Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Poetical Sounds About Summer's End

And when the summer finally descended
It was immediately swallowed by fall-chill
Here the swallows have arrived
Their mechanical tin rustlings, thrilling the evergreens
The trees not so lucky begin to flame and unclothe themselves
To the backdrop of a setting summer

The sky looks frenzied
The tornado seems to have swept all of Oz
Into monochromatic emptiness
Pouring its color back to Kansas
The sun peers like a drunken landowner over fog banks
Into mountains, hilly with snowlessness
Cloud hands open
If I could, I'd tell the little girl next door
I'm shedding my winter skins and sun jumping
She'd point out the leftover chill
But I'd tell her not to wait
We won't know blue like we do today

Friday, September 9, 2011

The Madison Street Tigers: George Taliaferro

And glass, and rags, and paper boxes
Traded sacrificially for pigskin
And one boy would keep it
He kicked it when everything was against him.
He kicked it high.
And the street bought a football with dreams it couldn't afford.
And a boy promised his mother in a time when he couldn't.
But he did it with glass, and rags, and paper boxes.

And cheers, and lights, and adoring fans
Traded for the quiet celebration away from the noise
And one boy would walk alone
He played and everyone screamed with triumph.
He played it and won.
And the game bought a future with the glory he couldn't touch.
And a boy full of spirits with his father's words
Without cheers, and lights, and adoring fans.

Yesterday, I became aware of how "American" I really am. I had always suspected as much, but I officially knew when I began pouting after realizing that President Obama's "Jobs" speech was going to cut into the beginning of the first game of the NFL season. I'm semi-ashamed to admit that, but not quite ashamed enough to actually not admit it. Anyway, congratulations to Green Bay (I knew you guys were going to make it!), and in the spirit of the season I wrote the poem featured above. I wrote it while reading The Gridiron Gauntlet: The Story of the Men Who Integrated Pro-Football in Their Own Words and read about George Taliaferro (who is officially the first African-American drafted by the NFL). Anyway, there is a beautiful story of George and the kids in his neighborhood collecting enough money together to purchase a football in order to form their own team, which they named The Madison Street Tigers. So, I wrote about it. (UGH! Lengthy explanation. Sorry about that)

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Untitled (Fragment)

Cathedral Spire, ever green
Over tawny wheat bow'd in death
The end of summer
Signals of harvest
Evergreen deciduous pointing heavens
Full of open blue smiling
The wheat worships
The very rocks sing to Him
Conduits of praise

Ok, Ben, you asked for more. It's not exactly ready, but there you go. :-) I'll have to rustle up some of my short story/pieces.