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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Category Archives: poetry

That Very Special Species

07 Monday Oct 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, nature, poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

hope, poetry

The Ostrich is famous for it. 

And the trio of mythical monkeys. 

But here’s the thing: it’s people, people.

Photo by George Becker on Pexels.com

When ostriches see an enemy close at hand, 

They run or fight.

They don’t stick their head in the sand

(Or somewhere worse). 

When monkeys face danger,

They don’t cover their eyes and ears. 

Their senses find the way to fight for fears.

Stubborn as a mule, they say.

And, true enough, mules can be stubborn

When you try to steer them somewhere they don’t wish to go. 

Photo by Zeynep Sude Emek on Pexels.com

And, then, there are the storied buffalo stampeding 

And the legendary lemmings

Who hurtle off a cliff just because they can. 

But surely, people, people are surely the champs!

(At least when it comes to being chumps!)

Humans pride themselves, 

Indeed, Define themselves

As the smartest critter who ever lived

The wise, 

The sapient, 

The *Special*.

Humans write it into many religions:

“We are special!” 

Photo by Min An on Pexels.com

Indeed, we are special. 

Capable of curing diseases. 

And intentionally spreading diseases. 

That’s special. 

Capable of finding other planets in the universe!

And trashing the one we know is habitable.

That’s special. 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Capable of building America

And trashing it for a poop bag of lies.

That’s special.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

This evening as we walked along the dark and foggy road,

Sadie-dog spotted a boy—about fourteen—

Riding a black bicycle, 

Wearing gray clothes, 

Fog gray, in fact.

No lights.

(AI-generated image. FYI, I specifically said, “no bike light”)

 

To me, this is foolishness. 

But only if, like me, you know: 

In general, people cooperate.

Photo by Rebecca Zaal on Pexels.com

If instead, you imagine most are out to “get you”

Then, you see your invisibility as an aid. 

How many sand traps (and worse) do we ostriches have our heads in?

How many cliffs do we have yet to go over?  

(AI generated image above)

These are some of the most destructive lies: 

(Sound familiar?)

The myth of the self-made man.
The myth that total competition to the death is what is natural. 

The related myth that most people are only out for themselves.

Photo by Stephen Andrews on Pexels.com

The sand is starting to sift.

The tilt begins to shift.

The night grows longer.

The fog grows stronger..

All it takes is to forestall to think. 

All it takes is an ill-timed blink.

Be the light.

————————

Author page on Amazon

The Dance of Billions

The Joy

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Guernica

Me Too!

My Cousin Bobby

The Update Problem

The Stopping Rule

Wednesday

Labelism

You Bet Your Life!

At Least he’s Our Monster.

The Orange Man

Come to the Light Side

The Self-Made Man

Cancer Always Loses in the End

Where does your loyalty lie?

The Mango Mussolini

30 Monday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

life, poem, poetry, politics, truth, USA

The Mango Musso knows a shorter cut!

Just pass it quickly on! Just pass it on! 

The Melon Felon knows a better way!

We need not trek and tote and slog along!

This longish path along the creek’s a pain!

Let’s head instead across the desert’s dunes!

It may look dry; and yet, it’s bound to rain!

He’ll tap his wand; transform to plum dessert!

We know it’s true! It can’t be lies! Oh, no!

Pass it on! He orchestrates the crowd!

He yells it very very very loud!

It must be therefore certainly true of course!

He acts so proud! He screams so loud of hate!

Inhale the toxic fumes of Agitate!

Cannot you see? The hate is clear as day!

He’s out to check and jail and then to slay!

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

And once the drecks, and whacks and nerds are dead,

We just must lie and kill for Master’s sake.

It’s what he said! You see? It’s what he said!

And therefore must be good and new and true!

Photo by Anna Tarazevich on Pexels.com

It’s not my fault I lost my house!

It’s not my fault I lost my spouse!

It’s not my fault I broke my mouse!

It’s not my fault! I need to grouse!

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

It can’t be Greeds who stole my gold!

How could they ever be that cold!

It must be folks from other lands!

Who eat our pets; chew rubber bands!

We’ll let Putin end the strife!

He and Felon are such friends!

They’re oh so smart and never would lie!

And ours is not to question why!

They never have to futz with friends!

“There is no truth; there’s only bends!”

And all is well! He tells us so!

Until—-

Photo by j.mt_photography on Pexels.com

Putin points out that he’s ten inches longer

And naturally that makes him oh so much stronger.

Photo by VisionPic .net on Pexels.com

And then at long last all that money we wasted

On H-bombs—It won’t be wasted any longer!

No. Instead, we’ll all get lambasted!

We get to be cooked like a turkey is basted!

The taste of death is all we tasted!

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The Melon Felon himself once said:

“What good are nukes if we can’t even use them?!

What good are people if I can’t make them dead?

Did I mention I have the world’s smartest head?”

No more migrants! No more pets!

No more people! Everything’s solved!

Civilization at last completely dissolved!

No more jets! No more bets!

(But who could blame you?

All you needed to draw 

Were five sequential spades

And you would have won that hand).

That little hand. Who plays a one man band!

He plays an accordion of the mind.

Makes promises just as solid as sand.

Don’t seek truth! You’ll never find!

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

He wants to choke and each light dim

Who isn’t him or progeny.

He wears religious cloak

And wraps the flag around him.

Photo by Michael Willinger on Pexels.com

Orange you glad now you didn’t face 

The truth about His Felonious Grace?

Just swallow these lies and you will see

The painful end of all humanity!

Original drawing by Pierce Morgan

————

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

My Cousin Bobby

The Update Problem

What about the Butter Dish?

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Truth Train

The First Ring of Empathy

Plans for US; some GRUsome

The Stopping Rule

Try the Truth

The Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar! 

The Three Blind Mice

Stoned Soup

A Profound and Utter Failure

Absolute is not just a Vodka

Author Page on Amazon

Sunday Sonnet: The Joy

29 Sunday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in nature, poetry, psychology

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

life, poem, poetry, truth

I see a romping child, girl or boy;

A racing horse, a bunny hopping free.

In animals, it seems each move paints joy.

When leaves spin dancing—whirling ecstasy. 

My springs are shot, my body rusts, and yet—

My spirit soars with every leap and swirl. 

My heart and mind and soul do not forget

The joy of runs, of walks, of laughing twirl.

Photo by Christina K on Pexels.com

The life of any one of us will end

Yet all around us is the evidence.

The dance of life will ever weave and bend.

Embrace another’s joy? It’s common sense!

Our life’s too short to play it safe and coy

Or limit to your self, the taste of joy!  

————————

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Dance of Billions

The Forest

Comes the Dawn

The Bubble People

Take a Glance; Join the Dance

Ambition

The Tree of Life

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Good Morning!

Ah Wilderness!

You Gave me no Fangs

Wristwatch

The Joy of Juggling

The Most Serious Work

Maybe it Needs a New Starter

Imagine all the People…

The Jewels of November

You Must Remember This

Piano

Author Page on Amazon

Not Long The Daze

27 Friday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in nature, poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

life, poem, poetry, truth

Alive among your many dazzling days.

Before you rush away toward whiz-bang flash,

Accept around you beauty’s bursting blaze.

Because your body’s bones will fall to ash;

Because you’ll have no need for brash and cash;

Consider well your days upon this earth;

Consider filling most with love and mirth.

Decide if you are desolate, alone;

Contrariwise, consider that your birth

Developed yet another side of known. 

—————

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Life Will Find a Way

Guernica

There Never Was a Civil War

The Crows and Me

They Lost the Word for War

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

The Ship of State

Author Page on Amazon

Those Wild Blue Eyes

26 Thursday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in nature, poetry, Walkabout Diaries

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

life, love, nature, photography, poem, poetry, walkabout

Since first I spied those wild blue eyes,

I found this world a happier place;

Saw gratitude and hope as wise; 

Stepped off the endless track of lies.

Since first I spied those wide blue eyes

No longer ran alone my race.

I dance in every day: surprise!

I found the world: A happy place.

———————

The Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Walkabout Diaries: Levels of Beauty

The Walkabout Diaries: Natural Variation

The Walkabout Diaries: Symphony

The Walkabout Diaries: Bee Wise

The Walkabout Diaries: A Now Rose is a New Rose

The Walkabout Diaries: How Beautiful and Green

The Walkabout Diaries: Life Will Find a Way

The Walkabout Diaries: Lest We Forget

The Walkabout Diaries: The Life of the Party

The Walkabout Diaries: Friends

The Walkabout Diaries: Sunset

The Walkabout Diaries: Mind Walk

The Walkabout Diaries: Racism is Absurd

The Walkabout Diaries: A Walk in the Park

The Jewels of November

The Forest

Author Page on Amazon

A Bearded Frog

25 Wednesday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, satire

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Democracy, poem, poetry, politics, truth, USA

Photo by Salih Altuntas on Pexels.com

It’s Jay and Dee and Gree-Viance,

He lies and spies; an ugly dance.

(Yet, only men are granted pants).

He leers and leans and haps to chance:

A Couch he sees and makes advance. 

Alas, the Couch rejects his lance.

He’s horrified! A furtive glance.

As someone groks his deviance. 

Around him, wafts weird, an ambiance— 

As though he cannot stand his stance.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

It’s not surprising, don’t you see?

He always backs His Trumpery.

The Mellon Felon—Treachery

Depends on JD’s flattery,

He never claims a strategy;

He cannot think coherently. 

In one born rich, some fluency

In English seems a certainty.

His speech rewards raw cruelty. 

His lies have trained credulity. 

Photo by Jose Lorenzo on Pexels.com

The pair now head for failing big. 

And one, at least, we’ll throw in brig.

The other branded as a prig. 

The judges bought by Donnie zig

And zag a willy-nilly jig. 

They’ll claim election fraud and shrig

Exploding blood beneath a wig.

A movie squib’s not hard to rig.

Yet nought can hide the vicious pig. 

A jail will host his final gig.

At end of day, his act is old.

A story sad & too much told. 

The bluster huckster plays at bold. 

Yet all our people can’t be sold

A plan of hate and blame and scold. 

The crooks will all scatter; the tents will all fold.

The joy guides our future instead of dead gold. 

Economy grows and when kindness takes hold.

The caring and comfort will now start to mold

Society working where no-one’s left cold. 

——————-

Tools of Thought

A Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

The Story of Story

The Walkabout Diaries

Donnie wants a hamster 

The Myths of the Veritas

Fifteen Properties

Author Page on Amazon

They’re eating our dogs–NOT!

24 Tuesday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Democracy, life, poem, poetry, politics, USA

And, they’re eating our dogs!

And they’re eating our cats!

And they’re marrying hogs!

And they’re wearing their fleece!

And they’re eating our geese!

And they’re eating our rats!

My, oh, my, such a terrible shame!

They shouldn’t be able to cast their vote!

If their ancestors arrived by using a boat! 

If their ancestors came from some other place!

Not if they’re folks of some darker race! 

Or if they’re called by some novel new name! 

Only the people who look just like me!

Only the people who think just like me!

Only the people who eat what I eat!

Only the people who cheat as I cheat! 

Only the people who like what I like!

Only those folks who never will strike! 

Only the people who do what I do!

Only the people who dress as I do!

Only the people who love as I love!

Only the people who like a big shove! 

Only the people who throw and bat righty! 

Only the folks afraid of God Almighty! 

A country of one is all that I ask.

If we all hate together it’s a doable task. 

If we hide our eyes and derail our brain.

We won’t feel the witches terrible pain.

The world I want is so simple indeed. 

Described by the felon’s hate-filled screed. 

Dance of Billions

Life is a Dance

Math Class: Who are you?

My Cousin Bobby

The Three Blind Mice

Tools of Thought

The Orange Man

Stoned Soup

The Ailing King of Agitate

Author Page on Amazon

The Ship of State

17 Tuesday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, fantasy, poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

creative-writing, Democracy, fiction, poem, poetry, politics, story, truth, writing

Photo by Egor Kamelev on Pexels.com

The weirdly bearded long-tongued frog 

The monstrous orange two-faced hog:

To sea they went in pee-gold boat

So heavy lead it could not float. 

Photo by Asad Photo Maldives on Pexels.com

“Who shall we hate today, my Frog?”

“Let’s see ‘bout artists, I say, Mr. Hog.

Or tallish folks from Wichita 

Or working poor from Saginaw!” 

Photo by Rebecca Zaal on Pexels.com

“Let’s tell some lies; they’re dime a dozen.

They eat their babies and do their cousin!”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Melon the Felon.

No matter how nutty, I’m sure we can sell on.”

Photo by Lum3n on Pexels.com

The bearded frog and the orange-faced hog.

They happily planned their hatred when fog

Unnoticed it crept; surrounded their ark.

Then thrashing around them—a sharp-toothed shark! 

Photo by Pedro Figueras on Pexels.com

“Don’t worry weird frog, a battery’s near!

Jump out and place it right by its ear!”

“Okay, Mine Fooler, surely, I’ll do it.”

“I thank you slave, if lethal, I’ll sue it!” 

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

The weirdly bearded long-tongued frog

Became the morsel saving the hog.

The pee-gold boat was nothing but sticks.

Hog screamed and flailed and kicked his kicks. 

Photo by JACK REDGATE on Pexels.com

But not for long was shark beside. 

The hog became just chum in tide.

And soon the fog was silent, calm.

It seemed to be the ocean’s balm. 

Photo by Ray Bilcliff on Pexels.com

But ‘neath the waves the shark felt sick. 

Such poisonous fare killed him quick.

His teeth fell out; his stomach churned.

Intestines burst—his gills all burned. 

Photo by Tom Fisk on Pexels.com

The poison greed of hog and frog

Destroyed all like mustard fog.

America woke from hypno-hate.

And all were saved from Nazi fate.

———————-

My Cousin Bobby

Essays on America: The Game

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Stopping Rule

The Update Problem

The Three Blind Mice

The Orange Man

Stoned Soup

Essays on America: Labelism

Essays on America: Wednesday

Listen to my Siren Song

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Dance of Billions

Author Page on Amazon

Sonnet: Choose the Joy

15 Sunday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Democracy, poem

The day is gray in every way; a cloud 

Begrudges sun and threatens rain. 

As though our emerald planet sighs aloud

Until the din can penetrate our brain. 

When sighing fails to make us see the light;

When floods and droughts and searing killing heat

Are not sufficient whispers in the night;

When leaves on Tree of Life begin to cheat; 

Photo by Lerkrat Tangsri on Pexels.com

When each begins to leech the sap of Life;

Puts greed ahead of life-forms large and small—   

This disconnection rots the Tree with strife. 

Disaster then, and Death will come to all. 

Photo by Oleg Magni on Pexels.com

It’s not too late to love the Tree Entire. 

Enlarge your family now 

It’s down to the wire.


Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Absolute is not just a vodka

Math Class: Who are you?

My Cousin Bobby

Author Page on Amazon

Galactic Best

24 Wednesday Apr 2024

Posted by petersironwood in nature, poetry, science

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

earth, life, nature, photography, poem, poetry, science, space, truth

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Once upon a time I longed,

To be an astronaut in space.

Me: flying through the galaxy.

Exploring planets, moons, and stars. 

Photo by ZCH on Pexels.com

Was boosted by the Sputnik shock. 

I read of planets hot and cold.

And watched the tale of Spock unfold.

I never tired of voyaging bold.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Humanoids are everywhere.

Diverse: each world a universe

That some day might just come to be.

Out beyond infinity.

A lifetime’s travel in my mind

Has brought me back at last to find:

A planet ‘neath an azure dome. 

It’s blanketed with life—my home. 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

And here’s the lovely crazy cast:

A million species interact.

In ways surprising, subtle, vast

This network all a single clan.

This perfect planet filled with beauty, 

Spirals through the milky way.

My spaceship’s filled with luxury

Kaleidoscopic every day!

It is, quite simply put, the best.

And though I’ve not seen all the rest,

Each flower I see: creation swirled

A wonder whirling living world.

————————

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Life is a Dance

Take a Glance; Join the Dance

The Dance of Billions

Corn on the Cob

Author Page on Amazon

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