Poetry,
It is a part of me
Deep in the heart of me.
It is the art in me.
I fumble words and stumble verbs
to write down
what sounds good to me
It is good to see
a stanza that works well
verbally.
In and out of me,
to the soul of me
my words rhyme
constantly.

And I’m stuck.

Tato Laviera speaks of his Rican roots
With his lower case boots,
and his AmeRican flutes,
“Que corta”
he talks of a country that can’t find its origin.
For he is home again,
He is free again,
His pen wants to tell me again,
that I am not American, but
AmeRican

Ahora en Englais
A theme
Hughes with his hues of black colored shoes
walks circles around the me’s and the you’s
and the who’s
‘cause he can see New York too.
And Harlem hears an English B anthem.
He likes to eat. He likes to sleep.
He likes to love and read.
He likes the same things as you and me,
‘cept he don’t know what it’s like to be free.




Like the bullets whizzing fast through
the hopes of the past,
Dulce et Decorum Est
Where an English man wrote
a patriotic anecdote,
Dulce et Decorum Est
Owen dragged through the mud,
our little patriots through their blood,
Dulce et Decorum Est
When the flags we wave
bring home the brave
and the broken bodies of those who say
“ Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.”
You tell me how sweet it is to be naïve.







 
Copyright © mcwoodglue, All Rights Reserved