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Sample Poems by T.P. Bird
In The Valley Of Shadows
Acting together with
character, circumstance
accounts for the chaos
of history-its twists and
turns.
- Jacques Barzun in
From Dawn to Decadence
After the prime hours
were over and smoke
hung like sheets across
dark alleys, we noticed
our endless talk left on
tabletops-dropped out
of our mouths like gum-
ball machines gone
berserk, falling where
they may between
cigarette ash and empty
glasses. It was from here
we recognized red flashes
in the near-perfect ions
of a distant space-
instantly turning away
to avoid going blind
with rage. Even in our
callow youth we realized
monsters had grown
from small pebbles
washed ashore where
the great cities spawned
a landscape of angst &
uncertainty, the sour
breath of millions
blowing constantly
through streets and
towers-built from
the flesh of the earth,
and by the hands of
avaricious gods.
The snug multitudes
managed to ignore the
counsel of wild-eyed,
sleepless prophets, who
again and again sacrificed
themselves on the altars
of alarm-leaving the
indifferent with thoughts
that usually ended with
a dangling 'huh?'
We watched old folks
nod their heads in city
parks-dozing and
dreaming the dreams
of loyal angels,
who recalled their
good wars, and passed
the time in repetitive,
fossilized conversations.
Once, they thought
themselves vital, but now-
content to see the past
as their ever-present
present, they offered us
nothing we could bear.
In the bright sun of
confusing days we beheld
the near-sighted pushers
of guns & butter propagate
their speculations offered
up in weighty analysis-
never believing we could
suffer a fool's death in
our time. With bile and
blood in our throats,
we marched away in
bitterness, the golden
days passing into a ten-
year blackness these blind
guides never foresaw.
Their ill-conceived
intentions never returned
in glory; ragged and torn,
scattered over the
ensuing years, their
fragments still wait in
the shadows of history
for a final shot at some
kind of redemption.
Understand this-some
who remain hide their
memories in a cloak of
duty, or some abstract
idea of freedom. Many
chose to forget it all.
We've grown too tired,
too distracted, too
compromised to admit
we once cared that too
many died for a cause
beyond any good reason.