I kind of feel like I am standing in front of a room full of progressives. “Hi, My Name is BostonJoe, and I am a recovering Kossack.”
Registered here after the great pie wars of ought-five.
I’m not really recovering. I still love the Daily Kos. Just giving this a try. Like the format and the content so far. Nice place you got here.
So. Here’s a poem. A freebie. Kind of a little environmental ditty, that I like. Cross-posted from the merry old land of Kos. Hope poetry is allowed here.
Weed
Her eyes at seven
fade from steel
blue to sea
green flecked with
gold.
They are beauty
and see truth.
She bounces
down two
stairs free
school bus
escape.
Spring on the breeze
and in her step.
Yellow petals
break through trim
green lawn sun
lit to catch her
eyes.
She sees the value
and no price tag.
Plucked from
life in dying
fades but still
glows in her
hand.
They swing with grace
and harmonic rhythm.
Dandy lion
rings her voice
music dances with
her out stretched
hand.
She speaks poetry
and sees truth.
We pay men
to poison this
perfection
covered with
white lies.
She absolves sin
and salves our soul.
