A Poetic Pas De Deux Between Frank And plainmama

A Poetic Pas De Deux Between

Frank and plainmama

By

Frank Solanki

An edited version from

Frank’s blog.

I gave birth to a lie and it gave birth to many more.

I watched it multiply till I could stop it no more.

It was all fine until truth decided to come out

And draw a thin line

Between truth and doubt.

The lies were spread, the truth washed them away.

Soon, they were all dead but the scars came to stay.

Now, the lies are gone the truth never picked a side.

Scars are reborn

The mother has died.

 

These words spoke to plainmama and she replied:

plainmama:

 

Truth has healing power. 

It might feel raw right now,

Like ripping off a band aid,

But wounds heal faster

When exposed to the air of truth.

They only fester when covered with lies.

Take care of yourself, my friend.

Give yourself of grace and love

In tough times.

Much love.

 

Frank:

 

Thanks a lot.

 

plainmama:

 

Of course.

And if you need a friend

I’m always here.

 

Frank:

 

I know that.

Hope you are doing good

Too.

 

plainmama:

Trying not to get sick

In a house of illness.

It’s a tough task.

 

Frank:

 

Oh, it is.

 

Plainmama:

 

Yes!

When you are the day care,

Cook and night nurse

Exposure and Exhaustion

Makes the statistics of my

Contracting said illness

Fairly high.

Maybe wine will help?

Is that one of the old remedies?

Just say yes.

 

Frank:

 

Yes.

So who’s the one running sick?

 

Plainmama:

 

3 of 4 boys.

Eldest has held out.

I’m sure he will be barfing tomorrow.

 

Frank:

 

Oh, that’s a tough situation.

 

Plainmama

 

Par for the parenting course.

 

Frank:

 

Haha.  Yes, but I guess it’s worth the memories.

 

Plainmama:

 

Puke does not equal memories.

For Puker or puke cleaner,

Or puke watcher

Or puke smeller

Or in regards to

Puke, barf or vomit.

 

Frank:

 

Oh, I feel your pain.

 

Plainmama:

 

Disgust would be a better word.

There is not much grosser than vomit.

 

Frank:

I’ll talk to you later.

‘Bye.

I Wish I Was A Foreigner

This Poem was published c. 1900

 

I Wish I Was A Foreigner

by

An American

I wish I was a foreigner, I really, really do.

A right down foreign foreigner; pure foreigner through and through;

Because I find Americans, with all of native worth,

Don’t stand one half the chances here with men of foreign birth.

It seems to be unpopular for us to hold a place,

For we are made to give it up to men of foreign race.

The question of necessity and fitness to possess

Must never be considered- who cares for our distress.

Perhaps it is not wicked to be of foreign birth,

Or to mutter a mild protest when an alien wants the earth;

But the latest importation is sure to strike a job,

And be the sooner qualified to strike and lead a mob.

A Dutchman (German) or an Irishman, a Frenchman or a Turk

Comes here to be a voter, and is always given work;

A native born American is here, and here he must stay;

So it matters little how he lives, he cannot get away.

The Spaniard and Bohemian, the Russian and the Pole,

Are looking toward America with longings in the soul,

Because the politicians will receive them with open arms,

And the goddess of our freedom bid them welcome to her charms.

But the law abiding Chinaman from the Celestial shore,

Because he has no franchise, is driven from our shore;

Americans and Chinamen are not in much demand,

The one remains neglected while the other is barred the land.

So I wish I was a Dutchman, or some other foreign cuss

I’d lord it over the natives- who don’t dare to make a fuss,

But my blushes tell the story, I am native to the soil’

So the aliens hold the places- visitors must never toil.