Art-Colored Glasses

Original poetry, essays, artworks, photographs & musings on whatever moves me…

High Hubris among the Lowbrow

I, like the mighty John Fall-staff, may fall, the butt of others’ laugh,

If I heed not the warning signs, and slip in traps, believe the lines

Yarned by slick liars, kind and not, that tie me in knots I’ve dumbly wrought

Myself; if I would puff and preen, I’ll skid and splat upon the green

In front of wiser fools in stocks, caught up in the snares of my own locks.

Like old Sir John, I’ll meet my doom

If I think me the smartest in the room.

A Whiff of Happiness

While all you two-legs types are mired

And wallowing in wintry fear,

I see spring’s hints and am inspired

To smell the happiness from here

What gain or merit mankind finds

In only frigid, dormant joy,

When you could wag those sad behinds,

Dance forward, every girl and boy—

Hold on to sorrow if you must,

While I lap up those thrills made dear

By breaking through the frozen dust:

I smell the happiness from here!