The Critic - Art and Poetry - by Bob Atkinson

The Critic - Art and Poetry

(c)2014 Bob Atkinson

The Critic

'tis always easier to criticize

than is to do it yourself
although in truth the latter
contains far more fun and mirth


my point lies somewhere in between

good and bad of poetry
adjustment for the mainstream
how we absorb ideas

to see this in a different light

with crystal covers on the lens

we can, with open eyes

love writers with sharp pens

those who look beyond the fluff

and understand good meaning

divest themselves of constraints

and pursue a different dreaming

they see a world with tearfulness

not holding on to chains

which produce establishments

that grate and agitate

my desire in this arena

carries to all a simple message

don't let the future be determined

by past usage and direction

what you see is fabricated

a reality far from real

poo pooing things that matter

holds their only zeal

me, I've grown accustomed

to my meaning zipping by

heads of those who look

only at the surface side

doesn't mean I'm disheartened

to try is not hard at all

when you feel compunction

to rearrange it all

Statesmanship - by Bob Atkinson

Statesmanship

(c)2014 Bob Atkinson

Dwight D. Eisenhower

"... we hold it to be the first task of statesmanship to develop the stength that will deter the forces of aggression and promote the conditions of peace ..."

Dwight D. Eisenhower

here in that time of crisis

those wayward days of mud

when those who would be powerful

gain fashion with use of gun

not seeds of perfect charity

no love do they possess

just overriding purpose

by thumping of their chests

here in our development

nature has our crossroads made

do we digress to the point

where progress reverses trend

back to a time when people lived

a life so badly blessed

with slavery, toil and pestilence

given to their masters' whims

or do we define the nature

of progress to be made

a simple organizing statement

which carries to the grave

all we seek of accomplishment

all love grown for our friends

no enemies designated

we're all just mortal men

so first we can define

the void of useful souls

that underlying demon

we can't allow to grow

when some seek to gain power

by force or use of gun

intimidation, recklessness

they need to understand

society cannot fathom

such willful negligence

needs of the many for peace

herein takes precedence

And So It Was - by Bob Atkinson

A Whiter Shade of Pale

A Whiter Shade of Pale

Poemwriters: Booker, Reid, Fisher

we skipped the light Fandango
turned cartwheels 'cross the floor
I was feeling kind of seasick
but the crowd called out for more

the room was humming harder
as the ceiling flew away
when we called out for another drink
the waiter brought a tray

and so it was that later
as the Miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly
turned a whiter shade of pale

she said there is no reason
and the truth is plain to see
but I wandered through my playing cards
and would not let her be

one of sixteen vestal virgins
who were leaving for the coast
and although my eyes were open
they might just as well've been closed

she said, 'I'm home on shore leave,'
though in truth we were at sea
so I took her by the looking glass
and forced her to agree

saying, 'You must be the mermaid
who took Neptune for a ride.'
but she smiled at me so sadly
that my anger straightway died

if music be the food of love
then laughter is its queen
and likewise if behind is in front
then dirt in truth is clean

my mouth by then like cardboard
seemed to slip straight through my head
so we crash-dived straightway quickly
and attacked the ocean bed

and so it was that later
as the Miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly
turned a whiter shade of pale

and so it was

And So It Was

(c)Bob Atkinson

to trip the light fantastic

to stop and tell a story

to those who hadn't gone

has quick implications

being right or wrong

doesn't really matter

do we tell the truth in all

we say, do, implicate

or do we just revolve

around those reflexed feelings

what seems comfortable today

in feeding image of self-worth

or contentment toward our graves

to set in motion accolades

and minds tuned to a song

garners ornamental tweets

allows us to belong

to a mood of indecision

strictly aberated in some way

you think it normal tuning out

some think it's moon gyrated

Sound Turned to Silence - by Bob Atkinson

Sound Turned to Silence

(c)2014 Bob Atkinson

Oceans

we all, in our own way

struggle through pursuit deranged

broadcasting our thought processes

in that in life of little gain

how much snaps your memory

to where you hear my tune

and sift your own experience

to drive home my good moods

how much of who I am

rubs right off on you

am I just noise in your cabin

as you ignore my attitude

silence knifes the book pages

as if cutting sentences in half

spewing waste out through a gate

and pulling shards of glass

silence feeds the open echoes

trundles through my past

and forms that open crust

of my ocean as I laugh

silence fills my need for clarity

non-ambiguous in its tone

the world defined by nature

or total lack thereof