A CALL TO ARMS
This is a call to arms!
I need all writers to pick up a pen,
and I’m not talking about the high-end best selling authors,
oh no— I’m calling out to the daughter that journals
every night about her father’s abusive might.
I’m calling out to the street poet with a passion for rhymes,
but doesn’t have a dime for food of any kind.
I’m calling out to the song writer that strives
to keep the lyrics in time—
only to perform in a bar that looks like a dive.
I’m calling out to the underground aristocrats,
and the flowing jazz cool cats.
I’m calling out to the contemporary philosophers,
and every single Dr. Seuss admirer.
I’m calling out to the telemarketer,
the Evangelic preacher,
the high school English teacher,
and the sophisticated lawyer.
I’m calling out to the mother with a to do list,
and the dreamer with a movie script.
I’m calling out to the stand up comedians,
the biblical heathens,
and the man speaking to high schools
teaching that drinking and driving isn't cool.
I’m calling out to the college students
with weekly assignments.
To those who compose e-mails and have them sent.
To any readers of John Smith’s interpretation
of the Old Testament—
he warned his patrons about God's wrath
and the need to repent.
I’m calling out to anyone whose created a comic book foe,
recited Edgar Allen Poe, memorized Jay-Z’s Black Album,
or was entranced by the Fireside Poets,
and Henry David Thoreau.
I’m calling out to anyone who has typed a blog,
doodled a thought,
or heard “I Have a Dream”
and realized the resistance King fought.
I’m calling out to anyone who has ever placed the tip of a pen
to white parchment.
This is a call to arms!
Pick up the nearest pen, pencil, or mixture of both utensils.
The modern day writers are going to insight a revolution--
not with the pull of a trigger, but the click of a pen.
Writers can change the way we are living!
I need Haiku minutemen to hurl 5-7-5 syllables
like beads at Mardi Gras.
The sergeant majors of metaphors to compare
an umbrella and a rabid animal.
The secret service of similes and sentences
to sentence the ignorant to an education.
We can start a literary invasion—
write proclamations that will help our nation.
I would trade ten-thousand votes
for just one poet,
because they may write in silence,
but their word’s will sing louder than freedom will ever ring!
This is a call to arms!
Pick up a pen and jot your thoughts down!
This is a call to arms!


Apr 4, 2010

He Wants To Be A Pastor!

When We Were Angels by Tommy Welty

When we were angels,
we found gold in the parking lot.
So, on Saturday we explored.

We brought with us all we need;
a shovel,
boots,
lunch.
We walked down the creek,
covering ourselves in mud,
and adventure.

We never found gold
by the time the rains came.
We ran our separate ways.
"See you on Monday!"

Now we are men.
There is no gold,
but faded yellow paint telling us where we go,
slowly baptized
by time.
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1 comment:

  1. UnknownApril 06, 2010 7:33 PM

    love this tommy. almost as much as i love you :) =kate=

    ReplyDelete

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