Light

Edison gave us the electric light bulb
An eclectic plight bulb
Burning, burning every day.
We turn it up brighter
Make things lighter
Only Lady Earth's fighter could see
Such blight in the light
A gift of the Lady since we first walked
First stepping in the night
So slightly knightly, Her fighter
Fought for her light nightly
But how we did stray, overcome by fright
And light bulbs chase out the dark of the night
Kept close to man, for men are like mice
And neither candle nor star could ever suffice.

Poetry
I love poetry.
I love digging
Through the cavernous catacombs,
Unlocking a chest of brand new meaning
That gives life to its beautiful façade.
Uncovering the secrets of the slightest scratch.
Looking into a life unknown
As words of gold spew forth.
They speak of their ancient maker
Like shiny crystal-glass skulls.
To dig up the fossilized meanings of poetry
Is the greatest treasure.
None have kept it under a glass case in a museum.
None have dated it; meaning has no age.
The simple pleasure of digging up poems
Is the golden whisper they emit at the first prod of the spade.
Soon enough, they swell in dynamic volume
A rising choir of enlightenment.
I love poetry.I love listening.