The Bar
The sky had deepened imperceptibly And three stars quietly announced The passage into evening. The bar opened its shutters and doors. Truth, Beauty, Love, Morals, and Faith Ambled in, adjusting their eyes To the dim lights inside the bar, And sat down at the first booth They encountered. A man behind the bar Dried glasses, oblivious to the guests. Truth was the first to speak. He said, “I have an idea for a game.” The rest looked up at him, vaguely piqued. “The one with the shortest lifespan Buys drinks for everyone,” he continued. Not to be outdone at the outset, Love agreed in principle but countered, “Rather than the shortest lifespan, I suggest the one whom everyone Can do without buys drinks for all.” Faith tapped his water glass and said, “How about the one whose assertions Need the most proofs to be believed Should buy a round for one and all?” Morals cleared his throat and bellowed, “How about the one who needs the most Axioms to forestall the need to prove Should pay comradery’s price?” Finally, Beauty opened a compact mirror, Powdered an exquisite nose, arranged A pretty eyelash, and said to no one In particular, “If someone doesn’t order Drinks instead of all this tiresome gabbing, I shall leave you all to your sordid games.” Courage, who had been sitting at the bar, Ordered two drinks from the barman And soon was joined by Beauty. October 25, 2020
A Universal Purpose
This morning the sun rose gloriously Over the distant hills as it does most mornings And now it douses its flaming crown In the western sea. Tomorrow I expect it’ll do the same Although it might not. Birds sing shrilly in the evening trees, You’d think the trees were singing. I wonder whether these have a meaning Or some universal purpose. Exquisite beauty certainly, though it happens More often than not. Isn’t it enough, If it’s beautiful and I love it? Isn’t that enough? We look for meaning in our lives As though it were some precondition, As though we must prove our usefulness To Someone or Something. Words have meaning, but we don’t. We are their sayers, their creators. They serve us or they don’t. October 18, 2020
Fabrice Poussin
A Special Dictionary
Once there was a man Far away in time from us. It doesn’t matter what his name Will have been since nobody Will have paid attention to him. Anyway, he liked the meanings Of words but not the words themselves Because the words never stuck around But left the meanings to fend for themselves Which they couldn’t very well do Since their roots sank deep down Entangled in the loam of people Long dead. The words would flit off Like butterflies to the next flower That would open its petals to it. The man decided he’d send the words Packing and he’d stand guard over All the meanings. He’d make A special dictionary once and for all Of all the meanings he could think of With nary a word to slip or slide away. October 13, 2020
The Truth Is
The truth is I don’t know why I’m here. I guess if I weren’t here, I’d be there Or somewhere else. Maybe the one who is here Wouldn’t be me. Perhaps he or she would be Someone else Or no one at all. The truth is Being is not so clear cut. It’s not that I have doubts, It’s just I’m not so sure. October 10, 2020
On Love
What can you tell us about love? I’m not talking about moral love, The love-your-neighbor love Or even the love of children or animals. I’m talking about that other love, That love of the other That consumes you in its fires While leaving you whole, That like a whirlwind lifts you up So high you can’t breathe anymore Or a whirlpool that pulls you under, That moves in mystery And cannot be described or understood Because love is, Love is like Enoch who walked with God And was not. September 9, 2020
©2020 Mike Stone
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