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Sunday, September 11, 2011

A Sunday Poem


Insane Cranes

Crane, your insane,
so, so insane you cranes.
That disposition.
Never to be tame.
A quality your fame.
Why no Albatross your being?
Suspicious I am, your blessings.

To think you can defy,
gravity with serenity.
It is but an insane virtue.
Yet you perform so effortlessly,
To defeat that burden.
This defiance a success.
One of many,
your kind enjoys,
over board mine.

So jealous I am your liberties.
Preoccupied
now and forever,
with human obstacles.
Those that burden,
my flight to freedom.
Wright Brothers were so right.
Yet we have failed
miserably,
in comparison your affairs.
As you make flight aloft,
so miraculously.
It beckons more suspicion,
upon your agenda.

Is Newton’s Principia of motion,
So outdated, by your trials and tribulations?
As your awkwardness,
it begs,
upon a prehistoric ritual.
There is no linearity,
your acrobatic mistress.
So heredity must bless,
your
agenda's success.
That freedom on high.
And as I sit grounded,
with frustration,
I get enjoyment,
upon your high.

Amazed when you go aloft.
A miracle, all in unison.
This
entertainment for free,
these modern times.
That is a saving grace,
that defies all.
A Principia of goodwill,
you pass on willingly,
To my insane world,
Ave Maria!

Insane crane?
So, so insane cranes?
If not tame, then truly sane!
CopyRight 2011 MSK/ERP

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