Submitted by joshua mertz on September 8, 2015
Funny thing about humor
Much of it is sad
Or fraught with pain
Sometimes Humor is taunted
By it's cousin Cruelty
In callous masquerade of amusement
Humor can be logical
Or not
The best is when ideas are
Slapped together until they
Jangle
Irony is not Humor
Although they are related
Through their father, Absurdity
Humor is a bundle of bubbles
A puff of wind
The dance of Attitude and Agility
It cannot be measured or dissected
Humor is Schroediger's cat
Grinning at us from
Outside the box
Funny thing about Humor
It cannot exist
Yet I love to laugh
Submitted by joshua mertz on August 29, 2015
Leaves fallen
Dry memories
Crisp with the autumnal scent
Of the good times
Lost in the debris
Of discarded days
Lost leaves
Blowing into lost corners
That we might hear the crunch
And smell the scent
Of that time when there was love
And we did not argue
Because we did not speak
The tree is bare
The leaves have fallen
The crunch and pungency of lost
Memories rise up
And we see that
We, too, must leave
Submitted by joshua mertz on July 1, 2015
The writing of a sonnet is a pain
That hammers words to fit like blocks of stone
And once it's done the poet feels no gain
For rigid form is cause to stand alone
The modern world throws scansion to the side
To join the midden heap of form and rhyme
Though rhyme persists with clumsy stumbling pride
And hurried steps and couplets out of time
Do poems rise like waves bewitched by shallows?
Or does the loom of language weave its cloth
On ragged frames, on oak trees or on gallows
Or are our words borne, wavelike, on the froth?
Thus poetry has rid itself of form
And passion drives the poet through the storm
Submitted by joshua mertz on June 18, 2015
A Summer Solstice poem
translated from a Northern Druid lay
circa 645-715 CE
It is the Summer Solstice
The crowning of the Light
The greatest day
To sing and play
And share the Spirit's flight
And in this longest lightness
Rejoice in sound and sight
This summerous day
Shall pass away
Returning to the Night
Submitted by joshua mertz on June 12, 2015
Maybe I do believe in love
And it is desire that I need to avoid
But isn't desire one of the main ingredients
In the stew of love?
Or maybe what's wrong is the payoff
That goes sour
Poisoned by time
Or the fire that dwindles
The unmet expectations
The contempt of familiarity
Maybe I believe in chemistry
Devoid of meaning
Yet alive with delight
And possibilities
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