Made in the USA

I checked my shirts, my pants, my dress
For something that’s made in the good old US
I found China and India and Bangladesh
But I am the only thing made here, I guess

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God Bless America

I sit and wonder what it is we lack
Why can we not just take our country back?
When all is said and done, will we be free
Americans? If not, who will we be?

The image of our land has now been stained
Our nation stands devided and defamed.
It seems there is no remedy, no bliss
More potent than our passion to resist.

So much uncertainty has come to pass
Each day we ponder, could it be the last?
While every day we strive to understand
If our demise is part of some grand plan.

Be fruitful and go multiply they’d say
Instead, we only add and take away.

 

Limitations

A Musing

Deliver something beautiful
Just give it one last try
An effort worthy of your time
As well as my reply

All I Wanted

There is no poet here today
no soul, no words, no rhyme.

I fear the poet’s gone away
to return perhaps in time.

For all I ever wanted
was to leave behind a trail.

Some proof that I had been here
For my children to unveil.

A legacy for them to find
one day when Mom is on their mind.

Summer Light

Great Escape

She’s found a place where she can hide
And when she’s scared she crawls inside
In there, she can escape reality
She goes there often on her own
To think or cry or be alone
Where no one can malign her misery.

She tried to hide within the room
But seekers flocked to fix her gloom
They’d find her under table, desk or shelf
And so she chose the only place
Where no one can invade her space
When she’s afraid she hides inside herself.

A curious light show

        

Retirement?

Retirement’s a someday goal
residing in our dreams
But doing nothing, as a whole
Is not all that it seems.

The wealthy live to travel ’round
the world, in stately manner
For them the oysters are abound
while the world is our banana!

Contained

Containers are meant to hold
The milk, until it’s gone
Once empty (and without regret)
We toss it and move on.
And so it is I wish to leave
Not wrapped in stately silk
Why preserve and forever grieve
A container without the milk?