POEMS

Table of Contents


Viral Rap, by C. Trask

Conspiracy Theory, by L. Meeks

Miss Information, by C. Trask

My Nobel Prize, by J. Warley

My Son, My Hero, by M. Capps

Good Timber, by Douglas Mallach

Invictus, by William Ernest Henley

2 a.m., by C. Trask

Viral Rap

I’m not advocating

Or abrogating

Just communicating

cause its fascinating

this ruination

sweeping our nation

a poison potion

from ocean to ocean

it’s a fractionation

never been so large

a five mile barge taken’ charge

there’s a manic panic

make you hide in the attic

gonna lock the door 

cock the gun

sweep the floor

visit no-one

baby’s cryin’

mama’s sighin’

grandpa’s dyin’

and I ain’t buyin’ 

no farm today

gonna find a way

let the children play

like yesterday

so place this bet

it ain’t over yet

take your guitar fret 

and sing a song

come along

it ain’t wrong

have some hope

discard the dope

grab the rope

and climb aboard

a new kind of horde

a chorus and a chord

get out of the hearse 

sing this verse

it might get worse

but there will be a first

a crackle and a pop

make you stop

faster than a cop

look around 

in the city and the town

what’s goin down

a brand new sound

a blood hound

in the lost and found

dig through the dirt

take off your shirt

make it hurt

first a trickle 

then a squirt

a little gash

then a gush

what’s the rush

another er visit

tell it like it is or it isn’t 

tip the table 

turn the tide

yes you’re able

lose the pride

get rid of negativiT

shed the naiviT

look to diviniT

fill the cup with positiviT

use your creativiT

can’t measure infiniT

we can go on and on

never end this song

wouldn’t be wrong

might take too long

less you sing along

we can play ping pong

go back and forth

from the south to the north

take it east to west

it’s all the best

got a brand new nest 

beat your drum and your chest

never take a rest

there’s work to do

enough for me and for you

get out the loo

put on your shoe

find the door

want some more

make you rich if you’re poor

stop the whinin’ 

see the sun is shinin’

it’s a brand new day

so just stop and say

thanks…

C. Trask

Invictus 

By William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my unconquerable soul.

 

In the fell clutch of circumstance

      I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

 

It matters not how strait the gate,

      How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

      I am the captain of my soul.

Conspiracy Theory

 

First time I heard of Rona

Felt the old would not survive

The young could cluster on the beaches,

Feel great and stay alive.

 

Conspiracy I thought for sure.

GenXers would get their due:

I’d be six feet under 

My friends would be there too.

 

Miscalculation GenX did make, of our will to stay

No hint, the sense, we would have, to simply hide away.

We’d wash our hands behind locked door

Eat bread and scraps and nothing more.

 

Alas when finally Covid has done its dastly due

We will have emptied out the cupboard, deep freezer, trashcans, too

But the emptying that will cause the greatest of despair

Is that our portfolios, once fat will now be bare.

 

So imagine then the boat we are in

One world, not two or three

Old folks survived, albeit broke, but intact evermore

Surely this was not the script GenX was looking for…

L. Meeks

Miss Information

 

Miss Information

Such a foxy face

As she spews her pearly whites

Misinformation

her drum does beat

Each and every night

 

To don a mask

Or stay at home

Decisions from above

What’s good today 

Or gone tomorrow

She tells us with such love

 

Could it be 

That I’ve gone mad

Unable to process

The words and wills 

The greater good

I sit in sheer distress

 

Please don’t take my liberty

Don’t arrest me for this rhyme

I’ve shed some tears 

But of all my fears

It’s that I’ve become the crime

 

My name be spewed upon the screen

My face there plastered too

The crime you ask, a simple task

I was caught outside my boat

 

I’ll take the stand, I’ll testify

Your facts I can deny

No contraband nor evidence

No crime occurred that day

The tide does turn

And all can see

The sandbar went away.

 

When will it end

What can I do

My cupboards all are bare

To venture out

They’d scream and shout

Small kids would stop and stare

 

I too was you

Just yesterday

A child with two balloons

A bike I had

A mom and dad

A house and my own bedroom

 

All history now

The world has changed

New rules, they do apply:

Keep your distance

Wear your mask

Could it ever be too much?

What lesson’s learned 

We’ll have to wait and see

Hold hands, but please don’t touch!

C. Trask

My Nobel Prize

 

Those of us in Beaufort town,

Are used to many pests.

But now we’re told we have to add

Corona to the rest.

 

They tell us not to kiss and hug,

To stay six feet apart.

We need to isolate ourselves,

Be sensible and smart.

 

It does no good to bitch and moan,

To curse this awful bane.

Confined at home we search for things

In hopes of staying sane.

 

We read a book, we watch TV

We binge on favorite shows.

Sudoku, crosswords, solitaire

That’s just the way it goes.

 

But days ago I had a thought,

That might be heaven sent.

I need to put this time to use

For mankind’s betterment.

 

From Amazon I’ll get my needs,

A microscope for sure.

Some chemicals, a petri dish,

Test tubes clean and pure.

 

From my neighbor down the street

I’ll get a nasal swab.

I’m sure he’s got the virus

Or his name isn’t Bob.

 

Back at home, I’ll analyze

The world’s new enemy.

Once I know its DNA

I’m practically home free.

 

Like every virus ever known,

Ebola, AIDS and SARS,

It feasts upon a living thing

It wounds and kills and mars.

 

A mom, a dad, a newborn child,

A sister or a brother.

Which means that all I need to do

Is sic it on another.

 

Life in Beaufort is a dream,

A nearly perfect place,

With one exception we know well

A gnat that’s in our face.

 

No-seeums’ plague us every day,

A threat to Beaufort’s dream.

They fly and buzz and sting and bite

And make us want to scream.

 

My last experiment is done,

Results have been confirmed. 

I found a way to make Corona

A deadly, lethal germ.

But not to humans, no not one,

Not people, dogs or cats.

The only thing the virus kills

Are pesky little gnats.

 

A Nobel Prize should come my way,

A mansion and a boat.

I’ll get them all if rules allow

Beaufort folks to vote.

 

J. Warley 

My Son, My Hero

 

In the back of my mind is always a thought

About a boy, now a man, the battle fought

He takes in stride the day to day

As he passes you by nice things he'd say

 

His heart and soul I'm in awe of

My son, my gift from God above

To know him is to love that guy

He's kind and loving without even a try

 

In this life if you're lucky enough

To be blessed with his presence, just great stuff

He'll change your heart to see the beauty in life

Take away any trials and lose any strife

 

He changed me in ways that made me whole

Making me happy with life in my heart and soul

I loved him the minute my eyes did see

That God truly gave this gift to me

 

My child, my son, my hero it's true

God blessed me good when he gave me you

M. Capps

2 a.m.

 

two am

is not my friend

it picks on me 

most every night

 

it won’t let me be

won’t let me get to three

without a struggle 

or a fight

 

i try ignoring it

turn the other cheek

even turned on 

the bedside light

 

i’ll toss and turn

but all i do is yearn

to make it 

through the night

 

let me see six am

now there’s a friend

a true pleasure 

and delight

C. Trask

Good Timber

by Douglas Malloch

The tree that never had to fight
     For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out in the open plain
     And always got its share of rain,
Never became a forest king
     But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man who never had to toil
     To gain and farm his patch of soil,
Who never had to win his share
     Of sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man
     But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow with ease,
     The stronger wind, the stronger trees,
The further sky, the greater length,
     The more the storm, the more the strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snow,
     In trees and men good timbers grow.

Where thickest lies the forest growth
     We find the patriarchs of both.
And they hold counsel with the stars
     Whose broken branches show the scars
Of many winds and much of strife.
     This is the common law of life.

 

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