Arlington

See the field of flowers,
Rising from the ground?
Silent, snow-white flowers.
Steady, sad, and sound.
By hundreds they bloom
And watered by blood.
Some grow too soon,
All lost in time’s flood.
They grow for the dead.
A substitute grace
Of sacrifice, love,
And a beloved, missed face.
Like Flanders they cry,
“Look on us and see!
We are the reason
You smile and are free.”
Please don’t forget them
Don’t tread the field blind
Stop to see and smell them
Keep these flowers in mind
Simple surrealism,
They are born of death,
Courage, heroism,
and vows to protect.
Set in a city
Of weak, troubled men,
This graveyard of honor,
White-dressed, recommends
A bravery steep,
A price heavy paid,
Patriotism deep,
And sacrifice made.
Look at the flowers,
How fragile they are.
Each one’s a whisper
Of a country’s scars.
Do they remind us,
Or will they wilt,
No longer define us?
Will we let rust the hilt?
Remember the white flowers
Forever they’ll stand
As symbols of strength
Dear-bought gifts to our land.

–Lacey Deaver

The Trapper

I saw it run across the floor.
But not for long, I quickly swore.
A furry, fuzzy, fattened mouse,
The newest roommate in my house.
He thought he was a sneaky one,
Creeping away with all my crumbs.
But I’d be smarter than this rodent,
And lay some traps that should be potent.
When night fell, I set the bait.
Now the vigil, to watch and wait.
(In honesty I went to bed,
Visions of mice dancing in my head)
All was quiet, with nary a noise.
But on the morrow was cause to rejoice.
No longer a score to settle,
No more would my small intruder meddle.
A home invasion like no other.
That night I caught the mouse’s brother.
May future unwelcome rodents fear
The intrepid she-mouseketeer.

 

–Lacey Deaver

SuperMess

The man of steel came flying down,
Laying waste our little town.
Buildings crashed, the dust was high,
Thanks to Zod and man from the sky.
With S on his chest and grin on his face,
Superman leveled the whole city space.
The battle was long, seeming never to end
As Cal-El faced off with his father’s old friend.
They punched, they hit, they crashed through walls,
Ignoring normal protocols.
Eventually Superman saved the day.
But what a price we had to pay.
While heroes save from villains and stress,
They sure can leave behind a mess.

 

–Lacey Deaver

Give Me Texas

Bring me that sun-dipped horizon,
The sad song of the lone coyote,
Rolling plains with bison,
Where waving prairie grass floats.
Let the softness of a western wind
Carry me to mesas rising.
With every heartbeat I send
My dreams on eagles flying.
Let me stand upon a hill
And drink in the deep blue sky.
Listen to the mockingbird trill,
Finding freedom nothing can buy.
Give me a stallion with spirit,
A truck to chase the road,
A ranch with mountains near it,
And a rifle to lock and load.
The roads to Fort Worth and Austin
Are trails I long have blazed.
The Pecos I have stood in
Where the dust-blown skeet tree sways.
Give me the armadillo
Scouting for his meal.
I’m off to Amarillo
For a cowboy’s heart to steal.
Give me the whole of the western world,
Summed up in cowboy glory,
Within one state of cattle-herded
Horn-toad, rodeo stories.
This is where I want to be,
In the rugged beauty of the West.
America is great, but give me Texas,
The home that I love best.

 

–Lacey Deaver