My literary musings and creations
Carl Shakey married Becky Tree
became my parents
so I was
Chuck Shakey-Tree
a few months ago I married
the beautiful daughter of
George Dull and Brenda Axe
my new bride, Charly
told me today of our pending child
but what a burdensome name for a child
learning to spell
Carl or Carla
Shakey-Tree-Dull-Axe
I see the images as clear
as if yesterday
though I don’t remember much
from yesterday
My granddad took us
my brother and me
to a little fishing hole he knew
where there were sure to be fish
Our tackle – a cane pole
silk line, small hook
and a box or two of
tasty-looking worms
I saw the chuckle in
my brother’s eye
and was ready to learn
the science of the game
how to thread the worm
just so – to keep it on the hook
right away I felt a tug
and pulled to set the barb
my brother, excited,
wrapped his line around
an overhead branch, fish attached
we soon retrieved the three inch beauty
we filled a stringer with hand-sized
blue-green-gold bream
they flavored our afternoon
with pride
few afternoons since have
been spent so well
sharing fun and love
and a banquet of fish
O, let America be America again –
The land that never has been yet –
And yet must be— Langston Hughes
Children are foolish
to be born of parents
with no parenting skills
or the temerity
to be sick or malnourished
or to have nothing
and come to a land of plenty
or commit the crime
of darker skin, different tongue
as a nation proclaiming God
and rejecting His will
can we provide
for the least of these?
As morning brightness
sparkles on water far below,
a tiny silver bird turns toward me,
grows into a screaming vulture
and shakes the tower
beneath my feet.
Orange fingers reach through
cracks and holes,
seeking me,
hot breath against my back,
urging me along.
A young woman stands,
head pressed against the outside wall.
dread and pleading in her eyes.
She comes to me,
her fingers searching for mine.
I open them to her.
Seared by the inferno,
we spend a silent moment memorizing each other,
as dark tendrils search between us.
She swipes a fist at smudged tear trails.
Together,
we step to the window ledge.
Sharing one last glance,
our hands grip tightly.
We escape into cool, blue air.
There was a time generations ago
when the frail held a special place
at the family table
we wanted to love
There was a time generations ago
when we sat at Grandma Mary’s feet
and heard her stories
we wanted to know
Now is a time of
bleach bland food walkers
blaring Fox News
stored like teacups in a cupboard
Along the way my life became
two entities
One touched me, hugged me close to him
the quiet, moody one
He soothed my ragged brow
felt torment in my day
said he could take it away
The louder, boisterous one
smiled and nodded as he heard my grief
Said he could bring me
one more day, one more chance
to find the way
I saw no hope with the louder one
one more day to struggle
one more chance to fail
I laid my head on the quiet shoulder
and let him take my hand
In remembrance of Robin Williams – We will miss him
Poem from “All of Me” by Hal C Clark
Carl Shakey married Becky Tree
became my parents
so I was
Chuck Shakey-Tree
a few months ago I married
the beautiful daughter of
George Dull and Brenda Axe
my new bride, Charly
told me today of our pending child
I ponder the burdensome name for a child
to learn to spell
Carl or Carla
Shakey-Tree-Dull-Axe
O, let America be America again –
The land that never has been yet –
And yet must be— Langston Hughes
Children are foolish
to be born of parents
with no parenting skills
or the temerity
to be sick or malnourished
or to have nothing
and come to a land of plenty
or commit the crime
of darker skin, different tongue
as a nation proclaiming God
and rejecting His will
can we provide
for the least of these?
“I’ll be everywhere…. Wherever they’s a fight so hungry people can eat, I’ll be there.” John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath
each new day kills plans
to earn his way,
in all this land there is no place to go
his daughter wears
a tearful, crooked smile
her hunger a spear run through his soul
his promises come flat
and meaningless
his shame floods every corner of each breath
until he hops a freight
and goes away
to try and send a dime to take his place
Say Rick, old partner, old hoss
it’s about time
for you to pack up your bags
and ride on out of Austin
I grew up thinkin’ I had the smarts
to decide a few things for myself
Maybe others feel the same way
Maybe folks with darker skins want
to vote and have it count
Maybe some women
don’t want you running their lives
You got your tail in a bit of a crack
when you tangled with Wendy Davis
fussed at her like your wayward kid sister
when you didn’t get your way
She put on her runnin’ shoes
and stood up for us commoners
The third point I want to make is ….
well hold on to your britches while I think of it—
I guarantee it’s important
just skipped my mind
Hal C Clark's Blog 