New poetry for a winter morning

I've been trying to write something new every day, and place in the hands of the world. I've recently posted several new poems on www.poemhunter.com, and the ones I really like, I've posted here.

Here are two new poems for your winter morning!

Morning Peace and Self-reflection

Morning peace and self-reflection

– an apathetic joy –

not caring for gain or worldly wealth,

but feeling joyful in the single moment.

This peace is new,

and welcome.

Strange that I would find this peace

apart from God (as I have known him)

and apart from religion

(the staple fare of most of my life.)

Yet, set adrift from these restraints,

I have found a simple peace and an easy joy

in finding good and kindness in all men,

in all moments,

in this time,

here.

Now.

When I feel fear and anxiety and

find myself in unfruitful rumination,

I have scrambled for the fruitless

pabulum of prayer and self-justification,

when all the while the ease of simple acceptance

and acknowledgement were waiting patiently for my use.

"That they are what they are,"
will quickly easy my heart faster now
than any heartfelt cry for peace or justice
from a god who is removed from the world, and
who seems wholly disinterested and uncaring.    

They Are Looking at Me

Two wide-screen monitors look at me

with blank, black faces

awaiting some input from a dusty keyboard and unused mouse.

These portals for imagination and commerce –

the windows to my research,

my entertainment,

and my means of paying my way in life –

look at me blankly in un-hurried anticipation.

Do they see me as only an instrument of their operation?

Do they think of me as a means for their worldly interactions?

Do they wait in secret anticipation to see my choice of wardrobe each day?

Do they miss me over the long hours of the quiet weekend?

Am I nothing more that the tool – like a keyboard – who brings their adventures to life?

Or, are they simply inanimate objects and I am being too literal and literary?

Perhaps they are only monitors,

and have nothing to interact with me over.

But perhaps they are more…?

I prefer to think the latter.

© 2012 Michael Hunter