Monthly Archives: November 2011

On a Lighter Note

The Poetic Asides prompt on day 17 was for a ‘Revealed” poem. Two offerings:

Buzz Kill

 Plastic wrapper discarded,
Cardboard cookie consumed,
Leaving the small white slip,
Revealing what we already knew,
Fortune cookies lie.


 Voiceless in dim room
Breathless anticipation,
Waiting for ‘Its a ….’
© Mark Windham 2011


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“Hate Speech”

I try to keep most of my political comments on my “Life, Liberty and the Pursuit…” site. However, several things I have read recently in some poetry blogs have gotten my ire up. I have issue with statements of belief by one person being taken as a personal attack by another when there was obviously no intent at malice; just a statement of opinion.

Who is Hating?

It has been confirmed recently that I am among
The most evil of creatures remaining on earth:
The white, Christian, conservative, straight male.
I alone among the tribes of the world are others
Allowed to hate solely based on what I am,
While anything I express in disagreement with
Another’s beliefs is considered “hate speech”.
I do not agree with Muslims and their oppressive,
Repressive Sharia law that kills gays and abuses women;
But, I do not hate them – surely not as much as they me.
I do not agree with homosexuality, and saying so is
Enough to have me ostracized. But I do not hate them
And have never acted or protested against them.
I do not agree with liberal, socialist politics and those
That promote government dependence and a policy of
Lowering to the least common denominator instead of
Working to raise everyone to a higher standard. But, I do
Not hate them or turn to personal attacks as my argument.
Why is it that it has become socially and politically acceptable
To publicly, and harshly, lambast me personally for my beliefs,
But any general opinion or belief I may express is called “hate”?
© Mark Windham 2011

I was also somewhat disappointed recently to see the support that the Poetry Foundation is showing for the “occupy” movement. Not surprised, mind you. The realm of poetry, at least that published and publicly recognized, has been a bastion of liberal thinking for some time. I just wonder what the odds are of  ever seeing them promote a collection of Tea Party Poetry. Something about a snowball and Hades comes to mind.

America the Beautiful


We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.

America the beautiful,
Diverse in terrain, people and architecture,
Splendid in its allure,
Mountain, desert, forest and sea.
Home of the brave,
Without question!
Pay your respects to the greatest of any fighting force;
Politics be damned, staying the course,
Apparent last defender of an idealistic bastion.
Land of the free?
One begins to wonder….
Dependent, learning to vote for sustenance.
“Politician” uttered as profanity, a career instead of a service;
Bloated on corruption, committed to a course of plunder.
The American Dream,
Alive… assailed.
Success demonized by agenda driven media,
Intention the primary standard, profit a stigma,
A people bereft of the great Pursuit and all it entailed. 
© Mark Windham 2011

I guess that is enough of the soap box for this site….


Filed under Commentary and Ramblings, Poetry

Tell Me a Story

The Poetic Asides day 28 prompt was for a ‘_______ Story” poem. Apparently I had a couple of stories in me.

In Progress Story

Hair thinning,
Thinned, actually,
Chins multiplying;
Playing hell at the gym
Trying to reverse the course.
(As a matter of opinion,
All personal trainers are evil)
Wife still forgiving and seeking
My worth as a husband;
And becoming a greater object
Of my affection for the effort.
Children growing like deep south kudzu –
What happened to the babies?
Running the race daily; Work, bills
School, track, gym, homework, dinner….
No finish line and no medals.
The reward being the rare time,
Together as family, no distractions,
Bundled under the blanket,
Competing with dogs for couch position as
We wind down from the weary day.
Tonight we will lay down – exhausted,
Praying we are granted another tomorrow.

 © Mark Windham 2011

A Mistake Story

Just coffee, safe
Hand holding at
Dinner next time,
Open door to
Clothes strewn quickly
On floor
Next day empty,
Confused by the
© Mark Windham 2011


A WallyWorld Story

Demolition derby disguised as a parking lot,
Handicapped spaces full of those that are
Apparently not – looking to be door rushing fine.
Holiday cheer begins and ends with the
Salvation army bell ringer.
The counting game of the day is
Piercings and butt cracks.
Obese children abound, along with an
Overabundance of camouflage on
Hats, pants, coats and boots.
Skin tight clothes covering well rounded
Bellies and over-inflated butts,
Pajama bottoms and hoodies also prevalent –
Oh! Butt crack number four, on a roll!
And …. THAT is just beyond description.
Babies with babies, parents loaded with piercings,
Hair of all colors and skin covered with ink.
Checking out a communications adventure
With cashiers of questionable language skills.
Characters worthy of Carroll or Seuss,
An adventure in fantasy, horror and reality.
© Mark Windham 2011

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The Poetic Asides prompt was for a ‘Tribute’ poem:

Tribute to Sacrifice

A mother with her time,

A father with his energy,

An organ donor with their body,

A soldier with his life,

A Man on a cross –

With everything.


© Mark Windham 2011

I think this one will be a work in progress. So much possible to add.

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Response to the Poetic Asides ‘Travel’ Prompt:

On the Highway

Rushing and cussing

Must remember the purpose;

Destination family.


© Mark Windham 2011

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Good Old Days

Are These The Good Old Days?

When age comes upon me,
And so much of my time
Will be spent in the past,
Sparring with memories
That will judge my life –
Will these days bring smiles
At the joys we shared?
Or tears of regret
For those we let pass by?

© Mark Windham 2011

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Response to the Poetic Asides prompt for a ‘suspicious’ poem. A sedoka, I think.

Guilty Faces

Someone is guilty

But how to tell which

With all looking down, eyes wide?

One tore up the shoe,

Others might have helped;

If dogs could speak, I would know.


© Mark Windham 2011

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Tip Toes




My little girl

Is kissing my cheek

Up on tiptoe to reach.

Or my son stretching to prove

He is nearly as tall as me.

Both a bit taller than yesterday.

It happens again whenever we kiss,

Up on your toes, arms around my neck,

Putting us right at eye level,

And I know that I love you

More than I did before.

I watch them growing

Holding you close

And my heart

Skips a


Two small children kissing.
Image via Wikipedia

© Mark Windham 2011


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Heart and hearth…

Response to the Poetic Bloomings Sunday prompt.

Not Quite as Good

We will come together at the table
Again for the season,
Much the same as last year
And so many years past;
Giving hesitant thanks for
Blessings so often overlooked.
Table full of so many favorites;
Turkey, cranberries for Dad,
Dressing, gravy and greens for me and Sis.
Ham and fruit salad for my wife and kids
Along with green beans seasoned with pork –
Don’t dare forget the crescent rolls.
The sweet potatoes, everyones favorite,
We know will never be quite as good
As what Grammy would make.


© Mark Windham 2011

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Best Ever….

Response to the Poetic Asides day 20 prompt. Trite? Sure. But everyone has to write at least one sunset poem.

Pretty Much Perfect

It was pretty much a perfect sunset,
As these things are measured.
The clouds gave way for the first time this day
As if bowing to accepted protocol.
The world above persistent waves perfectly still,
Palm fronds and sea oats motionless –
Wind noticeably absent.

Irreverent seabirds skittering on smooth sand,
A few taking to wing in ones and twos,
The only motion to mar the scene –
Along with a solitary dolphin
Surfacing to share in the view.
Even the children slow in their splashing,
Some marveling in the spectacle,
Some only surprised by their parent’s stillness.

Sporadic clouds hanging still overhead, breathless,
Proud formations framing the horizon.
Perfect pinks and shades of purples
Start behind the focus of the beach bound gazers,
Sneaking from cloud to cloud,
Splashing each with color – then moving on,
Marching on the brightening horizon.

Deep sighs accompany nightfall,
And the wind releases held breath.

© Mark Windham 2011


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