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
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


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
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