Turmoil

Turmoil

By Mark Ryan

The world is steeped in turmoil

The constant fight over more oil

First to curb mass destruction

Later to find the wrong deduction

Now there is world jihad

Against non believers, it's so sad

Why can't we just live in peace

And stop the conflict at least

Belgium, Paris, Orlando

It's around the world we go

Killing for killing sake

Another life they take

Can't we just have equality

And all live in harmony

The Clothesline

The Clothesline - by Mark Ryan

I could hear the rooster crow at the crack of dawn.

My dreams would have to wait till the daylight was gone.

Up with the sun to start my chores.

Washing the clothes and waxing the floors.

The ringer washing machine was full to the brim.

You couldn’t put any more clothes in.

After the washing cycle the clothes spun dry.

And the spinning stopped at the blink of an eye.

You could see the water empty into the sink.

Now squeeze the last drop through the ringer quick as a wink.

Out the back window the clothesline was strung.

To the back yard tree the clothes would be hung.

With clothes pins a plenty the linens were draped on the line.

To dry in the sun on the rope to the tree would be just fine.

Each season gave the clothes a unique smell.

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter you could always tell.

But Winter was the most adored.

Pulling in the dried clothes stiff as a board.

All of a sudden the pulley let go.

And the clothesline hung loose as the wind did blow.

I called my young boy to climb the distant tree.

And rehang the rope that now hung free.

Like a monkey my young man hopped from limb to limb.

Retying the loose rope to the pulley nice and trim.

The line was now ready to support the full load.

Thanks to my boy who hoped off the tree like a jumping toad.

The Drought

The Drought
By Mark Ryan

This was the summer with no rain in sight.
The garden crops all shriveled from the wilting blight.
The farm animals all gathered at the empty trough.
Their throats all parched as they sighed with a cough.
Not a drop to drink as the spigot ran dry.
All the dust accumulating in the corners of their eye.
But after weeks of dry air the clouds did brew.
From out of the west and through the valley a storm grew.
Black nimbus spread across the sky as the wind did blow.
The clouds filled the sky and thunderheads did grow.
You could see the flash of lightning illuminate the sky.
And then the clap of thunder gave a loud cry.
Finally the torrential rain was about to arrive.
And allow living creatures to grow and survive.
The drops began to fall from the heaven above.
A good soaking of water we would all love.
But to our surprise the drops fizzled out.
As we all frowned with a disappointed pout.

A Running Mate

A Running Mate
By Mark Ryan

The Donald picked a running mate
Which will surely seal his fate
He chose governor Mike Pence
Who will help build the giant fence
Or is it a huge wall
Can anyone recall
Getting Mexico to pay the freight
By installing a toll gate
Over, under or through they go
Those that work the fields that grow
No gringo would choose such toil
They would rather drink boiling oil

The Garden Fence

Garden Fence
By Mark Ryan


As I watch my garden grow
The tomato vines move to and fro
A gentle breeze whispers by
As hungry critters give me the eye
They dream of one big bite
In the quiet of the dark night
But I have built a high fence
To stop their friendly pretense
With electric wire to give a shock
And stop the pillaging of the flock
But I leave the lawn clover nearby
For my garden critters to satisfy