The Black Wall © 2018 Vernon Miles Kerr At the end of Life’s path There’s a black granite wall which is polished and smooth And cannot be seen through. Though it is opaque with tenacious opacity It gladly reflects back our opinions of Eternity.
Yin and Yang Revisited © 2018 Vernon Miles Kerr I thought it might be time to revisit my 2014 poem, “Yin and Yang,” given the ensuing four years of world and personal events. The poem, rather “dashed-off” in a flash of inspiration and never really forged and honed, as it should have been, still conveys… Read More Poetry | Yin and Yang Revisited
Venus the Cruel © 2018 Vernon Miles Kerr You are so like your sparkling, evening namesake, (Long imagined a tropical paradise, But now revealed a sulfurous hell.) And you, are so unlike your cool, smooth. Armless, lovely, marble depiction. You, with your demonic cherubim Ranging the Earth, Puncturing the skin of the unwary With… Read More Poetry | Venus the Cruel
What Purpose…Everything? © 2018 Vernon Miles Kerr What purpose would everything serve An eternal, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent Creator? What purpose, anything, temporary? But all is temporary: From the far-flung Galaxies To our grinding continental plates, To the squalling infant at birth. All, temporary; All, here-today; gone-tomorrow. When the sun has grown to scorch the Earth… Read More Poetry | What Purpose…Everything?
Hiding Light Under a Bushel Basket © 2017 Vernon Miles Kerr Luke 11:33 | “No man, when he hath lighted a candle, putteth it in a secret place, neither under a bushel, but on a candlestick, that they which come in may see the light.” Even for an agnostic, a lot of wisdom can be gained… Read More Criticism | Hiding Light Under a Bushel Basket
Fluidics © 2017 Vernon Miles Kerr Energy, Spirit, Love, Flow outward, Ever expanding. Power, Influence, Conceit, Flow inward, Only compacting.
Internecine © 2017 Vernon Miles Kerr Are all families dysfunctional? Are any not? Thanksgiving beckons. Love draws, but fear impedes. We go anyway, Putting away ancient hurts And hoping for the best — Hugs and howdies. The mashed-potatoes go ’round, Cranberries and turkey too. We hold our tongues Until alcohol loosens them And dinner erupts… Read More Poetry | Internecine