What Makes Me HappyTheir eyes stare back into my own, Familiar features long I've known, Just lately to appreciate The life bestowed on them by fate Plus circumstances mine alone. Idyllic aspirations blown With every disappointment—prone To fall far short or much too late. Their eyes stare back. Now looking back on how they've grown-- Strong saplings from the seeds I've sown-- As opportunities abate, I pray my love will resonate. Most precious gifts I helped create-- Their eyes stare back. "What Makes Me Happy" first appeared in Rue Scribe Blue Spacious SkiesBlue spacious skies meet greener pastures’ hue, Where sleepy woodland creatures rendezvous. The fragrances of lilac and of fir Are pungent in the air and would confer A feeling of tranquility on you. Your present rather dismal point of view Is neither flexible nor even true. You bring the rain; your outlook does defer Blue spacious skies. So part the curtains wide; let sunshine through. Find shooting stars at night with someone new. Our lives go by in such a hasty blur. You’ll see things better than they ever were. And cloudy days might suddenly incur Blue spacious skies. "Blue Spacious Skies" first published by The Society of Classical Poets On Better DaysOn better days, the scented summer air Would softly blow and gently tease my hair; Few news events gave rise to much alarm; We never felt we'd come to any harm; The world had problems, but we didn't care. But now we're told we always must prepare For darker times ahead. The headlines scare More than inform—incite more than disarm. On better days, My thoughts return more frequently to where An optimistic child once played, and there On summer days exploring grandpa's farm, The future's possibilities had charm, And we had positivity to spare... On better days. "On Better Days" first appeared in The Hypertexts Backwoods TownThe tattered glovebox map did not reflect The backwards nature of this backwoods town. I moved here to belong, instead I found Contempt, which I did not at all expect. My ancestors once lived here long ago; The paper said they were respected then. But no one living can remember when They saw them here or who they used to know. I'm cousins with a lot of those I met, Though it seems not to matter that I'm kin. I still am from the outside looking in: Politeness and cold smiles is all I get. That is, they smile until I turn my back. And that is when they plan their next attack. "Backwoods Town" first appeared in The Writer's Cafe Magazine Made in China“Made in China” reads the label--
Shattered on the coffee table: Some cheap and broken plastic toys We purchased for our girls and boys-- Imports purchased which enable Labor camps that leave unstable Lives in ruin and can disable Limbs...but disregard the noise Made in China. Are our children really stable? We disservice and mislabel All the little girls and boys Who grow up with cheap plastic toys; Sold our souls and bought a fable Made in China? "Made in China" first published by The Society of Classical Poets
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