Here they come
one by one
through portals between
reality and formality,
fairy tales and disbelief,
Santa and Madoff…

“Love them all–
they’ll learn better”

Really? And what about me?
Shall I be Silverstein’s
Giving Tree?

Of course, there’s love enough
to go around
but time?
How, now brown cow?

“Show them you care”
can not be false to me

Let me walk in and out
Love one or two
just so well
the rest, smile and send them
on their way
with just a piece
of me in tow.

I’ll love my kindred souls,
My family, too
but all one hundred twenty souls times twenty
I did not sign up to be a Saint.
That’s ironic, is it not?
A Saint, indeed,
is what I’m not.

Didn't Peter Parker feel this way? Am I shirking my duty?

If I Could Change the World

I wouldn’t.
Not really, anyway.
I could wipe out painfully
cliched poverty or
rid the planet of hubris
or make airline travel free.

But why would I take away
a chance for someone to
learn the joy of giving,
to learn humility,
to learn to work for
etickets to Paris,
or Prague,
or Portland?

I wouldn’t
because there exists
nothing more beautiful
than a sunset near the water
a glacier in the morning,
the San Francisco skyline from
across the bay.

Yes, wars and congress
are terrible reminders
that it’s not a perfect place
But I wouldn’t change the
world, if it meant I
could not experience grace.

Juxtapose the bad in life,
like traffic jams when you’re in a hurry
and men who hold grudges for more than
a fortnight
and the same stupid racism that seeps out
in drunken baseball brawls


that moment you passed your driving test,
or were forgiven or gave forgiveness
or saw the beautiful difference in
another face and said, “I can’t wait
to learn something from you.”

It’s altogether too tempting
to say, “Change the world,”
then conveniently give up the hunt
for a better, happy life.

If I could change the world,
I really wouldn’t, at least not much–
I’d say, “I’m sorry that it’s not just
right,” then try my best to lend a hand
and pray to God
He’d fix it.

What's there to change off the coast of Carmel?

Sacrifices too Large to Ignor

The dark side speaks a veritable plethora
of acceptable offerings

Only an idiot would try to slight God
and offer something else
How vain.
How insincere.

How often do the offerings lack
The proper spirit

And then there’s the Pinewood Derby sacrifice

That will go unnoticed except by the little one who missed you.

Don’t miss him.

enter with caution

This blog is a collecting ground of the poetry written by Kerry Mohnike.  She does not believe that this poetry is particularly good nor particularly interesting to anyone.  It is composed only to help her relieve stress.  Feel free to comment or share your own writing. Although I am a veteran English teacher, I do not intend this to be academic in any way.  In fact, for the purposes of these entries, I wish I weren’t an English teacher.