I walked as a grey kid
lost in his own hometown streets.
When my slow mind
began to see more clearly
it saw brick dusted air
and a sunlight blotched with yesterday's scabs.
There were small parks in that part of the city,
where the shabby slept and fornicated,
a wilted grass
was dotted with used condoms
and patchworked with dog urine.
We thought it fine
to explore those sleazy acres
parents behind us, we running ahead.
as if we were discovering paradise.
The clouds would give way,
and a light fell upon this new world of ours
as if newly painted.
For a while, we kids saw each other as
playmates and not intractable rivals.
Later, back in the crowded reek
of the crumbling tenements,
we grew soul-blind once more.
We hoped that the God
we had been instructed to love
occasionally watched over us,
that perhaps once a week
He checked us all out,
from the far side of a city park.
Only a few
make a pact
with the wind
Only a few
know the joy
there within
Free of the shadow
that follows
and stalks
Escaping
tomorrow
in moments recaught
Horizons lie waiting
as pilgrims
embark
Voices like magnets
pull light
from the dark
Only a few
hear the music
on high
Through handlebar
portals
— embraced by the sky
(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)
Such a beautiful day to go for a hike in a national park
The contrast of stunning scenery against garbage strewn everywhere is stark
These parks are for all of us to enjoy, but we need to show our respect
If we see anybody littering the ground we need to report it to the ranger to have him catch the suspect
It is time to hold these individuals responsible, who use nature's gift to us as their dumping ground
Maybe a large fine to anyone doing this, if they are found
Perhaps the sanitation department could use their front lawn as a dumping spot
Maybe that would serve as a good lesson that needs to be taught
Respect for anything in this world is certainly eroding away
Maybe we could all do our part to reverse the trend, what do you say
In my heart, I know a lot of us do care
Nature is there for all of us, let's look after it, there is no time to spare
Rosa took a stand
by taking a seat :)
making a strong point
with dignity sweet :D
[I read her autobiography for Black History Month; always admired her, but a big fan of her now!]
An Assault On All That Is Sacred And Beautiful
Standing by the canyon rim
The couple embrace
“How beautiful, still”
Are their last words
*
Two old men
With tears in their eyes
Look out over the canyon
Kicking the dirt hard
*
A boy holds tight
His father's hand
As they watch
The flight of an eagle
*
A girl with
Arm around
Her mother's waist
Reads the posted sign
*
The Department of Interior is no more
We apologize on behalf
Of all that was once
Sacred and Beautiful in our World
*
Let us go to Amusement Parks
To lay new sorrows on their feet:
With sighs show sorrows’ tiger marks
And have them make sad stories sweet…
Let us go to Amusement Parks
For more exciting ways to greet
Keep asked appointment with the Clarkes
And dare to Melancholy beat…
Let us go to Amusement Parks
To streaming tears finally dry,
Like clashing wires let out sparks
Though pockets they might at last dry…
Let us go to Amusement Parks
To loved Jamborees of old try:
Happy Dogs imitate their barks
While chefs of the parks our fish fry!
abandoned parklands
filled with decaying dreamscapes…
frozen wine cooler
Illustration Caption: Frederick Law Olmsted,
father of American Landscape Architecture,
at "El Capitan" iconic summit, Yosemite, CA,
in 1865.
Olmsted saw verdant paths of our core.
Urban sprawl separated at a cost
that let us know nature and adore.
Those who wander find awe is not lost.
Wilderness lands surely shape our view,
songs of soil, stone 'n star, none too far.
See what we, as humankind, dare do -
conquer the inner self where we are.
Landscape concerts to which all can go
futures for youth lie beyond the grids;
where one can become their own maestro,
raise up nature's promise for the kids.
Parks and places for all of our people
spaces for worship without a steeple.
14 Lines Sonnet 99 Words
Pen Illustration by G. Gaul
10/1/2022
She sits in her old four door car
Jittery as a stick shift
All day every day
An old fashion woman
Smoking a pack of Camels
With all the windows rolled up
Goldfish
Staring out
Blowing bubbles in her dirty bowl
To the trolling park people
Who step from their slick driverless SUVs
Into the woods
With their dogs properly leashed
If only they knew
The poetry she was writing
Rhymes flicked away
To her spy ashtray
Who are they
Anyway?
No better than her
As she
Hides
From her lost job gonner kids and Fentanyl bibs
Q will show her the way
She ain’t so alone
With her hours of boredom
And Trump Putin and Xi
Khamenei
Saved like treasure
In her crumpled hands
She’s noting the march of our deaths
Every day
Out here in the open
Not the other way around
As I had intended for this poem
There’ll be a time
Soon
When she unleashes her door
And gets out
Breathes the same air
Armed by the unholy words
Take back what is yours.
Balloons Geese Parks
David J Walker
The man in the park
With balloons for sale
Dreams are a penny a piece
Balloons float away said Daddy that day
Shall we give one to the Geese
Shall we send a prayer
Into the air
Shall we thank them for their song
Shall we watch for flight
In the mornings light
Shall we cheer them
and steer them along
Shall we sit for a while
And watch and smile
As balloons and geese
Fly away
Shall we pay a penny
And hope that many
Will return for their
Annual stay
The man in the park
With balloons for sale
His dreams are a penny apiece
Bourn by the breeze
And over the trees
Beautiful dreams released
Family Plot
David J Walker
Grandfathers
Grandmothers
Sisters and brothers
Fathers and mothers
Lay beneath the covers of
Grasses and flowers
In parks platted for the souls
Of bygone times
The roles once played between the
Clocks eternal chimes now
Call to the stones growing at the head
Naming names
Telling the tales
Of the dead hours
Decorated in drying flowers
For the dying mourners
Of annual visits
Don’t fidget
mother whispers softly
As I mention her in my prayers
Drawing up its seating
Of relaxation
By what tree-blown, o'erflown
Of pleasure cloud, bird
Do these cities, coarse-heard
Graciousness take on.
How more so, park-guided
Down whose paths are, nights
Albeit eve's chill lit
Old-style lamped! Warmer!
For its theatre's farther,
Cafe's, pub's strewed lights.
Melbourne
Stubborn refusal by Rosa Parks
to up from her bus seat set off sparks...
that ignited flames of Civil Rights movement.
'Twas a legendary, watershed moment!
Submitted for...
Clerihew Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh
Date written: 12/18/2020
winter summer of fall
they love it all
no matter it snow
park where kids go
some play after dark
i know i did
PARKS AND KIDS
they love it
stay and do all this
they love the swing
all that summer brings
in back my mind
going back time
think as kid what i did
ITS THE
SUMMER
PARKS AND KIDS
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