My feelings about the Election... set down in verse

This morning I felt compelled to express my feelings. I know that I won't be that popular with some people, but at least I'm not afraid to say how I really feel, and how many of the people I know feel as well. I hope you enjoy this.

The Morning After

I watched the polls and realized I threw my vote away.

It's not that I didn't want HIM, it's just that I didn't want all who'd come with HIM.
All the talking heads with axes to grind who somehow think because the color of their skin is the same as HIS, it gives them rights. Jesse, Al, Oprah... you know who you are...

While I know they rejoice who cheered HIM on, and hope for winds of change, I can't help but wonder what lurks behind the smile of a man who'd sit at the feet of a pastor full of hate for 20 years?

In resignation I lift HIM in prayer. I know that God places our leaders there. I pray for HIS protection, and that of HIS family. With heartfelt fear, I pray HE'LL be MY president too. And I pray the most HIS office won't be used to beat the same old drum which points the finger at me who never owned a slave.

What will it be like to put our faith in HIM? All I know is it has to be better than what has been. The old guard has been relieved and given their mission to move out of the way for change. Thank you very much, do not pass GO, do not collect $200, and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out! (And thank God you're leaving!)

I look forward to winds of change myself, and only pray they won't topple our world with their fury.

© 2008 Michael Hunter
November 5, 2008

Robert Graves... Another Favorite

This is Robert Graves. I think he's a very interesting poet because of his habit of writing from his pain, and the things he feared. Robert Graves is also famous for his love poetry, and his tribute to his muse - the White Goddess.

As far as this guy's morals go? Hmmm... not so impressed. His first wife agreed with him to invite a woman to come live with them to be an intellectual/artistic stimulus to him, and a womanly friend, and one to help with the children for her. Does anyone else see a potential problem with this? Well, soon he and the invitee became lovers and moved away from his wife and four children. So... see what I mean?

He was reported as having been killed in the first World War, but obviously lived through it. He spent many years dealing with shell shock and post traumatic stress syndrome, and some of his darkest poetry is about the things he saw while serving in the trenches. He was only a heart beat away from the war at any given time, and he used this pain and fear to generate some of his best work.

The poem I am going to share with you today is light, and it's a message to poets. It's called "A Pinch Of Salt."

A Pinch of Salt

When a dream is born in you
With a sudden clamorous pain,
When you know the dream is true
And lovely, with no flaw nor stain,
O then, be careful, or with sudden clutch
You'll hurt the delicate thing you prize so much.

Dreams are like a bird that mocks,
Flirting the feathers of his tail.
When you seize at the salt-box,
Over the hedge you'll see him sail.
Old birds are neither caught with salt nor chaff:
They watch you from the apple bough and laugh.

Poet, never chase the dream.
Laugh yourself, and turn away.
Mask your hunger; let it seem
Small matter if he come or stay;
But when he nestles in your hand at last,
Close up your fingers tight and hold him fast.

Robert Graves

I like it... good advice!

One of the many reason I love Robert W. Service

One of my favorite poets is Robert W. Service. I have to admit that I discovered him through Tom Bodett's stories about a fictional place called, "The End of the Road" in Alaska. One of the characters in his writing loved to read Service.

I really like to read this man's poetry because of it's rhythm. You have to be on your toes to catch it at times, but when you do, his verse comes alive. Many an evening has been spent dreaming about Alaska, the Gold Rush, the bush, and the wide open spaces with Robert Service's book open on my lap.

His poetry is generally very structured, and rarely takes a free form, but it's wonderful, and I love it. I recently bought my first volume and I've read and re-read it several times. I was online and came across a wonderful site that has all of his poems on it. I found the following poem today, and being a believer in Jesus Christ, I was really touched by the story he tells in this poem. I'm grateful for the site, you can access it here: http://www.poemhunter.com/robert-w-service/ enjoy!

Now, I bring you "A Rusty Nail" by Robert W. Service:

A Rusty Nail

I ran a nail into my hand,
The wound was hard to heal;
So bitter was the pain to stand
I thought how it would feel,
To have spikes thrust through hands and feet,
Impaled by hammer beat.

Then hoisted on a cross of oak
Against the sullen sky,
With all about the jeering follk
Who joyed to see me die;
Die hardly in insensate heat,
With bleeding hands and feet.

Yet was it not that day of Fate,
Of cruelty insane,
Climaxing centuries of hate
That woke our souls to pain!
And are we not the living seed
Of those who did the deed!

Of course, with thankful heart I know
We are not fiends as then;
And in a thousand years or so
We may be gentle men.
But it has cost a poisoned hand,
And pain beyond a cry,
To make me strangely understand
A Cross against the sky.

Ahhh... fulfilled? Satisfied? I am!

A Space Dedicated to Writing Of All Kinds

I plan to make this site completely dedicated to all things writing... poetry, fiction, non-fiction, opinions, ideas, anything. It's my hope that it'll actually grow to mean something to someone besides me!

Welcome to what I know...

Ellipses