Through the Door of Words
Through The Door Of Words
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As The Grass Withers
Each day and night make me aware
Of the brevity of life and why I'm here.
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The sun sets in tranquil, surrendered silence
Majestic in its beauty and magnificence,
As the moon ushers in the ebony gray,
Unfolding the repose of a departing short day,
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When I was in grade school
I had a strict teacher in English.
She said grammar is a very good tool
To write well, this we must polish.
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Brute animals rage with anger
Violence to them is natural.
They kill for food or when in danger,
For mate or rights territorial.
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Shades of Silence maybe unfeeling gray,
Or muted white with no words to say,
Cowering beige or blindfolded pink,
Subdued in denial, unable to think.
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Poetry is a group of words with soul,
Woven in rhyme or free verse, there to say
Some feeling, sense or meaning as a whole
Not random words laid out in disarray.
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A thousand dolphins slaughtered today,
And this is Environment Day.
A thousand cows were killed somewhere -
Too much Carbon Emission to spare.
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There was a young man named Giovani
Who lived in the land of Italy,
His cute wife could not cook
Though he bought her a book,
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Sometimes we get to read behind
The lines of people's actions.
We sense the discord and we find
Why events end up in confusion.
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