Young America Sings Democracy’s Song

young america sing democracy_s song

From the ash of disaster rise the strong
Sown resolve forged in Colonial foundries
A new warrior floods the commonwealth
Young America sings Democracy’s song.

Beneath the blades of grass lies unrest
Wolves in shepherd’s robes forsake safety
Innocents taken paid the Devil In full
Classroom killing fields filthy with death.

A child soldier wields the Sword of Light
Striking the glutinous beast bowel deep
The creature’s squeal deafens the swamp
Traitors and thieves beg for their lives.

From the ash of disaster rise the strong.
Young America sings Democracy’s song.

by, Hugh A Tague
inspired by; Walt Whitman’s
I Hear America Singing

Abandoned

abandoned-equipment

(Free Rhyme Quatrain)
by, Hugh A Tague

Crops and  flowers no longer flourish here
windows boarded up no one to look out
sounds of children playing heard never more
no neighbors to stop and knock at the door.

Once rich and fertile land now lies barren
no life dwells as far as the eye can see
no animals nor ox to pull a plow
four walls and a roof are all that’s left now.

Standing alone surrounded by nothing
for all that once was is now abandoned
sky dark as night though it’s only midday
no color to be seen just shades of gray.

Wind blows dust across the desolate fields
ominous grey clouds take over the sky
life giving rains are too little too late
forsaken forever is this land’s fate.

For all that once was is now abandoned
sounds of children playing heard never more
windows boarded up no one to look out
four walls and a roof are all that’s left now

Copyright © 03/11/13 Hugh Tague

 

Walk With Me

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Hear the cock’s golden horn call from afar
as a solar torch touches the edge of the world
Igniting the night’s sky, turning dark clouds to white.

Your dawn’s horizon afire with another’s sunset
a pathway paved in ashes of fallen rainbows
a bridge seared onto the surface of the sea.

Follow me to where days have no end
and the night needs not hide in darkness
where the worrier, has no worry
and the warrior, no war.

Walk With Me…
Walk With Me.

by Hugh A Tague

 

The Crude Colossus

 

the new crude colsass

Not unlike a brazen giant of freak fame,
With transplant faux hair and a bad spray-tan;
Here at his brain-washed, iron-clad gates shall stand
A mighty moron with a torch, whose flame
Is the persona of gaslighting, and his name
Betrayer of Exiles. From his beacon-hand
Glows world-wide “No-Trespass” sign; his eyes scan
The bridgeless harbor that his sinful cities frame.

“Return to your ancient lands, you matter not!” cries he
With puckered lips. “I don’t want your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses scheming to steal from me
Such wretched refuse shan’t set foot upon my shore.
Send these, the homeless, back across the sea,
The light’s off and I locked the door!”
 by Hugh A Tague

Aquathritis 

The Old Wizard, Art by Alexandra Khitrova
Old Wizard, Art by Alexandra Khitrova

Born a brother of the sea
My blood moves with tide
Great waves crash inside me
As life plays out upon its stage
Rain dancing with terra firma
Cleansed skyward reaching pillars
quenching their Sun-blanched thirst
Gray clouds thunder with light
The storm’s magic is no longer silent
Bones tremble as ocean’s ebon depths rise
Gale-fired swells transverse the shore
It Surrenders to its fury without fight
Calling to mind ‘All that is given’
With time nature’s eye closed
Tortuously the storm initiates rest
Suffocated soil may once again kiss the sky
Devouring with vigor the day’s light
Perched upon this mountain top
Time’s toll on my form is evident
Each droplet of future’s rain
Is a promise to me forecast in pain.

by Hugh A Tague

Blindsight

Blindsight
Blindsight

Blindsight
(Shakespearean Sonnet)
by Hugh A Tague

Thor forewarned me of the impending storm
his hammer thundered in the distant sky
from a gentle breeze the strong wind is born
whipping up the sea as it blows on by
spray from the gale-charged whitecaps sting my face
great swells pound the pier beneath my feet
mimicking foot steps, the waves keep pace
timbers trembling as they run past me
specters of warriors invade the shore
the angry surf crashes upon the beach
sounds of mortal combat with shield and sword
it seems their victory is now within reach.
The sighted can see, all that can be seen.
In blindsight I feel, what all things can be.