in the end there is only one left standing in the widening breach to mend our brokenness, to reach out, lead, to show us how it’s done by example, in compassion only one, though some may cast doubt one will be raised up, one cast out just like the seasons come and go every four years change comes, you know democracy, where each vote counts
when chaos lingers we trust our higher angels to restore balance
Shadorma • 6 lines per stanza • Per-line syllabic pattern = 3 / 5 / 3 / 3 / 7 / 5 • No restrictions on number of stanzas • No rhyme scheme or prohibitions against rhyme • No restrictions on title length
there seems to be no end in sight conspirators wait at the gate provoked by lies, aroused by hate sycophants brace for one last fight while others try to do what’s right we wait, we angst, we bite our nails, holding our breath, we can’t exhale but it will all be over soon we’ll soon be rid of this buffoon with any luck he’ll land in jail
the cold air is thin naked tree limbs poke the sky leaves fall letting go
weeds burst into seed wintering beneath the dust first to bloom come spring
what does it say about our soul when half of us subscribe to hate ‘twas apathy led to this fate spiraling down this rabbit hole inhabited by greedy trolls who prey upon us while we sleep and fill our heads with lies and tweets but half of us are wide awake we’ll right what’s wrong, for all our sake, that day when love takes to the streets
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