Poem of the Week: 1/1/21

One Sheet Only

One sheet only,
one sheet only,
where I rest my head.

One sheet only,
one sheet only,
to grace my bed.

Three sheets are the price I pay,
three sheets to the wind.

Drowning in my sorrows,
and all my tomorrows,
hoping it will end.

One sheet only,
one sheet only,
until you return.

One sheet only,
still so lonely,
awaiting you, I yearn.

rwh 12/31/20

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Poem of the Week: 12/25/20

Police Don't Catch Me

Wherever I am,
in this great land,
I drive slow with care,
thinking of you,
and holding your hand.

Police don't catch me.
Police don't catch me.
Police don't catch me.
Don't catch me, I fear.

I want to stay here.
I want to stay here.
I want to stay here.
From the bottom of my heart.

I want to prosper, too.
I want to prosper for you.
I want to prosper for her, too.
From the bottom of my heart.

I have celebrated with Corona,
at the cantina down the road.
Police don't catch me.
For I have carefully slowed.

I am a bit inebriated,
from thinking of her, I fear.
But I hope to have her with me,
this time next year.

And if you catch me.
And if you catch me.
Don't tell them please,
the Homeland Security.

For they will dump me.
For they will dump me.
South of the Great Wall,
into abject poverty, and,
still a thousand miles, from she.

Repeat, Police don't catch me.

rwh 12/24/20

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Poem of the Week: 12/18/20

Good Cheer

find! Be of good cheer,
this time of year.
For you never know when,
your fortune will turn.

You may be so cold.
You may be so hungry.
You may be pushed out,
into the street ugly.

Wherever you roam,
there's not any home,
only hatred and no retreat.

But keep a smile on your face,
treat others with good grace,
and someone will come to your rescue.

For we are all in this race,
stamp out the pandemic trace,
and give everyone the freedom to live.

Shelter, warmth, clean water and food.
A living wage for the common good.
Work for our pay and pay for our work.

So seek out your brother under the weather.
Raise him up and gather together.
For it could be ye behind that door,
so knock and free the devil once more.

Hallelujah, I shout!

It's time for good cheer.
Gather round and figure it out,
or the opposite may be near.

rwh 12/17/20

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Poem of the Week: 12/11/20

Thrilling

That thrill is gone,
when you're over the hill,
or so BB King wailed,
but I remember it still.

Times that it broke,
ran off the track,
hit me so hard,
didn't know my front,
from my back.

Times in the air,
not knowing exactly,
where I would land.
But somehow arriving all right,
just as though it were planned.

When she smiled at me,
or even just showed her face.
Times we touched,
or we embraced.

Exchanging those feelings,
only two can exchange.
Thrilling us up and down,
the entire thrill range.

Times on the dance floor,
when I held her so close.
Music and beat enclosing us,
in a package so neat.

We were one with the universe,
one with the stars.
We could have just as well,
been on Jupiter or Mars.

There was no pain, just the thrill.
Everyone had their Blueberry Hill.
So, the thrilling years are still not gone
when I see your face in the morning,
it still turns me on.

rwh 12/10/20

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Poem of the Week: 12/3/20

Pestilence

Pestilence has been here,
Pestilence's reason is clear,
since the beginning of time.
as its reason is rhyme.
Without pestilence life,
would be filled with mistakes.
Genetic flaws of imperfection,
all that flaws and disease takes.
Designed to take the weakest down,
pestilence reigns throughout life's realm.
Pestilence grows in the lowest of beings,
pestilence thrives without emotions, feelings

Life ever stronger when it meets its match,
waiting for a new threat to eventually, hatch.
Pestilence grows in the vilest of pits.
Pestilence hides in the darkest of waters,
dankest of caves and vilest of pig wallows,
foulest of fowl and dirtiest of bat feces,
cesspool of existence and no resistance.

Pestilence waits at life's gates,
until we let its violence come in.

And then, we scramble and run,
pray and sin, all to avoid getting,
what may eventually, win.

rwh 12/4/20

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Poem of the Week: 11/27/20

It's All Right

In every life troubles may come,
and every aging person faces strife.
When the night comes crashing down,
find a smile to lighten your life.

For we are so fortunate,
to read this poem.
For so many out there,
even reading is unknown.

So many are born,
into agony and fear.
So many with no choice,
and won't be here next year.

Live life while you can,
with love and with lust.
So many of us lose,
those that we trust.

When the reaper comes,
on your darkest of days,
rejoice and be happy,
for goodness your life displays.

rwh 11/26/20

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Poem of the Week: 11/20/20

Chill Comin'

I can feel it comin' in the night,
oh yeah, the winter chill.
I can feel it comin' in the night,
oh yeah, the winter chill.

For it there ain't no pill,
no winter pill, oh no.
When it comes creeping in the dark,
like water trickling downhill, downhill.

I tried to escape you going south,
but those were just words,
loose words from my mouth.

I thought I saw you comin', yeah,
I thought I knew what you did.
But I was mistaken badly,
when you crept into my bed, instead.

Under covers with the draft,
you tickled my tenders,
with that awful, cold laugh.

Although I thought I knew what you did,
Winter, you betrayed autumn instead.

So I seek the warmth of the sun in the mornin' ,
cuz the chill keeps on comin' without any warnin'.

I saw what you did,
and know what you do.
Winter,
oh winter,
lookin' out for you.

rwh 11/19/20

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Poem of the Week: 11/13/20

Remembering Purple Rain

Wiped the frost from the window pane,
saw your blue-eyed blondeness coming,
through the late fall Minnesota rain.

Behind you was a scarlet oak,
its color enhanced by the rain,
I couldn't help thinking of those nights.
We danced till dawn to that refrain.

Uptown we went to that club,
and partied like it was 1999.
Prince and his girls were so good,
erotic city wasn't far behind.

Delirious, we went crazy,
pink cashmere and black sweat.
If I wasn' t your girlfriend by then,
I want to be your lover, yet.

You wore that raspberry beret,
riding down to old man Johnson's farm,
the most beautiful girl in the world,
proudly linked to my arm.

Your daddy gave you,
that little red Corvette.
But he could not tame you,
do I still have you yet?

I could never take that place,
why you want to treat me so bad?
Nothing is worse than when doves cry,
makes me want to be your lover, sad.

Soon will come crystal winter,
but I see you now in my purple pain.
Are you coming to tell me you're leaving,
leaving me out here in the purple rain?

Purple rain, purple rain. Purple rain, purple rain.
Out here crying in the purple rain?

rwh 11/12/20

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Poem of the Week: 11/6/20

Major Head Drama

He called on all the forces,
and all the king's men.
To put together the state's pieces,
the way they had begin.

But though they clashed,
gnashed their teeth and,
girded their loins so fine,
didn't know ass from behind.

Middle ground was easiest,
but hardest one to take,
MacArthur Park was melting,
someone made a big mistake.

They banged their heads,
against the invisible wall,
but it refused to fall,
would not budge at all.

So after all the fiddling,
and all the faithful call,
there was no real trauma,
actually, none at all.

rwh 11/5/20

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Poem of the Week: 10/30/20

Running Scared

Have you ever been scared?
Sweat scarred back bared?
Hunted down by the Laird.
Run, or you'll be snared!

But the night is dark and dim.
You can still run from him.
Not because yesterday's whim,
turned him with a ghoulish spin.

Where will you go in the night?
Will anyone share in your plight?
No, you are now on your own.
Far from here you must roam.

Go now before it is too late.
Go out in the dark to your fate.
He awaits in the shadows somewhere.
So the shadows you must beware.

Run until you see the sun.
Let it warm you until the day is done.
Run another night or two,
until your nights of running are through.

Winter is coming very soon.
You must find a safe,
warm room.
Or you will surely freeze,
by the cold light of the moon.

rwh 10/29/20

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Poem of the Week: 10/23/20

Horrifying

As I kicked off from the pool bottom,
buddy's heel hit me in the back of the neck7
Like a snake, I slithered through the water,
over the poolside with, "What the heck?"

I stood at the top of the cliff,
assessing deep water below,
when someone pushed me,
from behind as I turned and fell.

Scraping my chest on the edge,
as my outstretched arms caught my fall,
but not before my heart in my throat,
scared me like none before.

Saw the flash of the van pull out,
and hit the brakes so very hard,
she squatted down and her rear came up,
sliding to the left sideways, dealt a bad card.

"Don't catch, don't catch!" Was in my mind,
when she caught and we rolled, time after time.
"Stupid!" thought I with my arm hugging the roof.
Tasted grass as she pressed over me just fine.

My knee stitched up and my hot rod torn apart,
we all made it home slightly injured that night.
I thought her leaving me after was very bad,
I had no idea what really would be my plight.

I woke up on the operating table,
from that pool four years in the past.
my neurosurgeon looked me in the eyes,
"Are you all right?" He asked.

Bright light haloing his worried face,
I replied, "I'm okay, Doc. I'm fine!"
The light faded out and I awoke,
with no feeling of what was mine.

For 20 days and 20 nights,
every time I closed my eyes,
I fell backward into nothingness,
large red circles rolling over me,
with thoughts of my demise.

Closing on the truck to pass,
the wooden gate fell off,
followed by many ears of field corn,
roller bearings in my mind.

On shale on the mountainside,
I started to slide down off a cliff.
Struggling to keep from the inevitable,
my friend threw me a rope lift.

At the top of the stairs,
my heel caught the metal strip,
I teetered with great anguish,
luckily, didn't take that fatal trip.

Having to go so badly, rushed,
I pulled the split toilet seat up,
my feet slipped out behind me, fell,
hard, my jaw jammed tight in the gap.

Arms useless, minutes I struggled,
thankful I didn't break my neck,
with all my strength lunged up and right,
to floor alongside, an exhausted wreck.

When the rock hit the windshield,
my reaction was too easy and quick,
I pulled my steering hard to the right,
my van complied into the thick.

Straight ahead was a solid green wall,
at 60 mph death became very real.
My life did not flash before my eyes,
"We're dead!" Was my actual appeal.

Most of these without injury or death,
but they sure were a lot of scary fun,
I'm sure you had your own in life,
more real than any scary dream's run.

rwh 10/22/20

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Poem of the Week: 10/17/20

Chasing Tail

Internet threads sometimes,
keep going round and round,
like a dog chasing its tail.

No matter how much,
one explains and such,
sometimes to no avail.

There are persistent trolls,
at the keyboard controls,
blowing hot air in the sail.

Wasting my time,
and my dime, when I'd,
rather be consuming a,
more feminine regale.

Hitting the head on the nail.

rwh 10/16/20

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Poem of the Week: 10/9/20

Great White Hunter

I own this country.
because I can.
I'm free to roam.
command the land.

All creatures are.
in my domain.
Within my power.
to tame and maim.

My gun makes me.
the one in charge.
If I am small and weak.
it makes me large.

With power and money.
you'll see me smiling broadly.
As I gloat over my conquest.
gaining another trophy.

rwh 10/8/20

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Poem of the Week: 10/1/20

Coincidence

Have you ever wondered,
why you got the luck of the draw?
Just when you needed it,
the stars lined up in awe?

When you were in desperate straits,
on a highway straight to hell,
when a stranger happened by,
glad to help and make things well.

Have you ever been with nowhere to turn,
your expenses far exceeding what you earn,
and then by some miracle of fate,
miracle money arrives 'for it's too late.

Life is fickle and sometimes it's unfair,
but you never know where kindness is,
if you never reach out, just out there,
where others may help a lot if you just ask.

Pride may keep you from what you need.
Ask for help. We all hurt. We all bleed.
For even when we are in the darkest places,
light may peek out from under four aces.

Keep the dirty side down and the sunny side up,
and something may save that dirty old truck.
It's seen better days, with worse to come,
given tender care, it will stay in the run.

rwh 10/2/20

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Poem of the Week: 9/25/20

Fire!

Summer months are hot and dry,
there is a pall upon the sky,
all wished for quench of thirst,
renewal from whence new life burst.

But all was naught as thoughts desired,
most plants on verge of funeral pyred,
and though there was a loud retort,
it was only thunder, a flash report.

A marvel to those who watched,
power of gods mighty thrust.
To light the sky in such a rush,
to split the clouds from rain burst.

But nature is a fickle one,
instead of rain, cleft the blue,
one tree burst fire, and then two,
wind lifted fiery embers, too.

Whipped by the wind, small fires grew,
into a conflagration of extreme renew,
where all dead plants expired to ash,
start again from smoldering acrid trash.

Racing wildly through its fuel,
waiting patiently for rain renewal.
Jumping wildly from tree to tree,
overrunning all creatures there be.

Scent of smoke pierces the air,
burning eyes tell of be aware,
must escape at the quickest route,
no time to think, others recruit.

Beneath flaming canopy running for lives,
only the birds are the one who flies.
Rest of the animals relying on their feet,
some scurrying to burrows beneath the heat.

Screams cannot be heard above the roar,
as the wall of flame consumes all before.
Incinerating lifetimes of growth and decay,
in an instant of hellfire without delay.

For the lucky ones that escape and return,
new appreciation for what they have, they earn.
But for good fortune do they luckily survive,
when so many from before no longer thrive.

So green was my forest even times of drought,
now only barren devastation the gods wrought.

rwh 9/24/20

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Poem of the Week: 9/18/20

Right or Left

It makes no difference what side you're on,
extremists sing the same old song.
Hide their prejudices with collective lies,
that reveal those prejudices in disguise.

To say one is conservative is to hoard,
hold onto wealth ill obtained across-the-board.
Do not share at all with the sodden masses,
give them too much and they will still clash us.

We are Christian with God on our side,
no way to mix with those on a free ride.
We go to the church of wealth and power,
sweep away the homeless from our bower.

Why don't they pull themselves up like we did?
Work hard and save to invest in what needed?
Taxes are for wage working beer drinking bums,
they need to have all kinds of tax breaks, chums.

We conserve by buying luxury and flaunting it well.
Pay our staff minimum wages to avoid tax hell.
Want everyone born because they are God's will,
but we have no obligation to help them, not one shill.

To say one is liberal, is to give it all away.
Tax the rich to give to the poor, not the Christian way.
The liberal are too free with their lifestyle these days,
flaunting biblical no-nos before our very eyes.

They are full of tattoos, piercings and such,
ride big motorcycles with muscles stretched.
Sidearms conveniently threatening at their side.
Free to run rampant clearing a path wide.

Liberals are talking revolution in the streets,
fomenting violence to take away our treats.
They're all communist and wanting to take our things,
ruin the economy with the hatred it brings.

Liberals are tree hugging environmental fools,
they can't live off the land without our tech tools.
They warn us of scientifically proven disaster,
but we are only concerned with our dynasty hereafter.

The big lie is hidden in the words liberty and free.
Both sides of the coin claim it is for me, me, me.
But the truth is freedom to hurt others is not right,
so we must fight for the middle with all our might.

For liberty is not exclusively left or right to the core,
without some constraints on what is too much more.
What we must share with our kindred worldwide,
for the good life to go on and everyone abide.

rwh 9/17/20

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Poem of the Week: 9/11/20

Thousand Eyes

Our vision has been multiplied,
by at least a thousand eyes.
Cell phones working everywhere,
drones conquering skies.

With much more acuity,
and capabilities galore,
our eyes could not before,
change their point of view.

While there are still deceptions,
that this capability portends,
so far we can't discern it,
for the most part, it depends.

We have always been deceived,
by eyewitness accounts,
our brain interprets our vision,
and all of its ins and outs.

A storyteller tells a tale,
our brain fills its vision out.
The vision may be true or not,
a lot remains in doubt.

When the story is complete,
filled out with sight and sound.
we can't tell whether it is real or not,
through experience we have found.

From a lifetime of seeing things,
and storing them away.
To compare with any new vision,
that may be coming our way.

Like DNA genome sequencing,
our vision is immensely enhanced.
We now can discern much more,
than we did relying on happenstance.

We now have a vision of the universe,
that we never could see before.
The more we understand each other,
the better we can go fore once more.

rwh 9/10/20

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Poem of the Week: 9/4/20

Labor

How many still labor by the sweat of brow?
Fewer each year chasing that sacred cow.

Riches without effort in a mental race,
giving over our labor to the lesser placed.

For labor has become unclean to the masses,
strongly dividing upper and lower classes.

Much easier to sit in an air-conditioned room,
parroting idiot step-by-step computer games,
than lesser tasks, like sweeping with a broom.

College and a shirt of bleached white hue,
replacing work worn grimy grease blue.

No hot sun on the neck or dust in the air,
just clickety clack of keys and hard-sell fare.

Muscles get flabby and gaining weight,
must go to the gym, worry about what ate.

How many speak of the labor of love?
Sweat in the strain of cooing like a dove?

Getting a few sweet words down on paper?
Trying to think up some new romantic caper?

How many of her lovely would admire you,
out working on crops before the dawn?

No, poets and romantics are a lazy lot.
Lay back and dream while labor they not.

rwh 9/3/20

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Poem of the Week: 8/28/20

Oh Louisiana!

Laura has come and Laura has gone,
in the night, they left in a throng,
how many stayed back is still unknown,
but she freaked those who stayed,
with her shrieking, howling song.

For those who do not know what it's like,
to have your whole world coming apart,
your household flying, ripping and groaning,
in the pitch dark, tearing at your heart.

It goes on forever, like it will never end,
waiting for the dawn and the wind to subside.
Hoping you'll be alive to see it come,
hoping you won't lose those by your side.

And then it is calm and Laura has left,
a trail of destruction of biblical scale,
leaving perhaps behind Katrina's toll,
death and destruction, too, pale.

While many humans escaped with their lives,
the wildlife of Louisiana had no escape,
leaving alligators with a feast to engorge,
they died by the millions from Laura's rape.

The fickle fate of the weather,
can only be studied and charted,
we can't control it anymore than,
who will live or be departed.

There are but good fortune,
have we missed a bullet again.
But what will happen next time,
the who, where and when?

rwh 8/27/20

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Poem of the Week: 8/22/20

Out of Sight's Mind

Out of sight, out of mind,
keep the ugly out behind,
sweep it nicely under the rug,
smile and give preferred a hug.

Dilution is the easy solution,
for all of our ugly waste,
cast it higher and further,
to some other place.

Or abandon it altogether,
when low hanging fruit is all picked,
disappearing into the city's money,
leaving the countryside totally tricked.

For prosperity is a two-edge sword,
one cuts the finest and takes it home,
while leaving the place of former riches,
savagely stripped bare to the bone.

We can no longer sweep transgression,
under centuries of filthy decrepit rug,
we must find a way to make amends,
no longer only shirk, smile or shrug.

For things should no longer be,
"the way they have always been."
Injustice has always been injustice,
the time to change has come.

A time to give up childish trivial things,
do the right thing for our only earth,
for how can we reach for the stars,
if we spoil our nest, our place of birth.

rwh 8/20/20

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Poem of the Week: 8/15/20

Heroism

What is a hero?
May I ask?
Depends upon the beholder,
a bewildering task.

A dream in the sky,
of some mighty mysterious force?
A god of mind molding making,
charting everyone's futile course?

A family of good and bad gods,
both mighty and fluttery small?
with their own territories protecting,
they can't protect them all.

A conqueror of lands and people,
from a bloodthirsty, overpowering quest.
Declaring his people better,
enslaving all the rest.

One who goes up against,
the conqueror of lands?
fighting to the very death,
even with bare hands.

A speaker on the podium,
of the global village square?
Declaring peoples' unequal rights,
seemingly unfair to ruling heights.

One who kills of sworn duty,
to a particular, popular cause?
Or one who saves lives,
of sworn duty without pause?

One whose image is magnified,
on television or in movies' fame?
Or one who quietly pursues,
good deeds without a name.

Characters who exhibit superhuman,
traits in epic mono to mono fight?
Or those who save babies' lives,
in quiet, remote places out of sight.

It is up to you, the beholder,
to pick your heroes with care.
Is it the mighty or the humble,
you put on a pedestal up there?

rwh 8/13/20

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Poem of the Week: 8/8/20

In the Gloaming

In the gloaming cusp when day blends into night,
some people dread night's coming with fright.
A primal fear that when night is creeping near,
ghosts, goblins, other evil creatures will appear.

They feel it in the eerie haunting sounds,
hooting, fluttering, squeaking, sneaking by,
expecting great danger lurking in shadows,
behind every tree, rock and cloaking sky.

Prefer to be walking with my love hand in hand.
Sitting close to the edge of a precipice's stand.
Or alone with thoughts of a love so long lost,
remembering joy, laughter, sorrow and cost.

As the light dims to faint in the far distance,
fireflies and stars twinkle on in forest and sky.
Owls, doves, crickets, frogs and cicadas call,
their mating love songs they live and die by.

Reminders that the gloaming is a time of change,
when the day creatures in safe haven go to sleep,
when the night creatures wake up to live their lives,
both have their purpose when their time arrives.

When we relax in the coolness of the coming night.
Understand those calls, eyes adjusting to the light.
We can hear and see so much more without fright.
Especially at gloaming crux between day and night.

rwh 8/6/20

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Poem of the Week: 8/1/20

Vexing

While I've been flexing.
an image so vexing.
creeps up the back of my mind.

Faint itch I can't scratch.
a lock I can't unlatch.
to treasure I cannot find.

Ghost mosquito that buzzes.
while the worn pillow fuzzes.
draws blood from my behind.

Virus so dangerously perplexing.
as mysterious as government taxing.
unequally treats us unkind.

If I live til I die.
I will never know why.
life puts me in such a bind.

So. when life throws you bad.
the worst you've ever had.
remember to still be kind.

rwh 7/30/20

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Poem of the Week: 7/25/20

Relaxation

Time to cool off, relax and take my time,
let my spasming muscles unwind.

So many things now impossible to do,
I must come up with alternatives to.

There is no easy path to paralysis loss,
or aging for that matter, regardless of cost.

Only thing left is a comfortable position,
finding relaxation in finding transition.

To a new way of carrying on life's run,
trying to make obstacles into fun.

A task that is never ending it seems,
sometimes even entering nightly dreams.

But soldiering on is what I do well,
head above water with every incoming swell.

A task I've been given for nearly all my life,
a challenge to overcome frustration and strife.

I will just relax in the sun for a while,
my frustration flowing off shoulders with a smile.

I'll skip the half full glass of lemonade this time,
maybe put it in a poem next time to rhyme.

rwh 7/23/20

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Poem of the Week: 7/18/20

When Galaxies Collide

I'll be there, close by your side,
when the Milky Way and Andromeda collide.

For while we may be cast asunder,
we'll never forget the magnificent wonder,
with minds entwined in a loving bind,
we rode it like lightning through the thunder.

For life was meant to survive,
above all else because we are alive.

Because we first decided to fly,
and very soon after, even left the sky.

It wasn't because some God or gods willed it,
our intelligence told us we could go ahead and do it.

We were not gods, for we were so mortal.
We had a long way to learn how not to chortle.

When the great obstacles of distance and time,
continued to make not reason or rhyme,
but we persisted to chip away at the edge,
until into new galaxies, we leapt from the ledge.

So many eons since then have passed,
we have died in so many calamities in the past.

This one is just part of our living whole,
we will get through it, no matter the toll.

Live or die, I'll be right there by your side.
Live or die, I can abide.

In for the long haul; and what a ride!

rwh 7/16/20

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Poem of the Week: 7/11/20

Breathtaking

When morning sun crests the mountain,
or cuts through the dark dismal mist.
Our eyes open when a fever breaks,
wondering what we have missed.

When a fawn steps timidly out,
into a sunlit flower filled glade.
A crow in the high treetop,
warns of any danger's blade.

When a bird of many colors,
hovers right before our eyes.
Rain clouds rapidly dissipate,
revealing rainbow blue skies.

When the waves come crashing,
from some distant far-off shore.
We walk with our love at our side,
never will we wish for more.

When the crystalline ice of winter,
turns the land into sparkling glass.
Long-awaited daffodil of spring,
breaks through the snow at last.

When a newborn child cries,
unsettled when arriving on earth.
We gasp at many wonders,
that every day gives birth.

rwh 7/9/20

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Poem of the Week: 7/4/20

Bull Shipping

Have you been accused,
of shipping the bull?
Haps don't even know,
the head from the hull?

The art of good shipping,
requires following through.
The louder the retort,
earthshaking the view.

Blowing a gaping hole,
in the other guy's sail.
Him twisting in the wind,
lanyards in a gale.

For bovines are known,
for their flatulent ways.
Outbursts of pestilence,
lasting many, many days.

Worst of all is when,
the captain of the ship,
slips on a slimy pie,
and lets one rip.

With his cover blown,
and his motives clear,
the captain of shipping,
will be gone next year.

rwh 7/2/20

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Poem of the Week: 6/20/20

Martin

Can you see Martin on the mountaintop?
Can you see him standing tall for justice there?
Brother Martin, you've reached the mountaintop,
you dreamed of--the top of the monumental hill.
I will surely try to join you there, with all my will.
With all my heart and with all my will.

I know it will be a long hard way gettin' there,
but I will surely try and try.
There is no downside to justice.
So, I will do or die. Do or die.

I'll join you on that mountaintop someday,
when all the brothers come to meet.
Join you on that mountaintop someday,
we won't ever accept defeat.

Marching for Justice

We are marching for justice,
we are marching for justice,
and know it's very far.

But we are on the long road,
and have come so very far.
Still have a ways to go,
but we know who we are.

We know that we are bound for glory,
we know that we will get there soon.
The obstacles are falling down,
the promised land closer than the moon.

Marching for justice,
marching in your name.
Will get there very soon,
what we're asking for is no game.

rwh 6/19/20

Dedicated to Uriah J. Fields
Civil Rights Pioneer and Chronicler

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Poem of the Week: 6/20/20

Wage Slaves

Workin' hourly for the almighty dollar,
you might as well be a company man,
beholden to the company's store,
for every dime earned down in the holler.

Those high-paying factory jobs,
fought for and won so long ago,
are disappearing like benefits,
companies on a profits roll.

Seeking overseas for their labor,
low and high skilled to be done.
Overseas, more profits to be won.

Robots replacing routine work,
webpages taking away the clerk.
AI is coming along strong,
singing that same old song.

Outsourcing and downsizing,
retraining ain't doing so well,
organizations without people,
now won't that be swell?

Work hard for the almighty dollar,
if you absolutely must.
Taking two jobs to make it,
but who can you trust?

Until everyone is guaranteed,
the right to a living wage,
hourly workers forced into poverty,
will, eventually, rise up in rage.

rwh 6/18/20

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Poem of the Week: 6/13/20

O' Daddy

O' Daddy, O' Daddy.
Why are we on the run?
What is it Daddy?
What is it that we have done?
O' Baby, O' Baby.
I so wish you still could have fun.
But we must flee. Must run.
It is nothing, we have done.

O' Daddy, O' Daddy.
I' m thirsty, my throat is dry.
Some soda pop or lemonade?
My throat is sore, I want to cry.

O' Baby, O' Baby.
There's a stream up ahead,
I'm sure it's there if we try,
we must get water soon,
or we will all surely die.

O' Daddy, O' Daddy.
I'm so hungry and so weak.
Carry me. Carry me.
We been walking for a week.

O' Baby, O' Baby.
I cannot carry you my dear,
with this burden on my back.
Only things we have left,
all that we could quickly pack.

O' Daddy, O' Daddy.
I'm so tired, I can't go on.
I'm so cold and wet in the rain.
Why do we have to walk all night?
Why do I have to have this pain?

O' Baby, O' Baby.
Please don't die on me.
Your mother's gone.
Gone, but we must go on.
Please don' t die on me,
Baby, we must go on.

rwh 6/11/20

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Poem of the Week: 6/6/20

Wounded Earth

My skin is badly scarred,
my atmosphere is so thin,
my inhabitants are having a party,
but haven't included me in.

They've taken me for granted,
used me any which way they wish.
I'm one great big experiment,
in every discovery petri dish.

They are creating wonders,
leaving less food for forage.
My little creations are ignored,
peas in the greedy porridge.

They've taken low hanging fruit,
for riches, ignoring the cost.
They move forward, unknowing,
just what they have lost.

I'm overheating badly,
and losing all my ice.
But some can't even see it,
through ignorant, narrow eyes.

They may hurt me very badly,
but in the end, I will win.
Simply destroying themselves,
and then, I will start over again.

rwh 5/31/20

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Poem of the Week: 5/30/20

Fatal Flaw

Love is our fatal flaw
sticks in our craw
whether benign or raw.

Fatal flaw, fatal flaw,
there oughta be a law,
against love like that, a law.

In innocence we love them all,
especially the fuzzy, furry ones.
Or when we heard our mother call,
fearless, we loved them all.

Fatal flaw, fatal flaw,
there oughta be a law,
against love like that, a law.

But then, we were betrayed,
love was not returned, or delayed.
We looked for answers, but found none,
our faith in love, over and done.

Fatal flaw, fatal flaw,
there oughta be a law,
against love like that, a law.
But hope springs eternal.
We hoped for the wished gift.
Often tried and failed again,
love's heart was fatally rift.

Fatal flaw, fatal flaw,
there oughta be a law,
against love like that, a law.

rwh 5/28/20

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Poem of the Week: 5/23/20

Pests

No, not the human kind,
just all the freakin rest.

Rats and roaches,
that infiltrate and,
put us to the test.

Fruit flies and mosquitoes,
weevils, ants, spiders and germs.

Cleanliness is godliness,
must kill all those verms.

Weeds, aphids, termites, snakes,
and their unsightly evil lot.

All little things making our,
grass not green or rot.

Eradicate them all, for,
we know not what we've got.

We know not that these,
creatures of our mother earth.

Have given us all other life,
some good, some bad,
but all needed for the very,
wonderful source of our birth.

Let's praise them not to kill them,
and give them their berth,
their kingdom is our kingdom,
our beautiful, wonderful earth.

rwh 5/21/20

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Poem of the Week: 5/16/20

Underpinning Life

Organic molecules abound on the earth,
formed in seething savagery's birth,
volcanic explosion or lightning burst.

Clinging to them are bacterial growth,
along with opposing virus that prune,
life from becoming malignant ruin.

Algae and fungus spread in abundance,
in the primordial soup life expands,
creating plants and small creatures,
throughout the myriad niches of lands.

Grasses and broadleaf burst into view,
flower and as quickly as they came are gone,
dispersing seeds for the next season to renew.

Insects and worms feed off the debris,
green growth, pollen and the nectar of flowers,
the fruit of the dead into essential food.

Birds and reptiles feast on insects,
that swarm by the millions at just the right time,
when nesting and egg laying is at its prime.

Predators and gatherers feed on the feast,
the banquet of mother nature's bounty,
a plethora of plenty, the ecosystem yeast.

A hierarchy of animals that covers the earth,
with new and more unique life mutating all the time,
such a great abundance of diverse worth.

Only humans can understand it all,
understand our part in it, make it greater,
make biodiversity grow, or make it fall.

For our DNA roots us to the very beginning,
through mutation and extinction, unraveling before.
We are rapidly understanding our place once more.

We have it in our power to live, prosper and thrive.
We have it in our power to save what we love.
Give up our destructive ways for what is good.

I know that I am willing and hope you would.

rwh 5/14/20

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Poem of the Week: 5/8/20

Demise of Dominion

Religion and order has been God's great plan,
given to humans to control and demand.

Given to humans to use as they wish,
to play with like a child's fickle food dish.

Knowledge that we've gathered shows us the way,
we used it for power and wealth, not the light of day.

For knowledge is a two-edged sword,
for good or for evil in its own accord.

Jesus, in his wisdom, threw the moneychangers out,
but the moneychangers still rule, there is no doubt.

Little things are of no consequence to grand greed,
build a better mousetrap turning want into need.

Civilizations built on grand ideas of the favored few,
building colossal monuments for all to view.

But power begets power and corruption emerges,
most civilizations die from their evil incestreal urges.

Humans have conquered the planet and more,
our population grows as we happily keep score.

But the small things are dying or going extinct.
Underpinnings of life edge closer to the brink.

Like Nero we fiddle while the world begins to burn,
with no sense to end it, we just continue to earn.

Credit for accomplishment without taking great care,
leave it to the next generationÉ Just put it there.

Or leave it to God's great plan for us all,
our excuse when we can't make a decent call.

It's time we grow up and face up to our intelligence,
use it instead of stupid excuses for our negligence.

rwh 5/6/20

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Poem of the Week: 5/2/20

Urge

Admit it. We all get the urge.
It comes about gradually,
or in a mighty surge.

An impulse to act,
upon the sight of delight.
An impulse to act,
anytime, day or night.

Society strictly controls,
most of these urges.
With sanctions and taboos,
preventing emerges.

Resulting in urges going,
deep underground.
And then, appearing in websites,
where they still can be found.

The powerful and prophet,
have decreed what is moral.
Creating rules to their liking,
leaving others to sorrow.

Eliciting much emotion over,
what is really not bad.
Creating false mores,
that are really quite sad.

We must free our minds,
of this curbed urges strife.
Freedom to act for good,
rather than ruined life.

rwh 3/30/20

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Poem of the Week: 4/25/20

Real Treat

We look to nature for a free real treat,
always providing something so sweet.
We look to nature for a surprise to be found,
never know what new will come around.

Like the morning sun in springtime,
warms the winter cold ground.
Like the sweet rain in midsummer,
that follows the thunder' s sound.

When the warm moist seed germinates,
and pierces the surface reaching for sun.
From this fragile beginning a plant grows,
a cornucopia of seeds when its life's run.

Songbirds return from their winter retreat.
Calling out to mates, with sweet tweet.
Time to make a nest and raise a family.
Time to have no rest until fledglings fly.

In the glade, a spotted faun appears,
its mother, attentive, close behind.
Grazing in the sunlight, a real delight,
whole world stops this moment to find.

Up in the clouds, the bald eagle soars,
lying flat on the grass, the mind wanders.
Poet and dreamer's thoughts float on,
from clouds to birds the mind meanders.

RWH: 4/23/20

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Poem of the Week: 4/16/20

Simply Nothings

I can hear the pitter patter of the reign of my defeat.
Crowds no longer gather for victory at the stink of defeet.

For somewhere over the rainbow the bluebird of happiness flies.
Think I'll go out on the deck for a while; sun while the skin fries.

It's a dangerous world we live in with no cars upon the street.
Lose much more from computer scams and fungus among us feet.

Obediently line up for everything while the world comes to a crash.
We should be going hysterically crazy; something much more rash.

If you pick your feet in Poughkeepsie you're in for a real tasty treat.
Just thinking of all the people in the world with nothing left to eat.

King and queen went out to dine, and only the queen came back.
He was wiped clean from the world with one magnificent hack.

If you can make any sense from this poem for what it's worth,
rack your brain and pound the keys for a new creation's mirth.

rwh 4/18/20

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Poem of the Week: 4/11/20

Rides

Remember those days when it was so cool,
to ride with your friends to school in a pool.
When only a few lucky working guys had cars.
When owning a car made ordinary guys stars.

When the open road beckoned on a hot summer's day,
and you couldn't wait to get out there just to get away.
When you had the window down, blowing in your face,
sun beating down on your right arm's window place.

Little fan on the dash was the only air conditioning.
Heater was inadequate on a cold, winter beating.
Radio ran down the six volt battery so quick,
you could just push the car in gear to start in a nick.

Tires were blowing out or always going flat,
so changing tires was simply where it was at.
Gasoline costs were so little in those days,
your bucks in your pocket went a long ways.

Driving on ice was always scary fun,
sometimes being helpless just let it run.
Digging out was something everyone did.
If you had a shovel in the trunk nicely hid.

With the open road ahead and little care in the world,
nothing better than driving with your girl, your arm enfold.
Rock 'n' roll playing on the AM radio wavelengths loud,
finding place to pull over with a view away from the crowd.

rwh 4/9/20

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Poem of the Week: 4/4/20

Mask

To mask or not to mask?
That is the question.

The question on everyone's mind,
lemmings not wanting to be left behind.

To go incognito like a pen name poet,
to do the evil deed, and no one know it.

To hide behind the mask of personal deceit.
You hide behind the truth of personal defeat.

We all wear masks of personality,
we call them roles we play in reality.

But the masks used in providing health,
are an entirely different form of wealth.

But does wearing them even matter?

Only the test of time will tell,
and we ring the "all clear," bell.

rwh 4/2/20

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Poem of the Week: 3/28/20

Nursery Rhymes for Our Times

Stay-at-home, stay-at-home,
do not go out; do not roam.
The wolf waits outside the door,
do not touch the ones you adore.

The King tells us everything is all right,
promising to calm an awful fright.
But we know the King has no clothes,
beware knowing what the King knows.

Eee-aye, Eee-aye, Ohh,
where did all the money go?
Down some great big black hole,
climbing back out to our goal.

All the King's stooges,
and all the King's men,
couldn't put a flimsy wall,
wind fell down, back up again.

Scream and shout, scream and shout.
Try to keep the little boogers out.
Yell to high heaven, we still will fall,
as they still crawl through the wall.

Pattycake, pattycake,
only elbowsÉ Please!
Skip to your right, your right,
out of your playmate's breeze.

rwh 3/26/20

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close document Poem of the Week: 3/21/20

Contagion

Contagion is raging and nobody knows.
Where it comes from and where it goes.
Contagion appears out of the blue,
contagion loves to attack both me and you.

"Don't worry, in summer, away it goes."
testThe king announces without any clothes.
You can't stop contagion from doing its work,
anyone who believes this may just be a jerk.

Contagion runs through quickly killing the weak.
Struggling to save them, medicine on the brink.
Slowing contagion's progress seems a great plan,
quarantining wrecks economic havoc on the land.

Of course, letting contagion run does the same,
but of shorter duration in the natural culling game.
Where predators like contagion take the weak,
ensuring that the gene pool maintains its peak.

For when the strongest truly survive,
everyone in the population benefits alive.
Medicine works hard to keep the weak from dying,
suffering may tell you they are better off going.

It's a hard thing for many to lose family members,
but we all die anyway, if cremated, become just embers.
The survivors of contagion are stronger for its passing,
whole world moves forward into the future everlasting.

rwh 3/19/20

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Poem of the Week: 3/14/20

Panic

Have you heard?
Have you heard?
"The sky is falling,"
quoth the nerd.

The herd instinct,
it is alive and well.
Brings no blessings,
just a living hell.

Believe in a rumor,
rather than the fact.
Follow your buddy,
don't know how to act.

Over protect your loved ones,
rather than the general good.
Greedily hoard resources,
in your defined neighborhood.

Reject all government guidelines,
your friends are experts all.
To do crass things is your right,
let all the others fall.

Perhaps we should stop and think,
when we hear a rumor spread.
What is the source of this panic?
Should we break the thread?

rwh 3/13/20

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Poem of the Week: 3/7/20

Moments

There are moments that shape our lives,
some are planned, but most aren't devised.
Like when we begin to walk and talk,
without our memory these moments rise.

All the firsts that we will undergo,
some burned in memory,
some lost in memory's fading glow.

First time we fell in love.
First kiss from heaven above.
First child held in our arms.
First marriage with all its charms.

First illness that laid us low.
First accident from hence,
came we did not know.

First love lost through better fault.
First low grade in school taught.
First time mightily put down,
ego met with tears and a frown.

When we lost a close loved one.
Lost our job we depended on.
Countless ways that we can lose,
pick from many that you can choose.

That first paycheck was oh so sweet.
To win a prize is a wonderful treat.
Some win throughout their lives.
Some lose and lose, are despised.

These are the moments,
that shape our lives.
Give us character,
determine who survives.

There but for a good fortune,
go you or go I.
Do not belittle the less fortunate,
when you don't know why.

rwh 3/5/20

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Poem of the Week: 2/29/20

Apologies

My apologies to all,
for writing so rash,
for talking trash,
thrashing your opinions,
as though they were a rash.

For flying off the handle,
without any facts.
For being so impulsive,
following your tracks.

I'm not a troll or stalker,
but with my Dragon for Mac,
now a speedy Internet talker.

If you think I'm following you too close,
don't be worried or morose,
I'm following everyone that way.
For only a couple of hours each day.

And if you think I'm revealing,
too much of myself unheeding,
don't fret about it because,
I don't worry about those,
who troll with great stealth.

So let's all have fun,
and enjoy the run.

For the future mistakes I will make,
I apologize now in their wake.

So you will see me around,
until this light of mine runs down.
Energizer Bunny I am not,
but I'm recalling this shit,
now freely before I rot.

Or become ashes,
blown in the wind.

rwh 2/27/20

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Poem of the Week: 2/20/20

Corona

(With apologies to Chuck Berry)

Corona, Corona, why can't you be true?
Why can't they let you do what you do?
The way they do it on to you?

Why do we have to be two-faced?
Saving all the immune weak few?

Why do we consider human life the best?
saving all the unnecessary rest.
Why don't they let you do what you do?

Why can't you be selective,
and take out the worst?

Pop the bubble of pestilence,
so full of great angst and thirst?

Corona, Corona, we are counting on you,
do us a great favor, with what you do.

Do us a great favor, but don't take the best.
Take the sick, the aged, and leave the rest.

rwh 2/22/20

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Poem of the Week: 2/15/20

Love Is Also

Love is not for the sick of heart,
but it can be a place to start.
Where loving oneself, first,
will sate that unquenchable thirst.

Love is for the confident and bold,
strong love will never grow old.
It rests in the heart with grace,
and gives a loving embrace.

Love is not a captive thing,
tied up in a marriage ring.
Where controlled by cruel hand,
love like that can never stand.

Love is more than a passionate feel,
runs much deeper where it can heal.
Carries one well beyond the flame,
a place where there never is blame.

Love is not what romancer's write,
so trivial, superficial and trite.
It is a steadfast helpful friend,
that carries one far beyond trend.

Love is available for all who seek,
so don't be shy or way too meek.
Or love will easily pass you by,
just get on the love train and try.

rwh 2/13/20

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Poem of the Week: 2/8/20

Shine

Put a spit shine on it,
for all that it is worth.
Wear that leather gleaming,
a countenance revealing.

Spotlight piercing the darkest cave,
reflecting upon the water deep.
Reveal in your light's reprieve,
shine off water calcium's seep.

Open wide your bright eyes,
and reveal your gleaming teeth.
Let your broad bright smile shine,
to fear's unwelcome big relief.

Off the water rippling in the dark,
the pale moon's marvelous light.
Giving peace and tranquility,
to a warm, wonderful beautiful night.

Crossing the desert's endless expanse,
with dehydration's mind in a trance.
Distant shine of a mirror offers a chance,
but it's only a mirage of happenstance.

Let your countenance brightly glow,
what everyone really should know,
that when we leave pining behind,
is when we finally can begin to shine.

rwh 2/6/20

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Poem of the Week: 2/1/20

Enamored

We live our lives in celebrity,
as though we knew them well.
Following their every move,
some void in us they fill.

They are heroes or villains,
because of the roles they play.
We think we know them very well,
read everything the tabloids say.

Must be bored with our own lives,
to be so celebrity intensely bound.
Caught up in every joyful moment,
torn up when tragedy comes around.

We go to candlelight vigils,
we pray to make things better.
We spend a lot of time harassing them,
our adoration we do not fetter.

Are we no better than paparazzi?.
With our insatiable desire?
Spending our money and time,
on idols that only bring them ire.

For adoration is a two-edged sword,
celebrities need it as their reward.
Statistics that seal their fame,
but pressure that puts us to blame.

rwh 1/30/20

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Poem of the Week: 1/25/20

Fickle Fate

Touched by the fickle finger of fate,
makes one wonder something ate.

That stomach turning arriving late,
only to just miss disaster's gate.

Split-second sound of bullet's wake,
missing by a hair's breadth earthquake.

Sliding on ice toward the edge,
stopping at the precipice ledge.

A vibrant life is suddenly shaken,
learning what cancer has silently taken.

Lightning never strikes same place twice,
becomes a big lie when it strikes thrice.

Heart attack takes a healthy young man,
while another lives to 100 and 10.

For those who tempt fickle fate,
often wake up to find it's too late.

rwh 1/23/20

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Poem of the Week: 1/18/20

See the Light

See the stars twinkle in the night,
warm to see and seemingly bright.
Aligned to help wayfarers on their way,
but not enough light to run and play.

See the full moon pale in the night,
casting long shadows in ghastly light.
Predators hunt with scent on the breeze,
enough for us to wander at ill ease.

See the streetlight pierce the night,
its sodium vapor producing yellow light.
Giving the path below a yellow cast,
an artificial brightener unavailable in the past.

See the light under the door in the night,
someone moving flickering shadow in light.
It could be friendly or foe moving there,
depends on knowing who, what and where.

See the light at the end of the tunnel dark,
a welcome relief from the black so stark.
or when you come out of an endless cave,
it is the sight of light that we all crave.

Someday, we will travel out between the stars,
darkness so profound, like the back side of Mars.
Only artificial light will make our day,
as we seek other planets to light our way.

rwh 1/16/20

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Poem of the Week: 1/11/20

Viewpoint

Out amongst galaxies with myriad stars,
planets evolve like Earth, Jupiter and Mars.
Incomprehensible in our meager knowledge,
gathered together among the human college.

We are only but a pale blue dot,
Carl Sagan pointed out that spot.
We matter not in the whole of things,
our great arguments, but hollow harangues.

The circular nature of our chains of thought,
repeating over and over, until they are wrought.
Becoming hardened in our minds and souls,
thwarting our progress toward positive goals.

Surrender your mind to freewheeling thought,
consider the yea rather than the naught.
For we never know the galaxies' trend.
Like stars, born to live and die, a fitting end.

rwh 1/9/20

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Poem of the Week: 1/4/20

New Year's Fear

There is much to fear,
in the upcoming year,
as we contemplate,
how it will all turn out.

But the sky is not falling,
Rhapsody's trumpets aren't calling,
the angst of the alienated,
is far from being near.

So pick your favorite paranoia,
and unravel your ego's wants,
the greatest fear is our behavior,
and not from the highest mounts.

Amazon, California and Australia,
are burning like never before.
Glaciers are calving all over the world,
it's hard to even keep score.

Nuclear annihilation is still on the board,
and creeps ever higher each year.
No amount of reconciliation and pullbacks,
seems to slow the arms race's fear.

Individuals are arming themselves,
with the very best surveillance and,
all kinds of ways to violently thwart attack.
But, when tragedy comes, all seem to lack.

If I were to pick the fear of the day,
I would throw away political fear right away.
I would think of global warming as the biggest threat,
I would go to war with it with all the help I could get.

So have a Happy New Year and let's all drink up.
Whether your cup is half empty or half full,
there's plenty of fear in our cup of good cheer,
What's real and what's not will push or pull.

Whatever ways the political mind will bend,
the facts of science will always win in the end.

rwh 1/2/20

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