Monday, April 4, 2022

April 3: Along The High Frontier

 

 


Along the High Frontier

by Tom King

I have never slipped the surly bonds of Earth
   Save firmly strapped in a seat in a big aluminum tube
Rocking along at 25,000 feet, someone else at the stick,
   Who knows how to fly this thing at preposterous speeds.
And ridiculous altitudes, but not in any danger of reaching space,
   Though if you can afford a ticket, perhaps...........

The high frontier for now is the province,
   Of very rich guys and scientists and celebrities.
Someday perhaps before the world blasts itself to atoms,
   A regular schlub like me might catch a ride
Beyond the stratosphere to where space proper has its boundaries.
   And I'd need a special suit to step out on the station's porch.

The High Frontier someday will open out before us,
   When we have had the time, the millenia to to figure out the tech.
Once the work of Earth has been completed and we humans
   Scrubbed of our sins and able to be turned loose out there
In the galaxy, without the fear that we will mess things up,
   There is so much we have yet to learn along the high frontier.

© 2022

Saturday, April 2, 2022

April 2: Packages

Packages
by Tom King

There's nothing like a package
   Arriving in the mail
Unexpected or expected
   A kind of joy that does not fail
To make you feel all special
   Though you bought the thing on sale.

Even if it came from Amazon
   And you bought it for yourself,
It's the mystery of the packaging
   It's the hidden thing itself.
It's that moment of anticipation
   A happiness for myself.

I mean I know just what it probably is,
   And I knew that it was coming,
But still it is the mystery
   That sets my heart to drumming.
That pleasant little mystery,
   That sets me happily humming.

The thing is that until you tear away
   The paper and the shipping tape,
It might be something else than what
   You ordered. In a box the very shape
The other thing was supposed to be.
   From boring just a small escape.

Little mysteries, small offerings,
   Some big, some very small,
Some from near, some from far away,
   From romantic ports of call.
I love arriving packages,
   Wherever from, I love them all.


© 2022
  


 

April 1: Hats made of Fruit


The Girl from Saint Lucyer

I once knew a gal from St. Lucia,
She was know far and wide to be beautier.
When on her head she wore fruit,
She was really quite cute;
A work of art by the island's master frutier.

Tom King
© 4/1/2022

Friday, January 14, 2022

All Those Defining Moments


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All Those Defining Moments
           by Tom King


My Mother showed me books when I was five
And answered endless questions about how the world works.
She read to me, took me places I had never seen before.
Played ball with the neighbor kids in our backyard
Tolerated my brother and me climbing every tree on our place,
Eventually all of them, even the really difficult brittle old oaks,
Let us run the woods, hang piratical sails from the swings
And roam the town till the well-remembered fireflies bid us to come home.

My first real friend, is a dentist and lives 3000 miles away.
We looked out for each other on the playground.
He was a lot bigger than me, and could speak another language.
I was a skinny kid with horn-rimmed glasses
With tape across the nose. I had patches on the knees of my jeans.
His house was where my Mom let me go to play.
I was allowed to walk there - my first ventures
Out in the town alone. Permission granted because I was old enough.

My friend the Colonel is retired from the Air Force now.
We used to run up and down main street in his VW bus
On Saturday nights. That was back in the heyday of our youth.
We went to movies and ate popcorn,
Burgers, fries and steak sandwiches at the Sonic Drive-In
At one end of the Main Street circuit. We watched the guys and their girls
Roll by in battered old cars. We talked about the war his father fought,
And looked at photographs he brought back from the Pacific.

My friend from my new school, I haven’t heard from in close to half a century.
He picked me up from among the cliques and gangs of old friends,
You find in new schools; no room nor time for including newbies.
A new guy too, we ran around in old cars and on motorcycles.
We explored Texas, ate at church potlucks a hundred fifty miles from home.
And he went to bat for me and talked the summer camp director
Into hiring on an inexperienced youth to haul the garbage,
And from there I learned new skills and embraced the world outdoors.

My sister doesn’t talk to me anymore.
It’s been a long time since she went to bat for me
And got me in our high school chorale.
My voice wasn’t that good, but I wanted to belong.
I had the lilt of a second bass, but not the range.
But she wore the choir director down,
She got me the chance to sing with voices better than mine,
And made for me another moment upon which to hang a life.

My brother's 49 years gone, but still I think of things,
I'd like to tell him, that I think he ought to know about,
In the time since Christmas night when we made plans for future Christmases.
He was gone the next day leaving a jagged hole behind
An unfinished defining moment we'll have to complete some day
When we reach that other world we both had in mind to go
If God were to be patient with us and He did a lot of scrubbing
Of our smudged and scruffy souls before He came.

I had other friends, other defining moments, but she is my last and best friend,
The one all those defining moments of my youth prepared me for;
The one who has made all the subsequent moments of our lives,
And defined the steps that we have taken together
The rest of the way along the long and dusty road.
With her, I have learned the myriad of things I had to learn,
Were we going to travel on to the end on this Earth and on.
Into the defining twinkling of an eye moment - my always and forever friend.  

© 2022 by Tom King

 

Friday, December 17, 2021

Big As We Need It To Be

 

 


Big As We Need It To Be

This time of year,
When the expectation of snow,
Hangs in the air and God
Prepares to lay a blanket
Across the fallow winter Earth,
We hang our earnest stockings
By the fire and trim once more,
Our tiny Christmas tree.
That sits atop the bookshelf,
Beside a ceramic lighted church
A porcelain stable and a manger

In our tiny home there's only room.
For a tiny Christmas tree, small
But as big as it needs to be for us.
In Bethlehem there was no room for Him.
Only a tiny manger, small but still He came to it,
To us that night; but an infant and yet,
Bigger than all the world could hold and with Him,
Christmases as big as we'd ever need them to be. 

©2021 by Tom King


 

 

 

 

Friday, December 11, 2020

The Day America Died

 







 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
It Was the Day America Died!
 
Singin' bye bye it's a socialist pie.
Can't drive Chevy's,
I'm not heavy,
I eat kale and get high
Them Washington Boys are drinkin' whisky and rye.
Singin' this'll be the day you comply...
Singin' this'll be the day you comply.

© 2020 by Tom King