Poetry

Paul Sableman photo

By

Rick Davis

Idealism

This administration

Is sterile and heartless

Like a collection of white

Monastery birds

Or outdated airplanes

Floating like demonic gods

But my face is rendered

With the cruel truthfulness

Of progressive politics

As the consciousness

Of the country

Pines toward impeachment

So I drop bourgeoisie mud

And inhale optimism –

A shower of glitter

And orchid warmth

Even though it is January.

Idealism in this climate

Is a ruby in black soil

And I eagerly grab it –

Dazed in a sunbeam

Feeling hot life pump

Through my soul

And so I perceive

Tingling leaves

And a shadow of deer

Which brings peace

And feathered silence

As I cling eagerly

To substantial dreams.

Dear President,

I am not your puppet

As my pen screams

Peace & justice

Which are

Cooling conscious waters

And socialism that

Is warm and sweet

In winter wind.

Rick Davis

Rick Davis is a graduate of Northeastern Illinois University, and several graduate programs.  He is married, and has over 700 published poems.