Guest Post: Viva Obama By Bert Lorenzo

Obama beat McCain handsomely

so those who criticize my president should let him be

and show more respect for democracy.

The people voted for change

and change they should see

but it takes time to make new policy.

June 2009 he improved the economy.

Now everywhere I go I see people spending money.

He reduced unemployment.

Now concert halls, movie houses and sport stadia

sell-out for people’s enjoyment.

Things are fine

but people continue to whine.

They say he’s a Muslim

who secretly practices Islam.

And that he cares more for the lower classes

because he wants to raise the rich’s taxes.

And that he goes too far

when he supports building a mosque near that 9/11 scar.

I say he hasn’t gone far enough.

Obamacare should give us more stuff.

Rumor has it many doctors want to retire or quit.

They say Obama’s healthcare plan’s unfit.

But he should do everything he promised during his campaign

or those who voted for him

did so in vain.

Some who voted for him now feel remorse.

They fear things will get worse.

They elected the Messiah

but now turn their backs on a pariah.

They’ve abandoned hope so easily.

It says more about them

than about my president’s ability.

Constant criticism might make my president weary.

It can be such a bore.

But the critics should remember

in a democracy people should get what they ask for.

So viva Obama!

I still have hope he won’t abandon the fight

and make all that’s wrong in America right.

Copyright Bert Lorenzo, 2010

My Son's Poem

My son wrote this poem and shared it with me tonight. He warned me before reading it that I would cry. He was right...

Where I am From

I am from a place of long beaches and soft sand,

from never ending oceans in every direction.

I am from aromas of sizzling Croquetas and Papa.

From intense heat and cool breezes,

fresh cut grass and orange baseball fields.

I am from the front seat of an 83 mustang,

twelve hour drives and welcome signs every three hours.

From pencil marks on the door,

and rain drops falling outside my window.

I am from my grandmother’s living room,

fresh lavender and violets.

I am from beeps and dogs barking,

heavy traffic and anger.

I am from a place of freedom,

where I have only my freedom.

I am from towns like Gatlinburg, Tennessee,

Where fireworks, people, happiness and fun can be felt many new years later.

I am from massive pools and water parks,

From salsa music to Angus Young’s electric guitar.

I am from a cul-de-sac and pavement,

And my scarlet bicycle and a yellow fire hydrant.

I am from a broken boat lost at sea,

with hours of work and fiber glass.

The cuts and blood put in,

Along with the sanding and building.

I am from annoying Cuban restaurants,

with hundreds of customers.

From those long road trips with Elton John and Pearl Jam,

and only the night sky and a dark figure to keep me company.

The Quiet Noise

Quietly the noise arrives.
Surrounding me.
Above, behind and below.

Slowly it moves without warning and gently
Wraps its arms around me.
Although unseen and unknown, I recognize its face.

My heart welcomes the visitor.
And without hesitation my spirit drinks.
Replenishing my soul
and forever leaving its imprint, it flies away.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

by
Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake,
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep,
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.