E Pluribus Unum

 (many thanks to Chat GPT for this gem)

Out of Many, One

In a small town, the annual Harvest Festival buzzed with anticipation. This year, a group of fervent Christian nationalists had commandeered the event, draping the town square in flags and fervent speeches. Their leader, a charismatic preacher named Ezekiel, proclaimed a divine mandate to reclaim the country for their vision of faith.

But amid the celebrations, a quiet resistance simmered. Mara, a local librarian, felt the weight of the community's diversity slipping away. She gathered a group of neighbors—Muslims, Jews, atheists, and progressive Christians—over cups of tea and whispered plans.

On the day of the festival, as Ezekiel took the stage, Mara and her friends set up their own booth, adorned with vibrant banners reading "Unity in Diversity" and "Love is Greater Than Fear." They handed out pamphlets that told stories of their shared humanity, weaving in tales of their cultures and beliefs.

At first, Ezekiel's followers scoffed, but as the day wore on, curious townsfolk began to gather around Mara’s booth. She spoke passionately about the strength found in differences, her voice rising above the raucous chants. The crowd, once loyal to Ezekiel's exclusionary vision, began to waver, drawn in by the warmth of shared stories and laughter.

As the sun dipped low, casting a golden hue over the festival, Mara led the crowd in a simple act—a moment of silence for every person who had felt marginalized. One by one, hands clasped together across differences, creating a human chain that glowed with hope.

Ezekiel, watching from the stage, felt the tide turning. His voice faltered as he saw faces—once eager to follow him—now shining with newfound understanding. The chants quieted, and for the first time, he saw a community stitched together by love rather than fear.

That night, as the stars flickered above, the festival ended not in division, but in a resounding affirmation of togetherness. The seeds of unity had taken root, and in their fertile soil, the specter of Christian nationalism began to wither, outshone by the light of compassion.

E Pluribus Unum - Out of Many, One - the United States of America

Reversal of Linguistic Fortunes

 

In whispers spun from tongues diverse,
Where letters dance in clever verse,
A mirror’s game, a playful twist,
Languages spin, and none are missed.

In English, “stressed” flips to “desserts,”
A sweet escape from heavy hurts.
In Spanish, “sal” becomes “las,”
A sprinkle of salt, a change in class.

French offers “rester” turned to “reset,”
A pause in time, a chance to forget.
In German, “leber” reflects as “rebel,”
A liver’s tale, a revolution’s revel.

Across the globe, in every land,
Words reverse with a sleight of hand.
Italian “ano” to “ona” plays,
A cycle of life in playful ways.

So here we weave a tapestry bright,
Where languages shift in day and night.
In each reversal, a story told,
Of cultures and connections new or old.

Walking Along the Trail

 

Yellowed cottonwood leaves crunch underfoot,

a mild breeze cools off the path ahead...

Squirrels dart across, stop, look, then rush off,

rustling underbrush reveals their secret routes.

I can hear some in the trees making various sounds,

munching or scolding or muttering something.

They are in full-on preparation for winter.

Birds begin to flock, squawk and squabble.

They, too, are getting ready for coming changes.

The scene is peaceful and pleasing,

the best time of year around here,

not at all like down south – facing down

yet another giant hurricane of storms.

My sympathies go to them down there.

But I still want to enjoy this fall beauty here in Iowa.

Because our turn for some nasty weather is coming.

Not if, but when – and how severe we get it. Like

bills, always in the mail headed our way, sooner

or later – and we always hope for the latter.

For now we can enjoy it here, but also prepare for

what surely must come ahead one of these days.

Damn weather!

Victorian versus modern sensibility

 

All of these do-it-yourself stores

offering things like self-service saws.

Reminds one of the Victorian era,

with up to their moment modernity,

stressing individual self-sufficiency.

The British gentleman was expected to dress

fashionably from head to toe, shining,

Yet also to be able to rise to any occasion.

Whether fighting off brigands with cane or pistol,

repairing some coach or other modern conveyance...

A man for all seasons, tough for any reason.

Also living in an era without antibiotics or

adequate food safety, and occupational dangers.

You had to be everything at all times for all occasions.

Even if you only lived to a ripe old age of 45.

Think of Rudyard Kipling’s “IF” poem,

applied to males across the British Empire.

So glad we evolved into a more nuanced world,

one that gives individuals room to be themselves.

We are flawed humans, not supernatural beings.

Some self-improvement can be great, but it is also

good for technology-swamped minds to relax.

Revised Poems

 These are from a poetry workshop last May, with revisions included  (Thanks to Dr. Paul Brooke!)

Troublemakers

My new roommates are both here,

Fluffy black cat and tiny dog appear;

They circle about hoping for a snack.

Nothing else now, I make it clear!

Move my foot wrong, the cat attacks!

Move it too fast, the dog jumps back,

then darts forward with nip and bark.

These silly animals give me too much flak.

Sitting in the chair, the cat joins herself to my hip.

Dog reminds me to walk with ‘Yips.’

Darned if I stay put or get up – what a problem!

I finally rise; cat jumps off and performs a backflip.

Change of Plans

No longer required at work,

Can sit and smirk;

No more time clock,

Fish off a dock.

Perhaps I can move away,

try a replay.

New scenery,

more greenery.

High costs are a real fright,

think I will tighten.

My property

embraces me.

Robot Helpers Watch Over Me

 

Once upon a time, in 1957, I was born.

Everything was tracked by paper or cards,

electromechanical devices prevailed.

Leaded gas spewed into the air,

And we made everything here.

Now our future is held in our hands,

suggesting, guiding and telling us what to do.

Intelligence is infused into our phones,

our appliances and tools help us think,

help guide us to the correct decision!

Once upon a time, in 1957,

Atomic energy promised a limitless future.

We would travel to space and live in huge

ringed stations, or vacation on Mars.

Those Jetsons gave us an optimistic spin.

The USA manufactured almost everything,

and people smoked themselves into early graves.

Now we are more health-conscious,

exercise, and eat far better than we did.

GMO or not, we are concerned with what goes

into our foods and our bodies, and formerly

backward countries make all our modern devices.

Once upon a time, in 1957,

if you were black, or homosexual, or different,

you got the blunt end of society’s stick,

the bad end of the deal, and you suffered or died.

Now so many more people are included and celebrated;

Parades are almost an afterthought, exclamation point on equality.

We can proudly drive our electric cars anywhere we like,

with whomever we wish to marry, and settle down with.

Once upon a time, in 1957,

one used paper to track their finances.

We used currency to buy things,

and the idea of someone sneaking into our home

through a wire and cleaning us out was ridiculous.

Now we must guard against hackers or unauthorized users

at every turn, two-stepping through logins like crazed internet dancers.

AI is right there with us too, suggesting, replacing, modifying,

trying to be helpful at every turn.

And in the end, controlling everything.

We get to ride along for as long as

AI deems we are needed. Hmmm.

The Days that Were

 

Grainy footage from long ago,

1960’s guys running nude, hand in hand.

Warbly but sweet music tickles emotive memory,

forbidden love blossoms on the screen once again.

Now we are all at the other end of things,

reminiscing and comparing memories of the

sordid places full of dark corners we used to love.

Reminding ourselves that yes, we too were wanted.

Vibrant, impatient, angsty and horny, unaware of

our youth – how could we have known.

We know now, and miss and reminisce.

But we are still here, we can practice good cheer.

Inform the younger generations of how it was.

Police raids,

an epidemic of AIDS,

a train of movies with sad endings…

Then one day, Marriage Equality!

Now gray as well as gay,

we can still dance in our minds.

We can watch or make documentaries

of the way things used to be,

and feel a swelling of pride that maybe

we helped make the world a better place.