and brush our teeth
                 With the same danged toothpaste we always use.

And furthermore we don’t even care if adult children don’t like it.
     And think we’re no longer even relevant.
           And isn’t it nice to be content to be just who we are,
                  And finally free of caring about the judgment of others.


© 2018 by Tom King

Monday, April 30, 2018

We Ain’t Going Quiet-Like


Getting old is not for sissies
   If you’re weak they bundle you off
Somewhere you can be taken care of
   Somewhere they can drop you off.
Be careful in your golden years,
   You might want to move far away.
Where the kids can’t watch you deteriorate,
   And maybe send the grandkids to stay.
I blame my Irish ancestors
   That land of youth from their stories
Has given us committees now to determine
   If we’re still in “worth treating” categories.
The Golden Years it seems have gone brass
   Not in favor with those who advertise
So they cancel our favorite TV shows,
   We’re the wrong demographic I surmise.
But the youth of the rising generation
   Have underestimated this generation of geezers.
I don’t think we will go very quietly,
   Though we may be a bunch of old wheezers.

© 2018 by Tom King

Saturday, April 28, 2018

The New Sea




The New Sea

What will God do with us sailors?
   In the New Earth if there is no sea?
I can’t imagine a world without dolphins.
   No whales, no old walruses like me.
I had plans to build a sailboat in Earth made new,
   A catamaran, a schooner, sloop, or yacht or
A ketch I can launch, board and sail on,
   Surely God can spare enough water.
Jesus likes fishermen and sailors.
   They were the first ones that He chose.
So for now I'll trust Jesus, who loves me,
   For my love for the sea He knows.   
  
 © 2018 by Tom King

Friday, April 27, 2018

In a Moment


 

In A Moment

In a moment, I knew God had breathed in me.
I knew it the way my body knows
Oxygen when I draw breath
In great gasping lungfuls.
After diving deep beneath the water
Far from the good cool air.

In the twinkling of an eye, I saw light
Pouring through a crack He opened
In heaven’s door for me so I could see
My way in the world by its gleaming;
A light that follows me down the years
Till even now it shows the way.

At the last trumpet, I will know Him
Hear the hoofbeats of his coming in the distance,
And feel the thunder of his approach.
As the clouds roll in and the sky breaks open.
I see the signs, smell the season’s changing,
And hear the wind among the ripening harvest.

We shall not all sleep but we shall all be changed.
 Feel the stirrings of endless ages yet to come
Within our hearts. and in the stillness of the morning,
Rumblings in the Earth and lightnings upon the mountains,
Announcing the moment, the twinkling of the eye,
In which eternity begins, and tomorrow sings of endless joy.

I Corinthians: 15:52

© 2018 by Tom King

Thursday, April 26, 2018

Four Letter Words


 

Four Letter Words

Mom’s firm with them kids that were hers,
Don’t cuss, don’t sass, wipe your feet.
Don’t soil, don’t muss, your best duds.
Moms like when your suit doth stay neat.

© 2018 by Tom King

Mono-Syllabic



Mono-Syllabic


As president, Cal scarce did say aught,
"Use long words?" he said "I shall not."
Just words that are short
Were for him favorite sport.
He kept his conversation quite taut.

© 2018 by Tom King