Down the Hill

Jack and Jill went off to school,

but each to a different place,

Jack to be an engineer

and Jill to play string bass.

Jack has learned just how to howdy

every Aggie he may meet.

Jill on some nights may get rowdy

down on Austin’s weird Sixth Street.

Last spring break took both to Corpus,

playing in each school’s beach games.

Those broke down into a circus.

Drinking was their truer aim.

Morning sun above the sand,

soon revealed the fate of each:

Jack marooned on Orange strand,

stranded Jill on Maroon beach.

Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.

Hidden in Simplicity

Aristotle taught that rocks will fall

because down is where they belong,

His theory was approved by all

as incontrovertibly strong.

A dropped rock must fall to the earth.

We later learned that the moon’s a rock

that stays in its orbit, secure.

When Armstrong and Aldrin took a walk

upon its desolate contour,

a dropped rock would hit lunar dirt.

Newton’s the source of this rock fact,

but hold the phone! That’s not the end.

Einstein revealed what Newton lacked:

Falling's caused by a space-time bend.

A dropped rock follows the curve.

Thus we know, self-evident fact

is waiting yet to be exposed

as less than perfectly exact

by better truth yet undisclosed.

A dropped fact should lose its worth.

Whenever it’s election season,

with speakers waxing eloquent,

any who advance the reason,

"It's simple and self-evident,”

have dropped no more than careless words.

Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.

Farewell to Old Shoes

Is there anything sadder than the day

when you have no choice but to throw away

that favorite pair of shoes

you really hate to lose?

Perhaps it's the day when the evening news

at last makes you need to revise your views

of leaders you approve,

who now should be removed.

Or the day when you learn you have to move,

for new floodplain stats have emerged to prove

the maps no longer true.

You don’t know what to do.

Well, now that I think, I'm not all that blue

about the nuisance of a defunct shoe.

I’ll toss those shoes today.

Yeah, that'll be okay.

Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.