...

Picked up this pen__________,
to write down a line__________
____________or two______.
Was not sure what to write about ?
Scribbled some figures...
@ * # & !...
Thought they might inspire...
No such luck.
Went to refill my coffee cup...
As it poured out_________,
it came to me...
Wow ! It's Leap Year
____________Pen just leaped_______
back into my hand...
Mind gave it directions...
to follow___________
lines got better______________
as the ink just rolled into forms...
Finally feeling fulfilled...
as time stood still.
Spilling my very thoughts...
... but not my coffee...
as I set the pen down...
_______to rest,
for a spell...
...
Panhead Rod Hatter
Feb. 29, 2024

Time tumbles,
      jagged days falling
            one upon the other,
    filled with beauty,
          opportunity,
                and …
                      stupidity.

Oh, that that glorious
          extra day,
      that comes but
            once every four years,
    would swallow up the
          mind-numbing ignorance
      of the masses,
            that those magical
        twenty-four hours
            —a gift of the cosmos—
        could suck stupidity
            into the void,
                to be transported
        to some distant constellation.

Take not the man,
      the woman,
            nor the child,
  but only their foolishness.
        Should however,
    they cling to their mindless
          words and deeds
      consume them whole,
          cleanse our world
      of the chaos.
          Begin with those
                in power,
      who seek not to serve,
                but to weld their stick,
        still dripping with the
            blood of greed.
    That link …
        stupidity and greed,
    is Sampson strong in its
      pursuit of nothing but
          more,
              more,
                    more,
    lustful want never sated,
        contentment forever elusive,
    misery meted out upon us all.

Oh that a day,
      a single,
          glorious day,
    could free us from
          their ignorant tyranny;
  a day that returns
      every four years
            to help us begin again,
  to clean the slate
          of the shrews that
    multiply in the darkness,
            and feed upon our naivete.

Yes! Let us leap into
      a future without stupid people.
  It is a noble dream,
      but perhaps I too am foolish
          for holding this dream dear,
    for it is written …
          you can’t fix stupid.


https://soundcloud.com/barb-christing/leap-year-cleansing

February’s sanctuary
Fails to bear the summers fairing.
Stars descend to falling sand,
Take shape from Julius’ hand.

They age the days and mark the years
Of you, God’s angel biding here,
With Heaven’s clever bid to dwell
While making earth’s own journey tell:
One part a day each year we store,
To reconcile every fourth,
As if the universe is made
To make your birth a holiday.

By noting every c'lestial turn
In February we confirm
Each dawn is part your day-in-rest,
All twenty-nine that we are blessed.

In leaping years and hours gone
My zeal is February long.
Your world's the sun to me, my love;
This monthlong gift from God above.

2.20.23