Na/GloPoWriMo #18: "I Began My Life..."
by Michael Doyle
Grabbing this pony by the bridle
Chapters do not really need a title
That seems wisest, he quietly said
And yet that's not the task, replied his head
So alright, as it is, I will yield
Taking my hint from David Copperfield
"I began my life on my own account..."
This is a good one, I wonder what it's about
"...And I don't like it", kicked in the end
It feels like a clever, too familiar friend
Perhaps, I'll borrow this, said a doubting I
And shut my mind before it could offer reply
Like poor David, I've wondered what they think
While casually sipping on an impotent drink
What might it be that they think of me
And all of my vain attempts at poetry?
Tremendous phrases rendered for the sake of nobility
And yet such meager musings in their simplicity
Lost in a collection of attempts at rational thought
That manage to fall on deaf ears, instead of those sought
(c) April 18, 2021 Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved
“Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out going to the mountains is going home; that wilderness is a necessity.” – John Muir
“False is the idea of utility that sacrifices a thousand real advantages for one imaginary or trifling inconvenience; that would take fire from men because it burns, and water because one may drown in it; that has no remedy for evils except destruction. The laws that forbid the carrying of arms are laws of such a nature. They disarm only those who are neither inclined nor determined to commit crimes. Can it be supposed that those who have the courage to violate the most sacred laws of humanity, the most important of the code, will respect the less important and arbitrary ones, which can be violated with ease and impunity, and which, if strictly obeyed, would put an end to personal liberty…and subject innocent persons to all the vexations that the guilty alone ought to suffer? Such laws make things worse for the assaulted and better for the assailants; they serve rather to encourage than to prevent homicides, for an unarmed man may be attacked with greater confidence than an armed man.” – Cesare Beccaria
Na/GloPoWriMo #17: Your Turn To Peek by Michael Doyle
A silver face Shrouded in thinnest veil Shines of love's embrace In the greatest detail Lines traces across Scars whispering of loss Yet, hopeful of fantasy Like star-crossed lunacy Playing hide and seek Until it's your turn to peek The day's sun falls down Once again, you wear your crown
(c) April 17, 2021 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“Kings or parliaments could not give the rights essential to happiness… We claim them from a higher source — from the King of kings, and Lord of all the earth. They are not annexed to us by parchments and seals. They are created in us by the decrees of Providence, which establish the laws of our nature. They are born with us; exist with us; and cannot be taken from us by any human power, without taking our lives.” – John Dickinson (1732-1808)
“I think he has been wrong on nearly every major foreign policy and national security issue over the past four decades.” – Robert Gates on Joe Biden’s track record
Maybe it seems insistent To be so persistent In finding time an illusion While we all seek our absolution Our veins beg for transfusion Cued as it were by life's confusion
Despite being a fancy dancer And at moments, a romancer We all succumb to this cancer Begging to find the necromancer Who can let us speak to our dead Even if, only, in our heads
What if we could stand astride of time And payphones still only cost at dime Life was still as easy as a rhyme And talk was as cheap as an unpunished crime Our mothers might still wipe the grime Off our dirty faces, at least one more time
Instead, here we are, as we are yearly Playing verbal cards perhaps too clearly As we sound out what is in our hearts and minds What would we give if only we might find That fate was merciful, however, short it is consigned
What I utter isn't meant to cause alarm But rather instead to quietly disarm It's all that is left when life has lost all charm Just memories of long forgotten farms And the wishes made in the days of future's past That those we loved or love, find the savior last Staring at tombstones of remembered sorrow And wishing it was them who saw tomorrow For in all of my life, what have I done But chase dreams and follow the sun?
And they, they have something to live for Never knowing what it was but somehow more I should have studied, then I could have found the cure Isn't it quaint, how these agonized thoughts endure How these endure without good and sufficient reason Madly uncalculated thoughts of inner treason Does that feeling matter or bring any good? Alone in my silence, I sing sweetly of sorrow I'll rise again to greet each new tomorrow Life after all has proven up all of its confusion As I hold tight to time being the worst illusion
(c) April 16, 2021 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“Freedom of religion means the right of the individual to choose and to adhere to whichever religious beliefs he may prefer, to join with others in religious associations to express these beliefs, and to incur no civil disabilities because of his choice.” – Joseph L. Blau (1909-1986)
“No pecuniary consideration is more urgent, than the regular redemption and discharge of the public debt: on none can delay be more injurious, or an economy of time more valuable.” – George Washington (1793)
Na/GloPoWriMo #15: In A Family's Way by Michael Doyle
I really need to buy an easy chair If I am to keep the family flair Eating summer sausage on cheesed square Reading news and pontificating without a care
That is if I am to live my days In my Dad's version of our family's ways To an extent, I do keep to these As I watch my days floating on their breeze
Then there's the beauty of fine art Lines drawn always finding room in my heart Accompanied with a crash of rock-n-roll During each evening's wooded stroll
That is if I mean to live my days In my Mom's version of our family ways To an extent, I am owned by these As I hear my mother's voice wafting on the breeze
Taken though to a deeper sense of course I find myself in need of a riding horse Filled with spirit and free flowing pride As if my life's best friend were still by my side
That is if I am to live my days In my big sister's loving ways To an extent, I keep to this When my tears fall for whom I miss most
All of these and more have left their voices Giving me so many habits and considered choices Each of them blended into the me that is had Mostly happy though sometimes lonely and sad
Here it is that I remain to live my days Cherishing as I do each version of family ways To an extent, I belong to all of these As my days float on as they do on this spring breeze
(c) April 15, 2021 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
Heading out of Australia to escape this Aussie winter. First stop Japan, then UK/Ireland and if work doesn't call me back, onto Chicago. I will make it up as I go along
