Poems

for help in finding evil's source
one first must understand, of course
what evil actually is
it seems as easy as a breeze
is it a glitch? character flaw?
(do try avoiding Godwin's Law)
banality would soon emerge
leading contender for the scourge

but all those explanations lack
the clarity of white and black
a lack of empathy and care
is not sufficient, though it's there
the universe itself observes
but hardly interferes, it serves
to purely keep a going score
it's surely neutral in its core

when thinking about god and love
and absent all of the above
does evil simply manifest
as a celestial trial? a test?
a sorting challenge for your soul
which isn't really in control?
free will be damned
they had you jammed!

no, that's too easy, is it not
we all know, and if not, we ought
that choices are what makes a man
and choices, never mind the plan
choices for evil, or for good
choices considered, understood
we are our choices, they are we
and evil's source? it's you and me


Author notes: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2792617-The-source-of-evil

a tiny hamlet in the woods
log cabins puffing smoke
a rooster's "all is well" intrudes
it's time to wake the folk

the fresh snow glitters as the sun
sends embers down below
the evergreens light up as one
turn bluish as they glow

soon mammal bleats and squeaky doors
add to the morning's sounds
the dogs are barking on all fours
the milkman makes his rounds

a tiny town, no wall or gate
idyllic and pristine
a perfect place to contemplate
what is, and might have been


Author notes: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2793397-Hamlet---A-Small-Village--

the pond reflects the world above
a brightly colored mirror
the city landscapes that I love
are shinier and clearer
in the inverted images
than in my real life
those marred by endless scrimmages
absorbed by endless strife
the water filters, keeping just
the beauty of our plans
when all we've built had turned to dust
untouched by human hands
the ponds will still reflect the world
unaltered and pristine
and campfire stories will be told
about what might have been


Author notes: wc 81 Photo from RichPointofview

I asked the Pope of my religion
by email, text, and postal pigeon
Pope: will you call out as a crime
these so called poems that don't rhyme

oh sure, a rose is still a rose
but surely these, at best, are prose?
more likely, random word collections
vying in vain for our affections

the Pope soon answered me, as follows:
though gift-less, not for them our gallows
to err is human, to forgive divine
though I suppose I could support a fine


Author notes: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2792938-Blessed-Be-the-Meter--Blessed-Be-the-Rhyme