How well do you recall your Grade School days?It can be fun and games in many ways.But everything you had to learn was new;You weren’t all that concerned with what you knew.At times, you made good grades so to impress;Parental pressure, too, you must confess.The social side was soon reason
We think back on our lives, to sumWhat we believe we have become.But then a succinct thought appearsHow that same question’s seen in years.At twenty, “Look out, World,” we blared,While deep inside a little scared.We’re finding life lives not by text,We really don’t know what comes next.At forty, Wow!, where
April is national poetry month, and applications are open for the next Aurora Poet Laureate and the first Aurora Youth Poet Laureate. Established in 2020, the Aurora Poet Laureate celebrates the heritage, uniqueness, diversity, and achievements of the City of Aurora through the art and appreciation of poetry. Selected for
Hello, I’m Mother Nature—Hear me out!You need to know this, and without a doubt.I know you know the Seasons, know them all…You name them Winter, Spring, then Summer, Fall.I like those names myself—they’re easy names.But there are times I dislike many claims.You blame Me for whatever you think wrong;For things
This guy can hit the ball, I know;Hit anything you care to throw.He hits to any field, and long;And if you shade him, you’ll be wrong.When he’s at bat, your nerves are frayed,And, if the score is tight, afraid.He is one dude who makes you tense,Because there’s pressure you can
The Spring we long to see each year is here at last;And with it comes the wish we make that it could last.The brilliant blossoming and blooming has begun;Our Nature’s world is now commencing on its run.But it is hard to take this in with just a shrug;Inevitably it gives
The first pitch well may be a strike, that’s true.The second pitch may then become Strike Two.But these two pitches don’t decide your fate.No matter how you count, it’s not too late.But now there is the danger, facing haste.Please pardon when I say it—haste makes waste!The “cool and calculating” adage
This new commercial bombshell promising this feat,Removing wrinkles from old age—that standard beat.That may sound good, but pardon when I question why;For old age is a privilege, youth cannot apply.Why do away with wrinkles, why the ego-burn?It seems to me that wrinkles are but what you earn.Besides that, they have
It is not easy, not by far,To be the person you think you areThe person you think people see,May not be whom you want to be,That person you may not yet know—For, first , these others have to go;So life becomes enigma-prone,Which one is there when you’re alone?Come on, ‘fess
What is artificial about intelligence?If anything can think abstractly, that is real.To think and learn beyond instruction, in any sense,Is downright thinking on its own, like touch and feel.Of course, the term intelligence may not be fair;Outside of greed and instinct what is it that we do?The ones responsible for
There are those people upon whom the sun will shine,Regardless of the circumstance, or so it seems.From your standpoint, their problems always come out fine,While yours, too often, seems to wallow in your dreams.That this is supposition doesn’t mean a thing;As far as you’re concerned, it has to be a
Why did I let myself get in this mess?I didn’t have to be here, did I? No!There isn’t time to rue it now, I guess.I’ve got to find a place where I can go. I know I should be running, but…run where?I must be looking for a place to hide.I
How do you identify with God?Now does that question seem a little odd?After all, God’s far beyond our ken;A deity above the likes of men.If God should ask “Explain yourself!, could you?How else is God supposed to see you through?Oh, I apologize, but I forgot—God can’t read minds until you
And wrote in life as showing great intelligenceAmuses me. Most everyone in those days ledTheir lives dependent on the use of common sense.Moreover, putting the right word with the right phraseCan be a learned trait, a trait gained more from thoughtThan inspiration. Then, the art of writing playsA most decisive
No war leaves anyone behind;It always spreads its ties that bindIn ways not seen or felt throughout,But nonetheless without a doubt.With those in combat, it’s assumedThat they’re the only ones so doomed,But know this—those who stand apartWill be affected from the start.Adjusting, when the shooting stops,Will rest in what each
No matter how advanced we think we are;No matter what, or when, or even just how far,What we conceive as forging on aheadMay justly be the opposite instead.Just look at all the ages lived before,And each and every one is stained by war.Summations of all this will judge one course:In
Oh, naturally, I’m wary of this learning stuff.I reckon learning ‘how to live’ is quite enough.Sometimes I think that having smarts would be a kick,But, honestly, at other times, don’t give a lick.So let me tell you, what is natural is best;Leastwise, like when what you can do beats all
In many ways, we blunder through our lives;Each step from which another step derives.Each step in the direction then we face,Oblivious to what we then displace.Influence is not readily discerned;How that reflects upon our lives unturned.Its power far beyond our conscious thought;Where circumstance, a player now, is caught.Determined by each
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” The succinct word.To do it, you must try to do it, is inferred.It may not be a challenge, or, of course, it may;Regardless, it takes effort—there’s no other way.However, in today’s world, with what must be done,We often wait for someone else to be the one.Observing
Since this does not require it done with some affection,Nor do we have to look at it with some reflection,I guess it’s all right if we try to seek perfection.The trouble is, all efforts will require inspectionMost likely always seeing changes in direction.Most likely, also, we’ll have trouble in selection;Each
