April 25 - A Premature Requiem for Poets

A Premature Requiem for Poets

Poetry is not what it was
A hundred and ten years ago.
Before we had TVs' or cinemascope
Before there was even a radio.

You didn't have CDs or even,
Albums of popular songs
If you didn't play a decent piano,
It was hard to host sing-alongs.

If you could not carry a tune,
Then poems were all that you had,
Tennyson, Byron, Wordsworth or Shelley.
You could read if your singing was bad.

With technology our tastes grow eclectic.
We've the best in music and singing.
Our poets are performers these days.
So free verse is history I'm thinking.

I don't think it's so bad we should mourn,
Poetry's not dead it just ebbs.
I think that poetical verse will remain
As long as there are world wide webs.


Professional poets write music these days.
Classical musicians write film scores.
Art evolves by natural selection.
And gets better the more it explores.

And poets and singers once going unnoticed,
Have a web page and post poetical sessions.
All by themselves at no cost to their pockets,
They publish without anyone's permission.

Cruising the ocean of artistic devotion
The work of shopkeepers and peasants.
And mothers and children who love to create.
Is a pastime that I find quite pleasant.

You may not find tens of thousands of fans,
But you may find in creating your art,
A way to connect with poetical friends
And it may be good for your heart.


© 2020 by Tom King

April 24 - There Was a Conspiracy Theorist

There Was a Conspiracy Theorist

There once was a conspiracy theorist
Who no matter the perceived degree of risk
Believed that Big Pharmas
Want only to harm us
Disagree and he says you're no realist.

This conspiracy nut says that vaccines,
Are a plot and the government's means
To kill off lots of people
He refers to as "sheeple"
On the web the guy struts and he preens.

The whole thing's a plot and I think,
Something about it's beginning to stink.
When you verify sources,
His "research" of course is
Full of holes - an attempt to hoodwink.

The devil's always in the details.
Anything to run off the rails
The vain and the shallow
With brains like marshmallow
And trusting folk deceived by wild tales.

The bright spot in all of this game
Is how karma may lay out the blame.
A pandemic comes,
To a virus he succumbs,
Mother Nature makes conspiracies look lame.

© 2020 by Tom King

April 23 - The Halls Between the Mountains

The Halls Between the Mountains

I've stood at the edge between high forest fastness
And the yawning open valley below
A place that lifts the senses and lifts too the heart,
And just a bit, uplifts a human's ego.

Standing above a canyon, valley, mountain pass or rift
Elevates a man's sense of self-worth as though,
A simple climb had made him king of all
That he surveys stretched out below.

If you want to gain a sense of who you are,
Go down into the mountain halls,
Where sky's a crack of blue above, and you so small
Stand humbled there between those great and stony walls.

It's here on Earth down in the mountain halls we live.
It's blessings man receives, when majesty he faces.
For here below we learn humility. We're fitted up
To stand upon eternity's high and glorious places.

© 2020 by Tom King

April 22 - There Was an Old Heifer

There Was an Old Heifer


There Was an Old Heifer from Worcester*
Who casually sat on a rorcester
The chickens all squawked
To lay eggs they all balked
The old boy was the hen's morale borcester.

* pronounced "wooster"
© 2020 by Tom King

April 21 - Chasing

Chasing

I went off to chase a dream
When I first set out on life
I was going to be a writer,
With a dog, some kids, a wife.

I chased that dream, some form or other
For forty years and more.
Diversions led me on and off the path
God throws at you all sorts of little chores.

All things work together for good
Paul warned us about all that.
What he never promised was on the trip
You'd get to grow sassy and fat.

The walk with Christ is beautiful
But it often is uncomfortable
And though it may not make you rich,
The voyage will be memorable.

When I began I had no notion,
Where I was bound or what,
Sort of journey it would be,
What doors would open which would not.

Here at the end I'm wondering,
What from here and on will be.
Just like in all my life I guess,
I'll just have to wait and see.

© 2020 by Tom King

April 20 - What Do You Do With A Senile Candidate?

What Do You Do With A Senile Candidate?

Tune:  Drunken Sailor

What do you do with a senile candidate?
What do you do with a senile candidate?
What do you do with a senile candidate?
Early in the campaign....

Send him home and quarantine him. 
Send him home and quarantine him.
Send him home and quarantine him.
And break his stupid camera....

Chorus:
What do you do with a senile candidate?
What do you do with a senile candidate?
What do you do with a senile candidate?
Early in the campaign....

Bury the news in mainstream media.
Bury the news in mainstream media. 
 Bury the news in mainstream media.
Wrap his mouth in duct tape.....  

Chorus:
What do you do with a senile candidate?
What do you do with a senile candidate?
What do you do with a senile candidate?
Early in the campaign....

The DNC has to pick his VP.
The DNC has to pick his VP. 
The DNC has to pick his VP. 
And then call Hillary Clinton....

Chorus:
What do you do with a senile candidate?
What do you do with a senile candidate?
What do you do with a senile candidate?
Early in the campaign....

And say so long to old Joe Biden.
Say so long to old Joe Biden.
Say so long to old Joe Biden.
Once he gets elected....

So, that's how we get socialism. 
That's how we get socialism. 
That's how we get socialism.
As the great Obama planned it!

Chorus:
What do you do with a senile candidate?
What do you do with a senile candidate?
What do you do with a senile candidate?
And give us socialism....


 © 2020 by Tom King
 

April 19 - Officially Old

Officially Old

Happy Birthday, happy birthday to me
Ah, foo. How 'bout let's forget it.
I was 65 last time around.
I'd become a senior I get it.
This year I'm a cool 66 with arthritis.
It's official, I'm legitimately old now.
I could tell by the level of pain in my bones,
I need to admit it somehow.

Now that this dad gum birthday is past,
I'd like to think I'm just a year older.
But it's funny how numbers can throw off your game,
Age can be in the eye of the beholder.
In my head I am twenty I remember the moves
That made me an athletic young fellow.
Though my head still remembers my body's forgot
My muscles have grown steadily more mellow.

Intelligence crystallizes the older you become,
So our responses are slower but wiser.
That's why in some cultures their aged are treated
As respected reliable advisors.
I wish I still held that same sort of opinion
But self-image by media's been corrupted.
Still I can l think with wisdom, come up with answers,
So long as I am not interrupted.

© 2020 by Tom King