By Madison S. Hughes (10.18.2009)

A warm clasp of hands,
His left hand on my shoulder.
Flash, now it’s over.

By Madison S. Hughes (05.30.2009)

Not quite the ides of March,
A day shy of a fortnight before.
Marks the date each year
Of which I abhor.

Unlike Caesar,
Remembered by all.
There was a great man
Unknown after his fall.

Known by few,
And that is too bad.
Greater than many,
He was my Dad.

By Madison S. Hughes (05.25.2009)

Many search,
and fewer succeed.
That ever-eluding happiness,
Just like you and me.

We seek it in fortune,
We seek it in fame.
It’s a vicious cycle,
But rarely a gain.

We take three steps forward,
And two steps back.
We find it in theory,
But rarely in fact.

We chase an illusion,
And mistake it as truth.
This abstraction called happiness,
Seems always aloof.

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By Madison S. Hughes (05.23.2009)

Like grass and the sunflower,
It follows the sun.
It can never be mastered,
And seldom be won.

As with this game,
Such is life.
It’s an endless pursuit,
Of conflict and strife.

This game is ruthless,
And the results widely vary.
Many find it overwhelming,
And others down right scary.

But try, try we may,
One really can’t scoff,
This game, is like life,
It’s a game we call golf.

By Madison S. Hughes (04.29.2009)

I quest for le mot juste
To decide ultimate diction.
Ever seeking truth,
And eschew empyreal fiction.

While the task seems fruitless,
And the time spent endless.
To avoid the vexation,
Is nothing less than horrendous.

By Madison S. Hughes (04.26.2009)

Belief is for the ignorant!
No kind way can it be said.

Faith based on hearsay
From ignorant fools,
A book of myth and fable,
That few have actually read.

Believers are intellectually lazy!
And braggart in how they see.

Belief is cognitively easy,
For it requires no thought.
But to reach disbelief,
Requires intellectual honesty.

By Madison S. Hughes (04.24.2009)

You are the owner,
Of but a brief spark
Of consciousness.

To squander it in faith,
Without reason or logic
Condemns one to ignorance.

By Madison S. Hughes (04.24.2009)

Arguments of many
That’s what I’ve had.
Acquaintances lost,
That’s simply too bad.

They spoke with emotion
In lieu of intellect.
Without use of reason
Their loss is really a benefit.

Growing tired of the ignorance,
And more so the hate.
Slowly but surely,
Their numbers accumulate.

By Madison S. Hughes (04.15.2009)

May one’s quality in life be measured
By the amount of tears shed by the bereaved?

May one’s stature in life be measured
By the amount of coin bequeathed?

Albeit the two are immeasurable
I’m afraid that’s how it’s perceived.

By Madison S. Hughes (04.15.2009)

A thief is sorry that he is to be punished,
Not that he is a thief.

A killer is sorry that he is to be executed,
Not that he is a killer.

So, why do we murder someone,
To show that murder is wrong?