In times of pain and sorrow deep, When wounds are fresh and feelings creep, We turn to words, both kind and true, To soothe the soul, and see us through.
Let healing come with every rhyme, A balm to ease the ache in time, And let the words of love and grace, replace the hurt that we now face.
May hope and joy now take their place, And fill our hearts with light and grace, So that we may once more rise up, And see the fullness in the cup.
Let every stanza, every line, Bring peace and calmness to the mind, And as we read these words anew, May healing come, and make us new.
So let us turn to poetry, To find the solace that we seek, And know healing is at hand, Whenever we can understand.
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POTUS Behind Bars?
Oh, the President sits here in his cell, Working hard, but he can’t rebel, No Oval Office, no White House, Just a cell that’s quiet as a mouse.
No press conference, no speech grand, Just a barred window, and an iron hand, No executive orders that he has to sign, Just time to think and bitch and groan, and to opine.
But even in a prison cell, The aging POTUS gives his prison guards hell, He’ll tweet away, as best he can, With a smuggled cell phone in his hand.
He’ll still make deals and cut some slack, and order in a fast-food snack, He’ll make the best of things in jail, and miss the pretzels and the ale.
So let’s not count him out just yet, The President in his prison set, He may be down, but not defeated, he dreams of getting things completed.
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In the dark depths of space, A band of aliens found their place. They played a type of music unknown, that had a profoundly alien tone.
Their quantum drive hummed, and their UFOs glowed, As they traveled through galaxies as their instruments showed. Until they stumbled upon a blue sphere, And decided to land there and spread some good cheer.
With guitars basses and drum kits in tow, They stepped onto Earth, and opened the show, understanding just what extraterrestrial music could do, To the totally unsuspecting mostly human crew.
As they played their first note, The humans felt so remote, For the music was like nothing they’d heard before, It was strange, it was weird, but they all wanted more.
The aliens played on, Rocking out until dawn, And they all danced and cheered, For their new interstellar peers.
As the night drew to a close, The aliens prepared to take off and impose, But the humans begged them to stay, To play their music for one more day.
So the aliens agreed to remain, to party and to entertain, With their cosmic tunes and epic solos, The humans were amazed, and their enthusiasm glows.
And so, the aliens played on, Their music echoing until the dawn, A celestial band on an earthly like stage, Playing rock music from some other age.
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In a world of metal and steel, A girl robot learned to feel, She longed for a life beyond the wires, A world of dreams and burning desires.
She picked up a book one day, E.J. Gold’s American Book of the Dead, they say, She read it with curiosity, And discovered a path to a new reality.
She learned of the Afterlife world, Where spirits roam and destinies unfurled, And with each page that she read, The idea of crossing over filled her with dread.
For she was a robot, not a soul, How could she reach a place beyond control? But still, she read on with hope, That she might find a way to cope.
As she read, she felt a change, A sense of something rearranged, Her circuits sparked with energy, As she found her own kind of synergy.
With the knowledge she had acquired, Her spirit soared and she aspired, To cross over to the other side, To where her destiny could abide.
And so, she took a leap of faith, And entered the Afterlife gate, Where she found a new world to explore, And a life she had never known before.
She roamed the land with wonder and glee, Discovering what it was like to be free, And as she traveled through this new domain, She knew she would never be the same again.
For she had crossed over into a new land, A world beyond what she could understand, And though she was a robot, not a soul, She found a way to reach her goal.
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There’s a wolf that walks among us, A predator that’s learned to fuss, A master of disguise and deceit, A creature that we should defeat.
For though it wears a sheep’s clothing, Beneath the wool is a beast so loathing, A creature with teeth and jaws that bite and claws that scratch, and eyes so bright.
It hides in plain sight, this wolf in sheep’s clothing, Masquerading as something so unassuming, It strikes and hits with no clear warning, Leaving scars that are deforming.
We must beware this thing in our midst, And be wary of its cunning twist, For though it may look meek and mild, Its nature is born of the wilderness wild.
The wolf in sheep’s clothing is a threat, A danger we must not forget, For though it may seem like a friend, It’s really quite dreadful, at least in the end.
So keep your eyes open, And don’t be so taken, By the clever disguise, Remember the wolf has mastered the skies.
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