Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Still Blooming


by Seah Greenhorn
(poem with copyright)


be it liquid red
from my blood


or clear
from dear constant tears



plopping still

into a vast black hungry hole--
my soul,

instilled life
to gradual growth;

a rebirth.

For eventually,
flowers bloom.

Never too soon.

Friday, September 2, 2016

[ Who decides hunger's unholy abide, ]

[ Who decides hunger's unholy abide, ]

by Seah Greenhorn
(poem with copyright)

Who decides hunger's unholy abide,

within flesh tinted, yellow, or pale
famished producing its distinctive odor;

the wealthy unfamiliar with this particular unhealthy smell
as daily waste canned brews its own potent juices
composed of the richest delicacies of near or far away lands.

These excesses tossed, costly or cheap, should shame the heart when down the street or across the sea millions malnourished wish for more than
their bit carefully rationed for entire families to eat.

Generosity itself is a unselfish start.

Little endeavors:

a prayer, a share, with eyes and ears open
to notice; to begin to sympathetically and genuinely care.

If only each one less wasteful be

it may decrease the monument of rotting rubbish the international earth sees and instill a conscious awareness of another's plight. A thrifty need to conquer greed with a good measure of personal integrity.

To end hunger's blight can begin with ernest effort, a loving thought inspired:

a sack of groceries for a needy other graciously bought.