Poetry

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Televisions blare
And newspapers tell
All that is wrong
And little that is well.
Through satellite waves,
We hear of disasters
And ponder the credentials
Of those broadcasters
Who make us aware
Of all that is there.

So clamorous and raw!
Is that all they saw?
The fall of the nations?
Brutal assassinations?
The fire, the earthquake?
And justice at stake?

Here upon this street un-loud,
Sunlight swallowed
A piece of cloud.
Where gentle breezes blew,
Sunburst shoved
A vibrant rainbow through.
A neighbor waved
And said, “How do?”
A hummingbird hummed
Songs of tranquility.
A mother tender-kissed
A baby’s skinned-up knee.
A tiny child
Huge bubbles blew
And then caressed
The flower-dew.

I wonder:
As televisions blare
And newspapers tell,
Do they make us aware
Of all that is there?!

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