Poetry Rhymes Sometimes
by Robert Lewis Heron
“Writing a book of poetry is like dropping a rose petal
down the Grand Canyon and
waiting for the echo.”
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.
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.
“Your Country Needs YOU.”
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.