Keeping up With Change



Our parents reared us and our kids rear theirs.

My friends Gumby and Pokey are now long gone.  

Action figures have taken their places.

So long video game Pong.

Now it’s Play Station that lights up faces.


From our kids to their kids who are grand to us

They may say you won’t believe this,

Our parents wrote with pen on paper to make grocery lists

And read from trees turned into books.

The way of today may seem foreign and strange.

We must learn to navigate that river of change.



© David Girard 25/03/15

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

my Lot

My Jesus, My Lord.  Am I destined for hell? Your taste extremely bitter, Intoxicating fragrance can’t smell.   You’re without sin but I wallow in it. I’m the black sheep of the flock in more ways than one.   A man that loves men, that’s what I am.   This you already know as part of your plan.   I must be myself, the best that I can.   When among  others, idly we talk.  Not gospel of song but gossip of rot.   I ponder O Lord, what’s to be my Lot?   Enter a fiery furnace that eradicates me?   Like Judas Iscariot, disgraced and hung in a tree?   Or be the woman at the well that you set free?   Will I become a violent Hitler or a peaceful Ghandi?   I must be myself, the best that I can.  © David Girard 25/03/15
Read more

Left Port

If right is right what’s left is to fight. This right biased world can be very unfair To the ten percent of us that do not share  The desire for starboard when we just left port. Way out in left field? Perhaps I could be as conformity bleeds abnormal for me. © David Girard 29/03/15
Read more

The Apiary (Plight of the Humble Bees)

Dew you know, of this wee place? It Bee BeeQueen, Fairhaven and Pleasant Hill, Bee Meadowgreen? In nature’s lea may Bee a scene. An active hive, so it seems! Do not be duped, for you must see! Look past the expanse of humanity. Is there a problem? There may not Bee. ‘Trust in God’ and you will see! Fruits borne of labor. The apiary. Beehold a lass toiling hard, Bee side the Bees in her backyard. Her grunts and groans are not alone. A harmonic symphony with the drones! What to name this harvest gold? Something new?  Invoke the auld? Will it be witty?  Will it rhyme? Will it stand the test of time? The dilemma therein is what to call The honey held so dear by all. Is there a problem? There may not Bee. ‘Trust in God’ and you will see! Fruits borne of labor. The apiary. ©-David Girard- -25/10/11-
Read more