A Science Experiment

The proud new owner of a ten-speed bike,
I set off on a cyclist’s hike,

Armed with wristwatch and a bit of math,
to test my speed on the cars’ wide path.

Twenty-six and a half inches proved,
with a minute or so at a reasonable groove

The circumference of the black rubber arc
could be multiplied to my rate since start

Intently bearing down on the wheel’s spinning shadow,
Watching my wrist,the time in a window -

Counting each revolution,flying along,
as feet spun fearlessly, recklessly on.

When much to August’s quirky chagrin,
the bicycle tire found it’s reciprocal twin.

The curve of a blade, a parked snowplow,
threw horse and rider, and creased his brow.

Science’s lesson that day was quick;
not rates or speeds or geometry’s trick!

No, the thing I learned, the physical lecture:
Don’t lose sight of the bigger picture.

Effecting Change

"Better than nothing", or so they say
because it takes the guilt away;
but each of these artificial actions fail
to divert the engine from its rail:

No 'low-fat' label, no 'awareness-building' post
No 'quality time' when quantity's needed most;
Until we've hearkened and truly obeyed
our current course is firmly stayed.

One who surrenders the full hour each day,
who gives choicest attentions, or the whole week's pay,
sees miracles in flight, Sacrifice beyond word,
And a new heading's set, destination assured.

Consequence

I said,

"Bad Choice brings his companions:

Abuse, Depression, Disease, and Death."

Now,

You may silence me,

but not your new-chosen friends.

How Love Lasts

Flushing with emotion, when first there's glance or touch,
or paranoid devotion, it's jealousies and such;
These do not lasting love make, even seek it to undercut.
Instead, union in purpose, restraint in disaccord,
the individual sacrifice for less tangible rewards;
These engender deeper love, and then we find restored
a gaze and feel, commitment that first we started toward.

The Lector's Welfare

Engorged with words, diabetic prose
still wants for sweetness, to overdose;
and overly savory, salty emotions
stress diastolic mental devotion.


Often espoused, by those who’ve tried it
are walking habits and a wholesome diet.
You see, things that reconnect us with earth
are good for our spirits (and for our girth).


And as with unsatisfied gastric gluttony,
our minds demand our textual sobriety.
The lector’s prescription? Trite and true:
Refine your tastes; it’s long overdue.

On Choosing Words

What's love, or hate, or anger, or joy, 
when spoken by the callow boy? 
Borrowed words, stolen by youth, 
that bruise and tear as an untrained tooth. 

They're passing fears, or fearful passions, 
that find expression in vulgar fashions; 
While nobler sentiments, yet unrefined, 
are cultivated in the disciplined mind. 

May finer language grace your tongue, 
hyperbole be quickly shunned, 
your metaphors be tastefully chosen, 
and words born of heat be instantly frozen; 

'Til finding your highest self-expression 
demands not assiduity, but opts for discretion.