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November Poetry

Poems from John Hay Poet Society


The President Elect's Private Thoughts the Morning
After the Election

(Written before the election regardless who won)

 

Well now I will be the leader of the free world, sweet.

You know, those running for office are born to compete.

 

We are a country much divided, that point is clear,

but it is the hatred and anger, spreading wildly, I fear.

 

Do twin towers have to violently fall

for patriotism to answer once again the call?

 

How do I bring all this divisiveness together

to free our nation from this restraining tether?

 

Either red or blue, it is all up to you,

I’ll try my best but see what you all can do

 

to unite this land as only freedom can.

This is the reason for president I ran.

 

Dianalee Velie, Newbury NH


 


A Pause After the Fray

Hear the voice of our great nation,

heal our country and her soul,

Breathe the simple quietude of ending

after months of promises on the road.


Suddenly it’s over

finally time to mend,

No more franchise platitudes

time to begin again.

 

Hear the voice of all Americans

those disadvantaged, those well off,

Leverage the power that’s been awarded

fix what’s broken, leave what’s not.

 

David Balford, New London NH

 



Does it Matter

I’m just another baby boomer

Growing Old,

Waking up at 4 and sleeping till 8.

Stretch, drink coffee and yawn

before taking the dog out.

Elvis is a distant memory,

the Beatles still my fav.

Protest days exhausted,

I sigh at trumperica partly in disbelief

while throwing my arms up

as I view cemeteries passing out my passenger window.

Does it matter?

 

Doug Windsor, Georges Mills NH

 



The Morning After

 

Keep the inauguration simple,

                           Keep it short,

                                    Keep it peaceful.

 

Tom Keegan, Bristol NH




Day-After-Elections Reflections of the President-Elect

 

I know my people, my people know me.

I know inside me how most of them feel.

The world was pooh-poohing them, that’s what I see.

I know my people, my people know me.

I’ve got their bellyaches down to a tee:

they’ll trade-in art, for the art of the deal.

I know my people, my people know me—

The world was pooh-poohing them, that’s what I see.

 

I’m the new Ship of State, its rising North Star,

a looming Colossus, bestriding the earth.

Will I be greater than monarchs and czars?

I’m the new Ship of State, its rising North Star.

Will my people follow me, will we go far?

I prize their loyalty, that is their worth.

I’m the new Ship of State, its rising North Star.

Will I be wiser than monarchs and czars?

 

Joan T. Doran, New London NH


 


What's Right

(Written before the election about an imaginary candidate)


I only want to do what’s right,

change the reasons for your plight.

To help the people live with pride,

in themselves, be their guide.

 

I’m now the leader of fifty states,

I hope to influence your fates.

Not with a heavy-handed fist,

but with a well thought out list,

 

Of future laws to improve the lot,

of the ones forever caught,

in the cycle of work and bills.

No, they will not become shills.

 

I promise to lighten the weight,

carried by the ones who wait.

 

Patsy Barrett-King, Newport NH

 



The Morning After

     (Not the President-Elect, Unfortunately)

 

My mind moves across the sky like the gray clouds.

Trees are revealed in their searching fingers as

a cluster fly walks stealthily up the glass.

All is still, inside and out. It’s the morning after. 

 

No color washes through this season of after.

No movement disturbs my unquiet mind.

 

My only recourse is to show a blank face

like the flat side of the white wall,

the smooth cold tile at my feet,

my words echoing, catching on my teeth.

 

My face cannot find the right muscles to smile.

So much smiling before. 

So many promises.

Just hot air rising into the cold sky. 

 

I’m too tired even to rise, although the sun is up. 

The phone is ringing. I reach for it. I’m on automatic 

like the coffee pot spewing my morning 

into my old familiar mug. 

 

The crow arrows past my window 

squawking into the morning.

I will squawk much louder. 

Watch me rise.  


Jennie Pollard, Windsor VT

 



The Private Thoughts of the President Elect the Morning After the Election

 

I leave to political pundits

Editorial comments

Journalists

Talk show hosts

 

Step into my own thoughts

Sadness

Lethargy

Disappointment

 

Feel exhaustion from

Propaganda bombardment

Info-raging

Rudeness

Misogyny

Chaos

Threats

Revenge

 

Fear what’s next

Bracing for our fall into 

Lies

       Anger

                    Hate

 

Shake off fright

Dig into the work of community

Embrace our blue planet

As she convulses with

Storms

Floods

Drought

Fire

 

Vow to cultivate

Joy

Kindness

Civil conversation

Humanity

Mindful of our present reality

Resist

 

Kathleen Skinner Shulman, New London NH

 


 

 


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