My Favorite Poet

Do people really have favorites, when it comes to poetry?
I only ask in a general sense, not so much for me.
While people read a poem here, or there, every once in a while
Do many people read them regularly, just for a heartfelt smile?
Writing poems has many reasons, some for pleasure and pain
For author and for the reader, an offering to remaining sane
But while some people read poetry with regularity and ease
I don’t seem to attract such readers, as much as that would please
Am I so esoteric, or is it rather that I’m a really a bore?
Is one or two of my poems enough, without the need for more?
Can it be that I haven’t found my audience, reading just for me?
Or could it be that my impression is correct, just the way I see?
Well I can’t go by my own experience, because I have never gotten fame
It’s something always wanted, but I hardly expect the same
I suppose there is many readers, and authors who are read
So I guess my question is answered, long before it was said.

Barbara Blackcinder

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The Election of Stupidity

Just a crackle of flashing light
Shortly before the dark of night
Hailing the storm soon to be here
Filling the people full of fear

But it’s not a flash that goes away
It’s here tomorrow and then the next day
It’s a storm of no precedence
One without hope of a defense

It will come and damage all
Shortly to cause a tremendous fall
Renting damage and smashing cares
Leaving people with stunted stares

Yes we have caused what was never seen
Never could we propose, so horribly mean
There was never such a president
Soon to Washington he’ll be sent

To enforce on us all his pagan will
Horribly long before we get his fill
Pain and agony will be sent
Lives and dollars crudely spent

Until the day we finally awaken
Realize our fortunes he has taken
Pulled from our horrified mind
With stupid ideas we’ll shortly find

And woe to us who voted or not
Apparent vote count doesn’t matter a lot
When we see the mistake is done
Greed and stupidity, religion has won

To combine the two as heaven sent
Twists and distorts, minds are bent
To the will as has been done before
Stupidity has yet to close the door

So once again we’ll reap its desert
Only his ego will not be hurt
Nothing known can stand in its way
Now that we have had our say.

Barbara Blackcinder

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Disbelief and Depression

Why does it bother me so
That people believe in the invisible
They disregard what they should know
And defend the indefensible

It is because they repudiate knowledge
At every turn of the calendar page
Hiding behind a stonehedge
Denying facts with a unholy outrage

They insist that I can’t know everything
And this is surely true as any fact
But this also holds for what they sing
When truth is truly what they lack

To me it is very depressing
That they hold to a holy book
When to read it from beginning to ending
Gives them a horrifying look

The tales it tells of its ‘creator’
Who causes all kind of ‘-cide’
Who claims not to be a dictator
But in truth all his flaws they must hide

He tells people to kill their own children
Or to wipe out a whole civilization
Because they were not ‘the chosen’
Or for causing about him derision

So you go to the bible’s new section
The one with the sacrificed son
A man with nice guy intentions
Who wholly supports the old one

God kills his own offspring with murder
And then goes ahead and does tell you
That it is the ultimate answer
For all of the sins you might do?

It no longer matters if you sin
Because I killed my son just for you
As long as you get your accolades in
It’s the best that a god could hope to do

It’s depressing that so many believe
All of these cults that are geared towards death
Just beliefs that only man could conceive
For the hope of a post-living breath

It’s just so frustratingly implausible
To see so many people holding as true
The simply ignorant and deniable
Fairy tales and those outright lies too

So go about your ways as you must
Holding you head high in the fog
Living and breathing a fable you trust
And deny truth when you trip on a log

Surely muddied will be your face
But in your mind you’ll see not a thing
Because you have draped it in lace
For those life ever-after hopes that you sing

Barbara Blackcinder

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The Unwavering Spirit

The telephone rings unexpectedly to my ear
But it’s another alarm that my mind does hear
It’s the call of a mission, another rescue
Someone in trouble, maybe it’s two

It’s an alarm in the firehouse, my house it is
One out of seven, are the real chances
So out of our chairs and beds we go
Facing challenges that we never quite know

Maybe a fire or a rescue or two
Doing the best that anyone can do
In a hurry to get there is how we go
Arrival a question that we seldom know

Obstructed by traffic, or weather maybe
It’s impossible for us in the truck to foresee
But we persevere through the vehicular maze
Seeking a path without any delays

But we get there as quickly as we can
All of us anxious, right to a man
Hoping that it will not be too extreme
Nothing we can’t handle as a well-oiled team

We carry our tools for the job we must do
Spreading out in small teams of one or two
Finding out what the situation calls for
Breaking into a house or a car’s locked door

Finding inside a victim in a room or a car
We hope that their life hasn’t gone too far
Dragging them out if that is the call
Seeking them out, we must find them all

To render our care to one and to each
Extending our danger with a cautious reach
To pull them to safety or to other such aid
Maybe all they’ll need is a bandaid

But tragically all our calls so well do not end
Some lives our help we cannot give or lend
We try, though we cannot help them all
Death is quite the insurmountable wall

It doesn’t matter the means of the end
How their lives will not get to mend
We suffer their fate in our hands
Sadness buries us all in its sands

With our regrets and all our remorse
We must return to our still proud horse
Finding a way to recover and rebuild
Our faith in ourselves must be refilled

And like the steed that rises from hell
We will return as steady as well
And once again fight for our mission’s cause
With a gritted setting of our rescuer’s jaws

Barbara Blackcinder

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The Store Window

I watch with glee throughout the day,
To see the small boy jump
It twitches then leaps until erect
Then collapses into a clump

Beside it flies the strangest boat
It twirls on a line from above
It too jerks in its revolution
But its movement is what I love

I see them through the window clear
Their mechanics unknown to me
To watch them move is so thrilling,
Exciting, and joyful to see

I am a boy who’s time is endless
When watching such frivolous things
Mechanical dolls that smile and shrug
And boats that fly without wings

Barbara Blackcinder

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Barely Care

Take me now, I barely care
Nothing works for me
Happiness is very rare
Not much good to see

I’m always on the wrong side
Of choices that I make
My wrong guesses are wide
With every stand I take

How can one be always wrong
Always opposed to everyone
The list of negative choices long
Seldom correctly ever done

Why do I cry about my life
Because I’m so seldom right
All my opinions are filled with strife
I lose every verbal fight

Not that winning is worth a damn
I have no real wish to surpass
But being right is no shame
Just that I’m always on my ass

Barbara Blackcinder

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Duration Limited

Look behind and see what’s there
Find a treasure hidden long ago
Let it comfort you for a time
But in its memory you recall a low
It is the pain of knowing its past,
Be it quick or sometimes slow

Can you ever find that happy moment
Again to smile in a hearty grin
Recalling the glee that you it sent
Into a heaven that you did win

Where you were happy with hopes of forever
With a fear because of the past truths
Knowing that it can’t last, not never
It’s as fleeting as your long past youth

Barbara Blackcinder

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