Sunday, April 22, 2018

In Spring the Owls Hoot


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Spring the Owls Hoot


In spring the owls hoot back and forth,
   From one end of our 50 acre wood
To the other; singing solemn songs
   To one another in double couplets.

Two wise old birds looking for love,
   Casting feathered sonnets on the breeze
Whispering through the leaves and branches
   Searching for the hollow of another owlish ear.

In spring the owls, high in the branches looking down,
    Are at it all day when usually they are sleeping,
Startling jays and crows with their gruff songs of love,
   And scaring the crap out of the squirrels.

© 2018 by Tom King


Vegan Secret Sin





Vegan Secret Sin

There was a young woman from Seattle;
A vegan who would not eat cattle.
She ate only veggies,
And leaves off the hedges,
But has a weakness for chicken don't tattle.

© 2018 by Tom King

Friday, April 20, 2018

Infinities of Choosing





 

 

 

 

 

Infinities of Choosing

Paths diverge in the woods.
Not just one or two, but ten and twenty.
Choices ad infinitum
Stretching out ahead among the trees;
Among the hills and waterways.
A thousand choices, a thousand paths,
Each choice a share in all creation,
Each selection a partnership with God.
We wend our long befuddled way through time
And vast and breathless spaces.
For without the act of choosing
Creation would have faltered at the start.
Unless the first footfalls of the making
Of the universe were chosen by a warm
And wise intelligence that loved us and built
This infinite home for children yet to be.

© 2018 by Tom King

Now I'm Sixty-Four




Now I’m Sixty-Four

Happy birthday to me
I grew up in the trees,
Now I’m just an old ape-man,
With two gimpy knees.

© 2018 by Tom King


Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Rows of Soldiers



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rows of Soldiers


Painted footprints on the sidewalk
In front of the recruiting office
Where young men and women line up standing tall
In a row, their first time as soldiers.

In antiquated tidy rows they learn to stand,
Row on row on parade grounds marching,
For commanders who still love rows
Despite their lack of usefulness in modern war.

No one attacks in close formation anymore,
Or boxes like Napoleon’s or static lines like Redcoats.
No one lines up neatly to be slaughtered anymore
By other men in other lines with guns and standing at attention. 

Instead they fight the way our fathers fought,
In the beginning when with rifled muskets, taking pot shots.
American soldiers hid behind the trees and rocks, not fighting fair,
But fighting for a purpose; fighting to be free.

And in the end our soldiers, not so young now,
Come home to stand in neat lines on parade grounds
One more time to give us one last look and a chance
To show our gratitude,
          ... for their service.

 
© 2018 by Tom King

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

We See the Sun


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We See the Sun

Even when the sky is gray
And the clouds so thick you can’t see where
Or if the sun is shining still,
And yet we know the sun is there
For by it I see everything
In the scattered light of day.
I know tomorrow grass will grow
And soon the clouds will roll away.
Storms may hide the sun sometimes
And in the darkness fling the thunder,
Lightning, hail and sheets of rain,
And cause us all to wonder,
Why the gentle warming sun
Would allow the wind and snow.
Until you see the daisies rise
Among the puddles, then you know.

© 2018 by Tom King

Monday, April 16, 2018

Zombie Piano Player - A Limerick



The Zombie Piano Player

There once was a conspiracy theorist,
Who fell in love with a concert pianist,
But got it into her head
That he was already dead.
Saw no future with a zombie. She's a realist.