Category: Poem

Red-winged Blackbird

Poem started 9 Nov 2014, finished 4 Oct 2015.

[Copyright 2015, Michael-Tyrrannis I Saurranno-Schwing. All rights reserved] :

Like the Crow I am black as night,
nothing but my epaulets are bright.
Red my epaulets are,
trimmed in gold like a general’s star.

Some farmers think I tell the other birds the corn is ripe,
but this is just some old wives’ tale tripe.
My wife is dressed in brown and olive drab.
Our food is seeds, frogs, snails, insects, and any grains we can grab.
My beak and legs are yellow you see.
I warn other birds with my male call ‘oakatee”.
If you trespass in my area, then “check” you’ll hear,
but “term-reee” is my normal cheer.

In a cattail marsh is where my nest is seen,
where my wife lays our eggs which are glossy pale blue-green,
with light purple or black spots at the large end which is keen.

I am the Agelaius phoeniceus, the Red-winged Blackbird.

My Wish About The Government Shutdown, written 9 Oct 2013

MY WISH ABOUT THE GOVERNMENT SHUTDOWN

by Michael V. Schwing, copyright 2013
My wish is that from the lowliest House Representative
Through the Senate up to Cousin President Barack Obama, that:…
Whether you think you are to blame,
Or whether you think it’s all a game,
or whether you are Republican or Democrat,
or whether you are bald or wear a hat,
that all you representatives in Washington
remember this important thing:
You work for us voters, not us for you.
Let’s really shut down the government:
Stop collecting all our taxes,
Stop cutting paychecks for politicians,
Stop all the benefits of their labor:
The cars, banquets, perks and passes,
Security guards and free mail,
The planes and trains and all the Holy Grail.
Make their lives like Gilligan’s Island, not a single luxury.
Oh you say that’s not legal!
This Senator must license his beagle.
Like I said: you work for us voters and we taxpayers do not work for you.
We can cut off the allowances and perks for they are only yours when you do your job.
And let me warn you about this continuing.
In November we have elections.
That is when we make our selections.
Government shut down still then ongoing,
I know some Representatives who home will be going.
We will vote out everyone who supports this absurd thing,
That Government can shut down anything.
The people will their government take back,
And send you politicians home with but a gunny sack.
Furthermore, I would want to see,
That the politicians are treated like others in the real world,
Where when you are fired for not doing your job,
Or as you all are acting, like a big fat snob,
That you become ineligible for rehire,
And all your future benefits are forever lost as in a fire.

What Am I? [Ivy Tech Community College Poem]

mostly written 22 Oct 2010, expanded, finalized, and copyright on 14 Oct 2014.

Am I an Ivy-Tech-ian?

A citizen of this place,

until upon my graduation I become a better civilian.

Or am I an Ivy Tech-er?

Belonging to this place.

Or am I just cruising though like a TV channel changer.

 

Or am I an Ivy Tech-nician?

Skilled at solving the problems of everyone around me,

with knowledge and precision.

 

Or am I an Ivy Tech-netium?

Radioactive and decaying.

Everything all around me poisoning and destroying.

 

Or am I an Ivy Tech-nique?

Do God or others use me

to improve the body politic.

 

Or am I an Ivy Tech-tonic plate?

Causing quakes while interfering and interrupting everyone’s lives around me.

Something which they hate.

 

Or am I an Ivy Tech-nocrat?

Running my life and everyone’s around  me

like a Washington bureaucrat.

 

Or am I an Ivy Tech-nical Sergeant?

Skilled at thinking I’m always in control.

But need to learn to submit to the Master Sergeant of all. [God]

 

Or am I an Ivy Tech-nicality?

Just a blip on the screen,

cruising through school till I run into reality.

 

Or am I an Ivy Tech-nicolor?

Brightening all around me,

like the NBC Peacock in color.

 

Or am I an Ivy Tech-nobabble?

Speaking jargon no one understands,

so they think all I do is babble.

 

Or am I an Ivy Tech-nophobe?

Scared of all the new things I may learn.

Then why get an education in turn?

 

Or am I an Ivy Tech-nophile?

Loving all the new things I am learning

and the new ways to knowledge file.

 

Or am I an Ivy Tech-nical knockout?

School or something there has overcome me,

and I have reluctantly become a dropout.

“You Were Always a Real Son To Me”

“You Were Always A Real Son To Me”, copyright 20 Jan 2014
(About a certain Justin D. who knows who he is)

 

You were my mhic mo chroi [pronounced vick ma ch(ach sound)ree]

The “Son of My Heart” in Irish you be.

Ta mo anim istigh thu. [pronounced Ta manim ishtee hu]

In Irish, “My soul is within you.”

Go raibh maith agat [pronounced Gurra mah oggut]. Thank you.

You were always a real son to me.

 

I remember when you used to stay the night,

and you would go to bed without a fight.

And I would watch science fiction TV shows, right.

Like Star Trek, Stargate, and Earth: Final Conflict,

and you would complain they were not cartoons.

Now who else besides me likes science fiction?

You were always a real son to me.

 

I always enjoyed spending time with you,

going to church, McDonald’s, and the park too.

I’ll always remember you yelling across the park to me:

“Look at me, Uncle Mikey!”

You were always a real son to me.

 

I will always be proud of how people saw us playing,

and others in church saw us praying.

And others overheard me “Stop!” “No!” and “I love you” to you saying.

They thought I was your real dad,

because they saw the relationship that we had.

You were always a real son to me.

 

I will always remember your first “Uncle Mikey”,

even if I don’t remember your first “Urrrrrrr!!!!!!!”

It was in the bank in Cub Foods, now Gold’s Gym,

while I was holding you and David Wyatt was with a bank teller.

You said, “Michael, Mike, UNCLE MIKEY!!!”

You were always a real son to me.

 

You were an original Buckeye Bro,

and with David Wyatt and me an original Elephant Bro (Urrrrrrr!!!!!!!).

Happy I was to be your “Uncle Mikey Daddy Bro”,

and later with Dustin Elsbury expanded to “Cousin Uncle Mikey Daddy Bro”,

You were always a real son to me.

 

I had to love you enough to let you grow,

and love you even more to let you go.

You are now an adult, a fully grown man,

but I still enjoy spending time with you when you can.

I hope now that you are free,

that you will always come back to me.

I am truly proud of the man you grew up to be.

You were always a real son to me.

“I Sent to You…”

Note: This poem was originally conceived to be sung to the Advent song “Oh Come, Oh Come, Emmanuel.” But it can stand alone as a poem. My influences are Travis Allen King’s (TAKING) poem “Thanks to You”, especially in separating the good and bad person sections, the Beatitudes [in Bible book of Matthew], and the “Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi”.

I Sent to You… [copyright Michael V. Schwing, 8 Apr 2014]

I sent to you one who needed you for them to pray,
and you prayed for them day after day.
I sent to you one with mental issues,
and you talked, laughed, and cried, sharing a box of tissues.
[Refrain-Good]

I sent to you one who was hungry,
and you fed him and told him about the Bread of Life I be.
I sent to you one who was thirsty,
and you gave a drink to her and taught her about the Water of
Life from Me.
[Refrain-Good]

I sent to you one who was sad,
and you made their heart glad.
I sent to you a potential friend,
and you did their loneliness end.
[Refrain-Good]

I sent to you a homeless person by the way,
and you took him food and wished him a good day.
I came to you disguised as one in need,
and you helped me according to your means.
[Refrain-Good]

[Refrain-Good] Come to me my true and faithful servant, I welcome you into My Father’s house.

_______
I sent to you one who needed you for them to pray,
and you did drive them away.
I sent to you one with mental issues,
and you laughed and mocked them causing them to cry
and need a box of tissues.
[Refrain-Bad]

I sent to you one who was hungry,
and you told them to go to a bakery.
I sent to you one who was thirsty,
and you acted as if she were crazy.
[Refrain-Bad]

I sent to you one who was sad,
and you ripped their heart out like a cad.
I sent to you a potential friend,
and you sent her on her way.
[Refrain-Bad]

I sent to you a homeless person by the way,
and you crossed the street from him to get away.
I came to you disguised as one in need,
and your apathy and hatred caused my heart to bleed.
[Refrain-Bad]

[Refrain-Bad] “You cried to me, “Lord! Lord!” on
the Judgement Day. I know you not, you goats, now go far from me away.”

A Tribute to My Unknown Ancestors Who Are Wrongly Called “The Indians” or “The Red Race” (poem of same rhyme scheme)

written 8 May 2012, copyright Michael-Tyrrannis I Saurranno-Schwing

A Tribute to My Unknown Ancestors Who Are Wrongly Called “The Indians” or “The Red Race”

No European King here ruled or wielded his mace,
but Kings there were, Lords of the Chase.
Who caught bison, deer, and birds by the brace,
who with bows, arrows, spears, bolos, and guns shot like an ace.
The Sons and Daughters of the Forests, Mountains, Plains, and Deserts of this place,
most did live lives of simplicity and grace.

Our God we worshiped with songs in voices of soprano and bass,
We danced with our colorful “war paint” on our face,
while our beautiful dances went from slow to fast pace.

No table in our house had a Chinese vase,
nor was a table covered in fancy lace.
No china, silverware, or crystal goblets did we uncase,
but valuable morals, manners, and oneness with Nature in our hearts did we encase.

Whites, you say our morals and beliefs you do embrace,
but our languages and history you do deface.
By stealing and selling to tourists, our art you debase,
since your ancestors first came here and their shoes did unlace,
you have constantly stolen and polluted our space.

Alas, some think we vanished without a trace,
because our trusting minds you did outpace.
We wish we could our historical steps retrace.

But, Remember, O White Man: though you stole our land without a case,
and our precious people you did displace,
and our languages with English you did replace,
That Our Blood You Never Can Erase!