Priest

There is something about a priest who walks into a bank on a Wednesday afternoon,

There is something sacred, something honored,

The black robes swish as he joins the queue,

His antique head covered in whisps of white hairs,

He holds back his crucifix as he bends down to fill out a deposit slip.

There is something wholly good,

So that the lady behind wonders if maybe he is on a mission from God,

And the clerk speaks soft in humble tones.

There is something worth respect,

So that even the firmest atheist cannot but stand in line silent.

Total Eclipse

Listen close in springtime gardens; hear

A murmur soft of whispers late at night,

The love duet of voices drawing near,

More dulcet song than any tunesmith's write-

The perfect blending hum of dark and light,

A sprinkling treble chime and throbbing bass.

The words tonight will be tomorrow's delight,

She watches for the moment he awakes,

Shaking sleep to see, as daylight breaks,

Her face; she peeks to catch his first sighs

And bring him round with kisses and embrace,

Her sweetful love to last until she dies.

But now the echo of lips brushing lips,

Love blocking noise in total eclipse.

I'm Too Dirt Poor

I'm too dirt poor

But not been raped

It's too my choice

To try escape

The bill's in court

And should have passed

The Vazquez veto

Breathed its last

With three-fifths more

For women's rights

And fewer kids

In dire plights

But Church is calling

For my soul

Eternal damned

Is the toll

To live on earth

The child must die

But if it did 

Then so would I

The rulers rage

And I just wait

My belly grows

My twelve-week fate

I soon will know

But if my cause

Should this time fail

It will not pause

The world is moving

On my side

And soon my country

Will decide

To raise a child

I'm too dirt poor

Disclaimer: I am in no way advocating abortion.  I saw this article on BBC News (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7724125.stm) and tried to imagine what a woman wanting an abortion in Uruguay right now is feeling.

Smog

Head bobbing

Hands beating the steering wheel

Windows down

Singing like you do in the shower

Waitin' for the light to turn green

Watchin' the cross traffic 

Zoom zoom zoom

Air guitar solo

An eighteen-wheeler pushes through the intersection,

A widening gap in front of it

And a cramped line of cars behind it

As it moves sluggishly under all that weight,

While everyone stopped at the light watches with a frown.

Head bobbing

How embarrassing...

A thick, low cloud of smoke trails behind the truck,

Slowly creeping up to ruin the clean air,

Like some greasy, sleezy brown rat,

Slinking toward the open windows,

Sniffing around the wheels.

Air guitar

Push the button

Windows up

Disgusting...

Bible Class

In class I see Your Word become alive,

No longer learning terms and facts

That help the people on earth to merely survive

In jobs and hobbies, other roles and acts.

My notes are no more covered in random sketch--

The lunch I wish I had instead of class.

Pages show my brain is prone to stretch,

My spirit filled by lasting cup and glass.

You fed me milk and kept me safe at home;

I never feared or doubted what I knew,

And in this fire I sometimes feel alone,

But know the truth will lead me close to You.

Praise to God, for faithfully guide You do,

And again and again my spirit, please, renew.

Humor at the Expense of a New Kitten

I always find a way to tease the cat;

Her brain, you see, is sadly very small.

I'd stop it if I could, but that is that.

I put her treats inside a tilted hat

Then stand it up; she can't escape: too tall.

I always find a way to tease the cat.

Above her head a string she tries to bat.

An awkward spring; it only ends in fall.

I'd stop it if I could, but that is that.

I exercise her so she won't get fat;

I tempt her with a laser on the wall.

I always find a way to tease the cat.

Comfy, scheming in my chair I sat,

She scrambling after an elusive ball.

I'd stop it if I could, but that is that.

Some people ask, "Why do you do that?"

I shrug my shoulders; I don't know at all.

I always find a way to tease the cat;

I'd stop it if I could, but that is that.

Maggie: A Villanelle

Though just a bud, your bright'ning petals bloom

And, racing time, they open toward the sun.

Your freshful sweetness drives away the gloom.

A million words like buzzing honeys zoom

To gather knowledge before your lips are done.

Though just a bud, your bright'ning petals bloom.

When hushed and planted in your bed you fume;

With yawns, demand more time until you've won;

Your sweetful freshness drives away the gloom.

You bravely stand when thundering shadows loom,

Defy the gray, and somber clouds you shun,

Though just a bud; your bright'ning petals bloom.

You play, your smile light as petals' plume,

And innocently boss your friends in fun.

Your sweet-fresh fullness drives away the gloom.

I see some seeds were in our mother's womb,

That you and young Me share so much in common.

Though just a bud, your bright'ning petals bloom;

Your freshful sweetness drives away my gloom.

Prayer

An open air 'neath leaves of green

Is where I love You best,

Where just effects of grace are seen,

Like wind, and give me rest.

With blue and red the stage is lit;

A concert for the King

Is fine until I need to sit,

And hear the Shepherd sing.

Guitar and drums awake my soul

With passion when I'm strong,

But when my heart feels weak and old,

I need a gentler song.

My heart is still now; speak to me

With murmurs in the streams

And whisper softly in the sea

And quiet in my dreams.

To the Greats: A Sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

When I have fears that I may cease to be

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways

William Shakespeare and Christopher Marlowe,

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, John Donne,

Robert Burns, and Andrew Marvell, have won

The majority of the poems I know

And love.  I listen to their words at night,

And their sonnets are the thoughts of my days.

Quotes and lyrics come from my lips as praise;

The genius of my teachers is my sight.

Oh, would that I were a small, humble leaf

To grow on their tree, and there find relief.

Sisterly Advice

In high school lots of people date--

I know some make it; some just don't.

It's fun to cast yourself as bait

And see what you can catch out there.

It's fun to have those silly fights;

It's fun to feel that someone's stare.

There's always a little drama involved;

We're human and it can't be helped

(And no one wants that problem solved). 

My friends and I were all so sweet,

But wanted to grow up too fast

And thought we knew how to handle the heat.

The skirts got short, the smiles got wide,

Then we saw the destruction ahead

And rushed back to the safer side.

Now you're coming to that time, too;

Your friends are looking just like mine

Before we danced the whole night through.

Be careful when you go that way;

I didn't have a sister then

With lots of good advice to say.

I'll help you do your hair and dress,

But tell me you'll stay with your friends,

'Cause, trust me, boys are just a mess. 

When you date, Sister, I will cry.

Please wait at least until I marry,

But better yet after I die.