Poetry Rhymes

Sometimes

Poetry Rhymes Sometimes

by Robert Lewis Heron

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“Writing a book of poetry is like dropping a rose petal

down the Grand Canyon and

waiting for the echo.”

Don Marquis.

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Copyright © 2015 by Robert Lewis Heron. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Amy & Tim’s Wedding
- 6th June, 2015 -

Amy and Tim got hitched today
The reception a wondrous, surreal ballet
Of jugglers, face painting and dressed up dogs
A man on stilts having strange dialogues

Tea and champagne the perfect libations
A wondrous English-French combination
Tiered cakes, sandwiches, and Gin macaroons
Eaten with gusto to Forties tunes

A wedding cake shaped like the Eiffel tower
Made of profiteroles for us to devour
And friends and family laughed with glee
As ancient music enhanced this jamboree

The kids had games and storytelling too
And sweets and sodas and not one boohoo
Guess the animals on the wedding dress
A fox, a dove, a wee beastie from Loch Ness

And a fire eater eating blazing bites
We danced to swing music well into the night
But wait, for there is more to eat
With burgers and ice cream, Bon Appetit.

 

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The Mall

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Weed encumbered Malls corralled within

half-asphalted half-concreted parking lots

where bygone Indian encampments stood

and buffalo grazed on waist high golden grasses

and gurgling streams meandered exuding contentment.

 

A place once held sacred now a gully washed modernity

strewn with rusting rebar foliage

and flowering NASCAR stickers and white plastic bags

all decaying back to drifting dust.

All inconspicuous to cellphone heterotrophic organisms

paying homage to today’s great Amazonian God

of ‘ask and you shall receive’.

Pay homage through PayPal

and all shall be well.  Amen.

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We

 “Your Country Needs YOU.”

Lord Kitchener.

 

Hebden Bridge awakens to war.

Turned into a minefield of mud, tears, and misery

as *Hughes crows sweep over desolation, destruction, despair.

Miniscule raindrop bombs blast this once Happy Valley.

Incessant incendiary droplets in guttural trench warfare fall from

black airship clouds and attack from Moorish drainage ditches to mutilate.

We protect the grouse and self-mutilate the town.

Slashing, cutting, kicking, and gouging our homeland through careless talk.

We have allowed destruction by ignoring commonsense.

We have allowed destruction by ignorance.

We have allowed destruction.

We have.

We.

 

 

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