Site Photo by Tom Bush IV

POETRY

     I don't write a whole lot of poetry- in fact it's probably only once or twice a year. I suppose whenever I do, it must be because I'm really feeling moved. They seem to materialize as some sort of homage. I don't have it published or really even gathered anywhere other than here. I'd say I'm more into songs. Still, what the hell? Here are a couple, and if I ever come up with another decent one I'll pin it to the top of this collection. I think they're best when read out loud using good rhythm. Thanks.

-OBC

The Eagles of Death Metal

(for victims of mass shootings)


the sun comes up in Paris
unstoppable the dawn

the streets and the asylum hall
sing does the siren on


the midnight howl of sacred now
all captive in the black

a golden door, an empty floor
a straw upon the back


the virgin girl with every curl
forgotten as the land

the pistol chef, the dumb and deaf
raised up from the sand


fast the eyes upon the specter
run from all it does

bow the king unto the jester
what is and never was

Thanksgiving

(for refugees)

Thankfulness as it belonged
Was sung about when buried
Herald was it ever strong
Knowing all it carried

Thankfulness sat on a rock
and dove into the sea
Never once had it been caught
By enemies of free

Thankfulness made not of fear
And knowing only brave
Once shed a salted lover's tear
The helpless for to save

Thankfulness was found today
Alone up in a room
Worn all from the long decay
Gone from the world too soon

Thankfulness in robed clad
A hero in its day
Remembered not for what it had
But what it gave away