"We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, ‘O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?’ Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?” —John Keating (Portrayed by Robin Williams), “Dead Poets Society”

Dehumanize

How inhumane
To look the same
Nameless, faceless
We vanish without traces
One size fits all
United we fall

In this state of mundane
A life pre-arranged
We begin and end
Like fashion trends

Simply put
We’re cookie-cut
Trim our edges
Shape and bake
Flatten our minds
And proselytize

Is it so surprising
When we all see
The same advertising
Buy the same sales pitch
Even if it is
Dehumanizing

Copyright 2014 LitGlob

mph
Bright whites
To red afterglow
Here and gone
Surge and flow
Roar and swish
Rattle and rumble
Whine and zing
Neverending
Between these
Dotted lines
The world shrinks
Time measured
In miles per hour
Shadowed beasts
And mounted masters 
In a high-speed
Highway
Cattle drive

Copyright 2014 LitGlob

(Image credit: http://pixabay.com/en/traffic-highway-lights-night-road-332857/)

I grew up next to a highway.

mph
Bright whites
To red afterglow
Here and gone
Surge and flow
Roar and swish
Rattle and rumble
Whine and zing
Neverending
Between these
Dotted lines
The world shrinks
Time measured
In miles per hour
Shadowed beasts
And mounted masters
In a high-speed
Highway
Cattle drive

Copyright 2014 LitGlob

(Image credit: http://pixabay.com/en/traffic-highway-lights-night-road-332857/)

I grew up next to a highway.

Secret Society

This chill vigil
Candlelit
In darkened park
A seated circle
But for one
To stand and speak
In turn
To pronounce
In rounds
The stirring sounds
Of our emotions
How clandestine
We must seem
What sort of secret society
Indeed
We share secrets
Share all things
In poetry

Copyright 2014 LitGlob

In years past, we poets met and spoke our words by candlelight. Were you there with us?