Monday, September 19, 2016

Hands in Pockets, Making Fists

by Jim Rapp

The old man announced his retirement today;
said his mind wasn’t sharp like it once was.
It’s true, he struggles in a lot of ways,
but hey, everyone over seventy-five does.

It just hurt to watch him lay it down;
what is one to say at a time like this?
We mostly just stood, milling around,
embarrassed, hands in pockets making fists.

But no one said, “You’re wrong about that.”
No one said, “We all sure wish you’d stay.”
I suppose the thing we really wanted was what
everyone was thinking but no one would say.


Wednesday, September 14, 2016

A Tree With No Worries, But Many Friends

(Haiku form)
by Jim Rapp

The knobby monster
covered root to crown with warts,
size of a man’s gut,

Hosting green clusters
of moss, and golden mushroom twarts,
sized for Fairie boats,

Gives no thought to what
alien organic strains
brought him to this pass,

Thankful – worried not –
willingly sharing his gains
with friends he’s amassed.


Sunday, September 11, 2016

The Deplorables

(Haiku form)
By Jim Rapp

all deplorable,
not one, not one is righteous,
all sinned and came short

the bloody-eyed mob,
deplorables all, heard his:
“forgive them, Father”

deplorable grace,
unforgivable mercy,
shameful redemption

broke all the rules, stood
justice on end dying for
the deplorables


Monday, September 5, 2016

How Soon We Forget – A Labor Day Lament

by Jim Rapp

Eighty years ago Labor stood tall
aided by New Deal laws that
insisted that laborers rights should
be protected and honored.

A mere seventy-five years later all
those rights crumbled. At
the insistence of the Koch’s hoods,
workers rights were Scott Walkered.


Thursday, September 1, 2016

September

by Jim Rapp

September is April inverted.
A kingdom that dazzled in Springtime,
its members exiled, converted
to lissomely frazzled malingering vines.