America, My Country 'Tis Of Thee

To be sure, 

Renne Good is not the first 

Poet to be snuffed out 

By evil,

But by looking 

The other way, we 

Make doubly sure 

She won't be the last.

 

 

Calling All MAGA Boot-Lickers Come Rain Or Shine

Y'all start lickety-split a 

Things-to-do list 

For that top crum- 

Bum of yours and don't

 

Stop even if you run 

Out of saliva

 

For the spit- 

Shine 

That comes after,

Right on time.

 

 

Chorus Of Cicadas

We are here to help you 

Remember together how

 

The wind shapes 

The pines and to hear 

With the approaching 

Twilight, the song

 

Of our longing all ready 

Set to disappear.

 

 

Elusive Illusion

Illustrious as ever 

An unforgettable image is, 

This one was also so 

Riviting it took forever 

To reappear--see us? 

We're still, waiting here.

 

Down-To-Earth Autumn Rhymes

Fall where they may, 

If they could talk, these humble 

Leaves would have acres to say 

Of their brief 

Yet colorful sojourn on Earth, 

Whereas we who have the power 

Of high-sounding speech, utter 

Utter asininities day-after-day,

 

Pretending what we mumble, 

More often than not, takes this 

Too, too precious pedestrian 

Breath of ours away.