Wednesday, May 31, 2017

The Children in the Closet

by Jim Rapp

The host invited me to see his new "toy,"
duly kept in a gun safe tucked away
in a secret place; not left leaning in a run-
of-the-mill glass-doored gun display.

To see the prized possession we had to
walk through a family/recreation room.
To my pleasure I saw two youngsters who,
busy with toys, were "lost" their refugium.

"Who are these?" I quizzed my host,
who seemed to little notice them.
The girl was barely nine, I'd guess, at most,
the boy, six. They glanced, but not again.

"They came with the place," my host replied,
"They appear at times, take out the toys
and play until of dolls and cars they've tired,
then put away the toys of girls and boys."

"Do they live here?" I asked in amazement.
"In the closet," he explained and pointed.
They glanced but continued their enjoyment;
my host proceeded to the guns, undaunted.

An hour later my host pointed to the place
in which the children were at play.
No dolls or cars were littering the space,
and no children on the carpet lay.

"When will they come again?" I asked.
"One week, or two. They're capricious;
I'll see them suddenly when at some task.
They'll play an hour or two then leave us."

It was a selling point, he indicated;
a reason why he bought the place,
a reason the former owner vacated,
who was scared by Elvin faces.

"Do you know their names?" I asked.
"They are very shy," he said; "they seldom speak,
but even though they try, their names to mask,
"Kylie," and, "Aidan," they whisper on the sneak.

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Buttermilk Sky

by Jim Rapp

Is there a sky
less beautiful
than any other?

Is one child
less comely
than another?

Does anything
want for beauty?

The eye of the
creates beauty.

Some find
cloudy days;

H. C.  turned
one into song:
"Ole Buttermilk Sky"

Saturday, May 20, 2017

A Word From the Fearful to the Trusting

by Jim Rapp
(Haiku Form)

Questions from adam anthropos
            to the inarticulate

Robins, heads bobbing
above the tall grass, seeking
grubs; do you not fear?

Squirrels, are you not
aware as you frisk and tear
paths from tree to tree?

Clouds, nonchalant and
unconcerned, are you mindless
of perils below?

Lilies, committing
your young to a distressed world,
are you not fearful?

Forests, why are you
bearing spring leaves; to mask a
world gone awry?

Sun, you surely are
incensed when dark returns each
time you turn your back?

A warning from adam anthropos.

Robins and squirrels,
clouds, lilies, forests and sun;
all give heed to this:

The world is hostile.
Your indifference will not
guard – will not save you.

All creation is
under attack, you and all
the things you value.

Mankind, your ordained
protector, has been beguiled
by the enemy,

no one is left to
stand for you save a remnant
without strength or hope.

And still you stand dumb,
day after day, as though no
threat of danger looms.

A word from the Maker

Adam Anthropos,
There are lessons that robins
at work can teach you;

Lessons the lilies,
pushing their way through stubborn
sod, want to show you;

Lessons the sun on
its faithful, assured rounds can
illustrate for you.

Robins and squirrels,
clouds, lilies, forests and sun
all give heed to this:

"Take no thought for the
morrow; for the morrow is
in the Maker's hands."

Friday, May 12, 2017

Bits of Wisdom

by Jim Rapp

"Life is so uncertain,"
He said.
"It certainly is,"
She replied.

"There is a lot to be said,"
He said,
"For saying nothing."
"Indeed," she smiled.

"Keep your chin up,"
He said.
"Yes, but watch your step,"
She cautioned.

"Much smoke, no fire,"
He concluded.
"Where there's smoke there is fire,"
She countered.

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Is There any Straw?

by Jim Rapp

Is there any straw that can break the elephant's back;
a misdeed that will wipe the tolerant smile from Pence's lips,
a lewdness so crass it turns a Falwell's or a Robertson's gut,
a lawlessness evil enough to elicit Mitch McConnell's rebuke,
a menace sufficient to drive Paul Ryan to a principled stand,
humiliation severe enough to lure Mitt Romney from exile?

Can any truth penetrate the darkness that is Donald Trump?

Is there any straw that can break the elephant's back? 

Sunday, May 7, 2017

The Eldila Are Back

by Jim Rapp

With no sun-facing windows
I've been bereft
of eldilas – rainbow shadows –
splashing right and left.

But my new third-floor abode
catches sunbeams
in my tear-shaped crystal globe
emitting a stream

of dancing reminders that
I'm not alone;
that my room is in fact
an eldil zone.

Goodness is all around
all the time;
it often makes no sound
rings no chime,

but God hangs his prisms
so that they
reveal His omnipresence
in a way

a seeking heart can know;
by splitting light
into a dozen rainbows
His crystallites

remind us, day by day,
from start to end,
When one or two have come to pray,
His love attends.

Monday, May 1, 2017

A Bouquet For the Winter-weary

by Jim Rapp

May is our reward
for patient endurance of
windy winter cold.

Thinking  picnics and
baseball not gift enough, it
brings a bouquet too.