Tom Simard

Poetry, Music, and Prose

10/10


10/10
The time
we still must wait.

Not the young
Belgian reporter
whose dog’s name seems
wholly appropriate.

Not traveling down rat’s alley
but endless roads
with racoons lying in repose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Difference

Difference
The city’s
looming buildings
as a student
had always stood

but now
no longer
rattled by the traffic

surrounded
by difference

and music
that spoke to all

you saw
on the movie screen
a garbage bin
producing uproarious laughter
which was impossible
to comprehend.

 

Saturday’s Choice

Gotta Serve Somebody

Mona Lisa

If the Mona Lisa is  indeed a self-portrait of the artist himself, here could be that of our president, if he were artistically inclined.  In case you don’t recognize her, she claims to be a billionaire but apparently is worth only a paltry $600 million.

 

 

 

Tuesday’s Choice

Who said life was fair?

Friday’s Choice

Saturday’s Choice

Sunday’s Choice

Saturday’s Choice

The Dotard Meets Rocket Man

A Trophy Ban

I’m confused.

 

Confessions

I was listening to some of Khachaturian’s music today, and wondering about him, read a little and discovered he was denounced for music which, interestingly enough, he had written to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the October Revolution.  The Central Committee of the Communist party said that his work (along with that of Prokoiev’s and Shostakovich’s) smelt “strongly of the spirit of modern bourgeois culture, the complete denial of musical art.”    He confessed his guilt.

Moving in a Dream

Moving in a Dream
As I moved along
the thawing fields,
silos rose up,
and red lights
flashed from on high,
as if in a dream
impossible to change.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Worth a Listen

https://www.npr.org/2018/02/16/586616026/students-who-survived-florida-shooting-want-politicians-to-know-theyre-angry

Yes, I’m for gun control and do think gun advocates misinterpret the 2nd Amendment and are in the pockets (should I say holsters?) of the NRA.  However, more than anything else I would like to lessen the seemingly routine occurrences of these bloody spectacles.

These young people have a difficult road ahead, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t try to change things.  Haven’t Mothers Against Drunk Driving made a difference?

Good luck to them.

Being Poor

“It is not the man who has too little,  but the man who craves more, that is poor.”

Seneca

 

 

Friday’s Choice

Lackeys

 

 

 

 

Bring It Home

Voices

“There are, it may be, so many kinds of voices in the world, and none of them is without signification.”

I Corinthians 14:10

Nobody Knows a Thing (Not Wearing a Stitch)

A Very Merry Christmas!

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

As you know, the President of the United States is a man of his word (nah, don’t ask what his word is) so he is bound to honor all his promises.

Because I am sympathetic to their plight I really must take exception to the idea that returning to the mines is in anyone’s best interest.  In the U.S. fatalities are way down from what I guess was the peak of 3,242 in 1907. It seems it’s now down to about 20 a year.  Black lung disease is still a problem though.

China (another promise)

is still remarkably accident prone.  In 2013, 1049 people died.  Nothing like the march to progress.

Immortality Sweeps over our Land

 

Despite the pistol he’s carrying, Roy Moore is no straight shooter unlike Girolamo Savonarola.

Since Moore doesn’t seem to believe in much besides self-aggrandizement (just like the president), one can only imagine what he would do if he were put in a position similar to that of Savonarola.

 

 

 

Jerusalem

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, which killest the prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee; how often would I have gathered thy children together, as a hen doth gather her brood under her wings, and ye would not!”

Luke 13:34 – KJV

 

 

Saturday’s Choice

Saturday’s Choice

Friday’s Choice

Clearly

“We wish to make it abundantly clear that this is not a military takeover.”

Maj. Gen. Sibusiso Moyo

Wednesday’s Choice

Consider the Sparrow (and Sloth)

Today with the barrage of activity that surrounds us in sensory overload, I think we should also consider the sloth.

 

No Irony Intended

“The homeland will not exist unless corruption is uprooted and the corrupt are held accountable.”

A Saudi Royal Decree

Pterodactyl (5)

Pterodactyl (5)
I rubbed my knee
before lighting up a cigarette.

Taking a long drag,
I let it out,
rat a tat tat
in accompaniment with
the rain
that was coming down
like shrapnel on the roof.

Pterodactyl (4)

Pterodactyl (4)
Clarence
was waiting,
Private Clarence Winters,
drafted like me.

Although we had grown up
in different worlds,
he on the Baltimore streets,
me on a small farm,
neither of us
knew of anyone
with money to speak of,
and we shared a love of
jazz.

But I cannot
go to him,
I have to flee.

Pterodactyl (3c)

Pterodactyl (3c)
He did not listen
as much as speak
and because my mind
has been twirling more
than a bit
I doubt I
picked up much of what he said
but that I face up
and get myself ready.

Pterodactyl (3b)

Pterodactyl (3b)
He had come
to console
because he thought
my time had come.

But I had not
yet given up hope
because Max
knew.

 

 

Pterodactyl (3a)

Pterodactyl (3a)
He didn’t know
the man
who entered his cell
from Adam.

But his clerical collar
identified
why he had come.

Pterodactyl (2c)

Pterodactyl (2c)
It rose and glided off
its enormous wings stretching out,
its beating rhythm
sounding
Max’s fleeing steps.

When he finally arrived
at the old ranch house,
he entered
the screen door
slamming shut.

His grandmother
looking up from the kitchen table
with its plate of sugar cookies
and the drink that she was drinking
with weary eyes
listened.

Pterodactyl (2b)

Pterodactyl (2b)
One day
in his ninth year
as the clouds swirled
above
at a leisurely pace,
he saw something
he could not believe.

 

Aristocratic Ways

“I have seen the young prince,” reported a French diplomat, “walking…preceded by the assassins of his ancestor, surrounded by those of his father and by all appearances, followed by his own.”

From The Romanovs:1613-1918 by Simon Sebag Montefiore

 

 

 

Pterodactyl (2a)

Pterodactyl (2a)
Walking home along the river
after Bible class
where he’d heard the story
of a righteous God
who had passed judgment
with the Great Waters,
Max would often see
what at first resembled teetering overturned carts
but were in fact
slot machines thrown in by the mob.

Pterodactyl (1g)

Pterodactyl (1g)
I’ve thought it
over and over again:
Max is my only hope.

The clouds are rolling in
like a pair of thrown dice.

Pterodactyl (1f)

Pterodactyl (1f)
I know
there’s no way
to change what happened.

The man had told us
he had crates of whiskey for sale;
alcohol was hard to get
and we were dying for a taste.

 

 

Pterodactyl (1e)

Pterodactyl (1e)
A tall
pasty-white guard
approaches
his syllables stretch out
as if they were sentences.

“A visitor is coming later,
Winters.”

“Is it Max?

“No name,” he said
looking slightly befuddled
before shuffling off
a heavy rifle resting on
his bony shoulder.

Pterodactyl (1d)

Pterodactyl (1d)
I’m monitored hourly,
but my imprisonment
is not particularly harsh.

Despite the fencing,
it would not have been difficult to escape
but I would never dare
the jungle surrounding all.

Pterodactyl (1c)

Pterodactyl (1c)
My leg
is being eaten away;
my wounds remind me
of this island’s wild terrain

Pterodactyl (1b)

Pterodactyl (1b)
Lying on the ground,
made up of the dead and dying,
I look to the mist
in the high tree tops
as my withering lungs strain.

Pterodactyl (1a)

Pterodactyl (1a)*
Lush green
draping mountain
streams
untamed
flowing rapidly
in deep ravines
where unseen creatures
move
discordantly.

*I am in the process (albeit slow, and to be honest, just begun) of writing a lengthy poem entitled, Pterodactyl. Numbers will indicate parts, letters  stanzas.

Friday’s Choice

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