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Musings of a young man

Here we highlight the poetry of Joe Fischer, and perhaps an occasional guest poet.

Poetry: Welcome

I Am Only Made to Write

Taking long, painstaking pains
To finish up the work I owe
And making slow, painstaking gains
Has taught me what I ought to know:
That ants are only made to crawl
And birds are only made for flight
And you are made to draw it all
But I am only made to write.

Before Me

Before me I see a left and a right

And neither will advertise either as best.

However, I've certainly come here tonight

Not by the virtue of having guessed right.

I haven't guessed right but I'm right to have guessed.

Before me I see a city that glows

With patches of darkness between pins of light.

Behind I recall, as in its death-throes,

A sunset more brilliant than pins can compose.

And yet it gives way every day to the night.

A Reason

Is there a reason that the wind

Should pick off leaves and bring them in

To my garage, where they begin

To beautify the mess within?

Is there a reason trees should bring

In birds to trade their leaves for wings?

The tree that gave me everything

Will still be clothed, and now it sings.

Is there a reason things the size

Of cities dominate the skies

Instead of falling down, capsized?

Is there a reason water flies?

Is there a reason clouds should hate

Their hue enough to confiscate

The waves that, when they radiate

At light speed come eight minutes late

And with them change their color scheme

To something out of someone's dream?

How much more content they seem

To blush than block the final beam.

Is anybody looking west

To see the sunset at its best?

I fear that I may have confessed

Too little of my love to rest.

Forfeiture Of Christ

When I claimed the Name,

I claimed the cross of Christ;

The hope, the pain

The joy, the sacrifice.


When I feigned my claim

And feigned forfeiting rights,

I trampled on the Name

And forfeiture of Christ.

Where I Can’t Stay

I woke up where I couldn't stay

And so I spent about a year

In running farther than away

And that is how I wound up here.


Now with what must be miles of ground

Between me and from what I ran,

I take a breath and look around

And find myself where I began.

I Find I'm Tied

I find I'm tied on either side and as the sea's unrest

Grows less and less surmountable, each rope will face a test.

Have you been put here to prevent my hurting someone new?

Is she enough to rescue me from crashing into you?

But any ship left in the slip is left there to be still.

If I don't learn to be still now, perhaps I never will.

The Little Pen

There was a little pen

He went by “Lil P”

There was a little test as well

Who went by “Lil T”


Now Lil P was lonesome 

And so he looked around

To see it he could spot a friend

And Lil T he found!


Said Lil P to Lil T

“Hello, could we be friends?”

Said Lil T heartbreakingly,

“Ah man, I’m really sorry Little Pen but here’s the deal: my scores don’t count for zilch unless they’re done in Number 2 pencil. Again, I’m real sorry but no—no, I don’t think we can really be friends.”


Lil P was sad

But he was not deterred

He came to a computer

And let himself be heard


“Ahoy, Mr. Compu—“

But that was as far as he got.

“WHOA, whoa, whoa, whoa! Please keep away from me! It’s not that I don’t like you or anything but I’m electronic and if you get any ink on me…Man, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Lil P thought, “Maybe not”


By now our little friend

Was just a little scared

It seemed that no one needed him

That no one even cared


“The trouble is my permanence

Once someone uses me

My thoughts can never by erased

Oh well,” sighed Lil P


Across the plains of Desk

A little journal lay

Pretty as a prayer book

She went by “Lil J”


Lil J had thoughts and questions

Drifting through her head

But she had never found a way

To let herself be read

She wished her thoughts were written

And permanently placed

But pencils were no good

Their words could be erased


“I wonder, is there anyone

Who’ll guard my thoughts for me?”

Said Lil J and looked around, and—

“Hello, Lil P!”

If Everything Matters

If everything matters, then why don't we say so?

And if nothing does then how come we get so

upset when the meaninglessness that we claim

as our birthright is taken away?


We're sure when we're happy, we're sure when we're sad

but nobody wants to be sure that they're bad.

Demanding our rights and denying our wrongs,

we cry through our laws and our songs.


So maybe things matter, but if that's the case

Why is it only the pleasant we chase?


If atoms were counted, nowhere in their sum

would it be revealed to us whence we have come.

Science explains all the things we’re made of 

But nothing explains why we love.

Poetry: News
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