Sunday, September 3, 2017

The Laureate-September (9/11/2001)

Those martyred in the towers,
sixteen years ago,
were sacrificed by terrorists
to show the fear that they can sow.

They hoped their act of violence 
would prove their power to
dictate to our nation
and threaten me and you.

We found that they awakened us
to that which we hold dear...
brought pride in facing crises 
with zeal in lieu of fear.

And every anniversary 
of this so tragic day
we pledge that we will never let
our fervor fade away.

Visit http://allthatrhymes.squarespace.com for more poetry by James E. Cox.

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

The Laureate-The News 83017

Each day as I digest the news,
I try rely on other’s views.
But each and all with bias fail...
for all they say mere déjà vu.


Visit http://allthatrhymes.squarespace.com for more poetry by James E. Cox.

Monday, August 28, 2017

The Laureate-Life's Game 82817

Life poses contests every day,
and oft you choose from shades of gray.
Never give up when options fail
'tis best each time all tints you weigh.


Visit http://allthatrhymes.squarespace.com for more poetry by James E. Cox.

Saturday, August 26, 2017

The Laureate-The Octogenarian

My Pols
I ask that you but tell the truth...
so far I’ve borne all pain.
But when you lie of what’s awry,
I fear those dear may sip champagne.


Visit http://allthatrhymes.squarespace.com for more poetry by James E. Cox.

Thursday, August 24, 2017

The Laureate-Chicago

Chicago is now a doddering town.
My city of birth...and what a letdown.
O’er the years its learned so little...
like years of yore gangs seek renown.

Murder, mayhem, and lawlessness
has left my birthplace in distress.
I suggest you now need find
any kin of Eliot Ness.



Visit http://allthatrhymes.squarespace.com for more poetry by James E. Cox.


Monday, August 21, 2017

The Laureate-Afghanistan

A nation filled with rival clans
who serve those with the highest pay.
Its exports are the poppy plant's 
drug that can cruel death purvey.

For seventeen years we've fought a war
and watched our heroes fight and die,
while their leaders gave our dough
to those on whom we can't rely.

Leave, then stop the flow of drugs
and never again befriend the thugs. 


Visit http://allthatrhymes.squarespace.com for more poetry by James E. Cox.

The Laureate-Protests


When biased clans demand to speak,
known that their words will venom shriek,
‘tis best, I say, you stay away...
let none be roused, except the clique...
unless, of course, you’d add your aye!



Visit http://allthatrhymes.squarespace.com for more poetry by James E. Cox.