The full color cover of "Speaking Up in Poetry & Prose" portrays The Statue of Liberty with a tear in her eye . . . if you get my drift. - Jack Joseph Prather 2009.
Five samples from the 2007 book follow:
Venting The Flames The cloth flamed then dissolved to ash / incinerated by a person crass and rash / I was galled and appalled about the rat / who burnt the flag that let him do that. / In what nation would he prefer to live? / what contribution has he here to give? / is he full of hate or acting on a whim? / is he blind to the nation that bred him? The Constitution - The Bill of Rights / allow those awful flag-burning sights / protect any protester obeying the law / even the misguided flag-burner I saw. / Our liberty was earned under that flag / it was painful to see it burned like a rag / the tear in my eye was my solemn reply / as wind vented Old Glory up to the sky.
Drops of Dew Bones protrude within gossamer skin / taut black casings ready to yield / to the relentless sun. / Beautiful blue sky with white clouds / are but deceptions to the natives / of this arid feral land. / Parched mouth silent to the outrages / a frail mother protects her child / and her quiet dignity. Husband and father both surrendered / long ago to cruel natural forces / of land without mercy. / Pain numbed by countless atrocities / she silently considers their fate / and aliens with gifts. / Maternal fear of sole survival arises / as Samaritans try to rescue her / and their consciences. / They are but drops of dew in a fire / soon to return home to express / regrets and concerns. / Ever to be haunted by hollow eyes / silent cries and gossamer skin / of a mother no more.
View From the Cave You threw a stone then I threw two / you aimed at me and I aimed at you / we tossed them with a vengeful thirst / and it did not matter who threw first. / We learned stones were not enough / so we made spears to make us tough / as our weapons grew so did our hate / an evil duo that could decide our fate. / Your tribe, mine, does anybody care / about the reality in a doomsday scare / but if we don't and it fulfills its mark / we will all be doomed to eternal dark. / We must conquer this wartime dread / before it finds us and renders us dead / or banishes us to caves hurling stones / and pondering all the unknown bones.
Clickety-Click Clickety-click, clickety-click, the train hurtles through the night / warning all those within its path with headlights beaming bright / and its whistle blares in the evening air a mournful ghostly song / it won't slow down through any town for its journey is too long. / The cadence of those clickety-clicks provides a calming charm / as I catch sight of a bedroom light gone dim on a passing farm / and wonder if anyone who lives within the fleeting houses I see / could catch a glimpse and wonder about any passerby like me. / As daybreak dawns and my journey ends I know it is time to go / but I will always wonder about the folks that I can never know / and I am sad to say that on that day I uttered a sorrowful sigh / for I may have lost a lover or friend because I passed them by. / Clickety-click, clickety-click is a symphony that still plays inside / and I see each night when I flick off the light visions of that ride / through it all I know it must stop and if not I should admit defeat / that I must abandon wistful dreams and bond with people I meet. / Yet whirling wheels on tracks of steel still echo through my nights / I seem fated to be forever possessed by mythical melancholy sights / they haunt me and taunt me deep within but I must move on I know / for I got on the train that lives in my brain more than 30 years ago.
Soldier's Lament It was only a moment, it seemed like more / on a fateful morning on that foreign shore / as I aimed my rifle and my heart beat fast / and I killed a man but he was not the last. / My enemy would have slaiin me if he could / if he had fired first as he thought he would / I saw life ebb away from his piercing eyes / with not one murmer, no parting cries. / I remember him lying there so deathly still / and wonder who cries because of that kill / is it a family like mine that he left behind? / forever torn by war so unholy and unkind. / I continued that mission again and again / I became inured to wartime fruits of pain / battling on for those comrades who died / their fates determined by those who lied. / I will stalwartly fight any foreign threat / to safeguard my family and America, yet / I must now lament the American invasion / that pre-empted the power of persuasion.
(Author's note: this poem is speculation, as explained in the Back-Stores and Briefs section.)