Monday, April 1, 2013

Four Letter Word



A four letter word
He waited to hear His Father shout it.
Laying still in the cold and dark
Where fear seemed to be living for eternity
Nightmares, demons, and haunts
Surrounded Him as the gates of hell were closing.
He may have been afraid,
Or He may have been a brave Son.
Just before His Father spoke the four letter word
That struck through that eternal moment
"Rise,"
Then the stone rolled away.


4-1-13

Friday, September 21, 2012

Against Odds

Having a dream
does not always ensure
a reality delivered.
I have a dream.

A plot, a shot
and dreams die in spilt blood
leaving words admired today.
I have a dream.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Murder of the Fogels


Forget and ignore the world says
Over popular media connections.
Get on with life and live your dreams.
Even the Rabbi said, “Let the dead bury the dead”
Live, you are half a world away.

Men and women die
Under the flag of David’s freedom.
Rising in the dark of night
Devils and murdering cowards feel strong.
Even as tiny fist clenched in pain,
Rivers of blood from stabs and slashes drained.
Somewhere seeing five, He holds back the Angel’s sword for now.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

80's Day (2nd Draft)

The 80’s
big hair, big bands, metal ballads and parachute pants.
Cable television, just over the horizon
Don Johnson, Bo Derek - never growing old
Whitesnake, Van Halen, Michael – young
Eight tracks, records out to cassette tapes.
Reagan offered hope
Communist offered doom
Amazed by DOS, stunned by Windows
Typewriters to computers.

80’s day
A celebration
Where’s the beef, Like a Virgin, headbands
Big hair is big wigs,
parachute pants costumes
Going retro
Saying, “I like the old stuff.”
Spandex, leg warmers
wondering about music
on MTV.

{This is an updated version of "80's Day" found below. Feedback would be appreciated and I hope you enjoy the changes.}

Saturday, May 15, 2010

80's Day

I remember 50’s day
in the 80’s when we had it all
big hair, big bands, metal ballads and parachute pants.
Cable television, just over the horizon

We were unique, never changing like Magnum P.I.
Don Johnson and Bo Derek were never growing old
Whitesnake, Van Halen, and Michael before he was weird and still cool.
Eight tracks and records died to cassette tapes.

Reagan was going to save us all
While the Terminator reminded us, we were doomed
We were in awe by DOS and stunned by Windows
Computers were innovative, while we typed on typewriters

Now they have an 80’s day
Where’s the beef, Like a Virgin, and headbands
It’s all retro now with spandex and leg warmers.
Foreign to a generation who never saw the music on MTV.



5-12-2010

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Bear

The mightiest of animals in the woods.
It is said that when a bear falls,
even the trees take notice.
Graceful and free in life.
Humbled and stilled in death.
From birth,
a cry distinguishable
always
until extinguished
by death.
Throughout the woods the bear is heard
leaving prints
where greatness roamed.
For all the ones gone ahead,
and those still to go,
we will not forget the bear.
The mightiest of animals in the woods.


The above poem was written after visiting a Facebook group started by Susan Haley for all former students of Sylvan Hills High School in Sherwood, Arkansas who have died. Susan has done a fantastic job at pulling this group together and it reminded me not only of lost friends, but also of the "prints" those friends leave behind on our lives and the world as a whole. This poem is for all SHHS Bears and Susan.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

1963

So your work exceeded
you, and
like those before with
very little
in the world, you left
a masterpiece growing.

People argue your
life
a fact you might find amusing
the words reach out to immortality
honed by your graceful use.

At the last moments, in the month of hearts,
you escaped the world you described.
You got it write that time; starting an effect.

Could have been a mentor,
Instead; brilliant, voiceless works of words.



12-17-2009

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Warsaw Pictures

I am drawn to chaotic images of people in Warsaw
lives shredded, torn, destroyed for
Hate.

Jew Families, Jew Children, Jew Husbands,
fathers, wives, mothers, friends, brothers, sisters
dying and dead.

Pictures stare at me, grab me, pull me
back
to their time, their story

Men look stressed, knowing.
Women look hopeful, regretting.

Children, thrown to the streets.
Parents dying for faith, and blood.

Hate is powerful.
I Hate those who hated you and
seek forgiveness for that emotion.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Life today

Yesterday, when I was young,
reminds me of music I once heard
and I can imagine my life being that song.
When I was young, I had the world spread out for me.

I dreamed of being a spaceman,
a cowboy, an army man, a fighter pilot
maybe even a policeman or a firefighter
and at times I knew I could be President.

Growing a little older, those dreams changed
doctor, teacher, or businessman
started to occupy my plans as I considered my
options and decided to write.

With thoughts of scripts, novels, shorts, and poetry
it was easy to see myself doing that.
Suddenly, I was older
and what I decided turned to how I would survive.

In the end there is no lake house, or hut by the sea
where typewriters and keyboards
keep me up through nights of writing.
Kids, responsibilities, and bills have become life today.

2009 Clinton S. Thomas

Friday, September 11, 2009

We Complain

We complain
unemployment is up
the economy is dying
the stock markets down.
a recession is around

Burma
villages disappear
genocide thrives
travel is to survive

Darfur
forced to kill
raped, tortured to break the will

Still, we complain?

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Without Courage

Without courage I walk out into a cold,
cruel world
It takes guts, I once heard someone say and I have to wonder,
whose guts?
I am afraid that time has robbed me of that fearless,
conquering youth.
As worries about broken bones, injuries and lost time at work prevail,
courage fails.
I become afraid, forget courage and convince myself it is simply
mature caution.


© Clinton Thomas, 2009

Saturday, August 22, 2009

The Play

At the curtain it’s proclaimed, the world is a stage and each of us play a part.
I have to wonder how I am doing, playing at my part.
It could be that I am in a role, and at the end I will win.
Maybe I am just pretending, and someone else will win.
Finally at the final scene, it is always someone else who wrote the script.
I will try, but ultimately cannot change the contents of that script.

© Clinton Thomas, 2009

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Internet games

Internet games leap at my attention
Like pong, tennis, and asteroids did
Black and white filled the television screen
With bleeps as the digital ball bounced
Around
But now the colors advance me into
A realm of stunted imagination
I no longer have to paint in my mind
the games can fill the screen in my head
With colors, and sounds beyond my dream’s realm.

© Clinton Thomas, 2009

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Childhood Transition

I played when I was five years old.
I was young and freedom was free.
Then the limits of life took hold.
All of the demands soon robbed me.
And memories of play grew cold.


© 2009 Clinton Thomas

Archie

I never had a dog-named Spot
or Red or Lassie.
Had an Archie.
Named after checkout line comics.
He had black fur
there were no spots.
He ran, he played, he kept my childhood company
until his age advanced past mine,
and time
caught up with his playful spirit.
I never had a dog-named Spot.
Had a great dog-named Archie


© 2009 Clinton Thomas

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Never allowed to play

They were never allowed to play
only stripped of dignity and life.
Their short existence too much for a master race
to stand
Led by a star to travel toward
gas, gun, and graves
that became the last toys in this life.

Never could they have imagined
a greater evil than that nameless party at the
zenith of a nations unspeakable history which
intelligence demands its name to be hidden here.

But now their names are lost
divided right to left and left to
Death.
To be a Jew was to wear a badge of honor
because we will never forget that
they were never allowed to play.




Holocaust Remembrance 2006

Beneath The Grove of Trees

Looking into their eyes, I’ve wondered if they knew?
Did they understand that the time beneath the grove of trees was their last?
Children played, old men talked, and women handed out bread
Soon they lined up and marched like good Jews

They carried clothing, suitcases, toys,
the things they brought on the train ride from home.
Coats, hats, scarfs, and shoes, socks, undergarments
treasures to those conducting the day.

Home, roundup, train, gun, then a pleasant place beneath the grove of trees
Some may have asked what it all could mean
Stand tall little ones as you walk, old ones lift up your chins
mothers look brave for the photographs, soon it will be all that’s left.

Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty
the decades that roll on and the photographs remain.
Looking into their eyes, I have to wonder if they knew?
Did they understand that the time beneath the grove of trees was their last?

Their faces, their eyes, their fear, their common star
reminds us today that they could not understand.
We know that the time beneath the grove of trees was their last
and photographs remain with us to speak out Never Again!

Clinton Thomas ©2008

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Cartoon Vitamins

Below is Cartoon Vitamins. I prepared this poem after my doctor told me I needed some annual exams now that I'm... well, let's just say a little older. My doctor, whom I'm certain is younger than me, also recommended that I take a vitamin daily. I began to remember those various vitamins that I had taken as a child with all sorts of cartoon characters and dinosaurs on them. It actually started a flood of good memories going back to childhood and progressing through the years. This is a first draft that I wrote, made a few changes on and submitted here. I'd appreciate your review, input, and/or comments, but more importantly I am thankful and humbled that you have taken the time to read it in this crazy world we all live in. Thank you.



Cartoon Vitamins


One year, two year, three year
they pass so quickly,
it seemed I was a child,
teenager,
young adult,
man,
all before I knew what happened.

I wanted to be adult
and now I reach for childhood
Elementary, Junior High, High School and
College
a twenty-year reunion
a glance at the past that’s gone.

Nothing changes, everything changes
my hair changing now
my body changing too
vitamins the doctors recommend now with test
Invasive, odd, strange and reserved test for other, older people.

I am those older people now
it has all changed
but I still remember cartoon vitamins
they tasted grape.


© Clint Thomas, 2009

Visiting Section 60

I have to wonder, if sixty years from now they’ll still visit 60.
where those fallen for freedom lay sleeping and surrounded.
It’s called the saddest acre in America
with beer bottles, dog tags, hot sauce, and rocks.

Each stone tells a story as it stands shamelessly out of the ground.
A father, mother, friend, cousin.
A co-worker, son, daughter, but more a life.
I have to wonder, as small children leave their toys,
will they still come sixty years from now to sad section 60?

© Clinton Thomas, 2009 and dedicated to those who serve for my freedom.

Long Hours

Long hours slip by slowly with each passing tick of the clock.
Time clicks.
Minutes seem to drag out toward an unreachable eternity.
Seconds, to minutes, and then hours
But when it is over
we are surprised at how
short
long hours really were with each passing tick of the clock.


© Clinton Thomas, 2009
(1st Draft)