Pause For Poetry:
Michael Hawkes /32
Two Of The Four
A poem by Michael Hawkes
He chose to jump
And falling flew
Past fifty shattering window panes;
He looked then leapt
With others who
Feared falling less than searing flames.
The planet burns,
What do we do,
But jump for glory at the games.
There is no sky to leap into
That isn’t full of weather vanes…
Who’s to blame,
Who can we sue,
Who has the fewer counter-claims.
Who to name and who to boo
For seeking future market gains.
A rose was red,
The sky was blue
As was the world before the flames.
Then come the rains
That douse the fires, so very true,
Then drown the cities on the plains
And whatever other life remains;
What can a poor man do.
6/8/21 – Hawkes
Feature image: Pixabay
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Michael Hawkes is an 80-year-old survivor of all the world’s wars. He learned (and loved to rhyme) by torturing the hymns he had to sing at school. A retired West Coast fisherman living in Montreal since 2013, he is an unschooled Grandpa Moses writing an average of five poems every week.
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