My 250th Love about being American

250

In my previous blog (that got removed with the expiration of my work email) I started enumerating things I love about my country and being an American based on the number of years we have been a country. On our 250th birthday I want to continue that, and since I no longer have access to my old blog I might repeat myself. So be it.

This year I am inspired by my countrymen and their striving to make “a more perfect union.” I love how Americans protest against actions our government takes or doesn’t take. We believe in humanity over corporations and we continually struggle with that in our highly capitalistic society. We have protested in No Kings marches, Right to Life marches, Black Lives Matter protests, etc. Sometimes I can’t agree with the protests but I have to admire the people who refuse to be silenced. We have the freedom of speech and as a people we exert that right. That makes me unbelievably proud to be an American and, in spite of my English teacher misgivings, believe in more perfect.

 

Poem: Precipice

Precipice

Standing on a precipice jutting out 

Over a canyon, a hoodoo, perhaps

Is something I often envision of 

Myself, terrified that I might just fall

To a painful destruction like that gal

In Yellowstone while her entire fam’ly

Watched in horror, her body becoming

Like a jellied orb of a blinded man.

What did she fail to see that all her kin

Saw in blatant terror? That precipice

Upon which I had been photographed safe,

Like a twelve-year old’s first public speech

Trembling, nearly in tears but his mother

Smiles and tells him he did such a good job.

“Did you imagine us all in under-

Wear?” The ridiculousness of that all

So common instruction abruptly wakes

Me to my precarious standing here

On a hoodoo above the river that

Would carry me away if I could live

Through this fall that I am about to take.

February 2025

About This Poem

I was inspired to write this poem after seeing a photograph of me on a cliff in Canyonlands in Utah. Just looking at it terrifies me, so I don't know how I got brave enough to get out there. So, of course, the poem is about that fear of heights I have. The photo is of a Hoodoo at Smith Rock in Oregon.

 

Poem: Minimalist Enough

Minimalist Enough

My

pen

writes

words

that

sometimes

mean

something

to

me

and/

or

others

and

sometimes

(maybe

now?)

they

mean

absolutely

nothing.

Is that 

minimalist enough?

February 2025

About This Poem

I wrote this poem when I was trying different forms. The first stanza is made up of single words while the second is made up of two words (obviously) and the form was telling me it was minimalist. So, being confronted with a bit of writer's block with that form, I wrote this. The photo is from an artwork at the Museum of Glass in Corning, New York. It looks like a minimalist drawing, but since it is actually made of glass it probably is not so minimalist...

 

Poem: We Were Given the Stars

We Were Given the Stars

The stars on the flag unite in a

Blue sky that would render

Them meaningless if they fell

Apart. Living together like stars

Means space and orbiting

One another in mutual respect,

Not floundering meaninglessly

Adrift to collide exploding

Into nothing but cosmic dust.

United we stand, divided we fall

And I want nothing to do 

With the failure of falling

Nor the game of blaming,

Relinquishing any responsibility

To predecessors who could

Not be infallibly prescient.

We were given the stars

So let’s wish and dream

Upon those stars in the blue sky

Together.

January 2025

About This Poem

I think the bickering of politics is what inspired this poem. I get tired of it, even when I have my bouts of contributing to it. This poem expresses my belief in the promise of America and I think it is completely appropriate to publish this week now that we have been an independent nation for 250 years. Happy Birthday America! 

I took the photo in my backyard on a clear night. I'm amazed that you can actually point a phone at the dark sky and make out constellations. If you look, you'll see the Big Dipper (Ursa Major).