Poor Peacocks

What’s Russia without Tchaikovsky, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Shostakovich et al.,

France sans Stendhal, Victor Hugo (Helas!), Bizet, and Proust,

Finland minus Sibelius,

Poland with no Chopin,

England, no Shakespeare,

Ireland short Yeats, Wilde, Swift,

Nicaragua sin Rubén Darío?

You get the drift?

America absent Emily Dickinson, Mark Twain, and Louis Armstrong,

Might not feel all that great for long.

Add your own congregation to this list,

With geniuses to extemporize its gist.

Stripped of their plumes, the nations

Are poor peacocks gazing slack-beaked into the rain,

Which drown . . . no, that’s a turkey tale!

Better than fake mythology are reflective names.

Tyrants and politicians'll be forgotten in a while;

Words, art, and music won't go out of style.

Hoi polloi get jiggy in the common way, meanwhile.

Their hopes are hopeless, for their taste is vile.

Thursday, July 17, 2025