A long time ago, when I was but a child,
I saw things more easily, more clear, at
Least in my child’s mind, the mind of
A child being so open, so promising,
And promises always dissolve into a
Stubborn unreality when one grows up.
Grown ups don’t see the world like a
Child does, they complicate things
Like their reasons for wars, wars, those
Things in which children would never abide,
A child would never start wars or leave
Potholes in roads, like the unpaved
Roads that embarrass the realtor who is
Bent on selling some grandfather’s cherished
Farm. Family farms, also like a child’s
Mind, a thing of the past: Farms are now
Huge conglomerates, sowing hybrid seeds,
Crossbred cattle, sitting in lush green
Pastures in drought-laden California: Poor
California, where the average family uses
Dishwater to water their remaining flowers,
While the grass withers away to a dull brown:
Where dark green artificial turf fills front yards
With a smooth synthetic sameness, like the
Rhetoric of politicians whose, same lies, cover
The whole land with a fetid smell, a smell
Of fear and ignorance, just like the fear-
Peddling pundits with huge salaries who spew
Terror based on a calloused disregard for truth.
Truth, the common core of a child’s naïve mind, a
Mind pure and innocent, untainted with the
Biased guidance of educated grownups.
James G Piatt
James, a retired professor and octogenarian, is a pushcart and best of web nominee. He has published 3 collections of poetry, “The Silent Pond” (2012), “Ancient Rhythms,” (2014), and “LIGHT,” (2016), and over 1,000 poems, in such magazines as Global Poetry, Westward Quarterly, Miller’s Pond, Poetic Diversity, American Aesthetic, Penwood, Gold Dust Poetry, Scarlet Leaf, The Linnet’s Wings and over 120 others. His fourth collection of poetry will be released this year. He earned his BS and MA from California State Polytechnic University, and his doctorate from BYU.