I haven’t even read
the news of the day
but it is with trepidation and dread
that I make my way.
The events of political power
as they wind their way
are filled with ephemeral odors so sour
like putrid water to be thrown away.
It doesn’t even make good prose,
monosyllabic words tweeted.
English teachers propose
“better word usage” (maybe poetry)
Kennedy had Frost;
Clinton had Angelou;
Obama: Alexander and Bianco.
The next: no poetry just obscene tweets
to muddle through.
In the beginning was the word
and the word was with God.
Now only lies are heard
working up the mob.
May the word return
in a glorious new coming —
truthful, honest, falsity to burn,
restoring justice, banishing cunning.
Quenching this parched land,
may poetic waters gladden the heart
reviving spirits, lifting praising hands,
causing fleeting miscreants to depart.