I am a former teacher, a full-time KC Royals fan, and an aspiring voice of reason in these politically charged times.  My goal in life is to write something my children will not throw away when I die.  My poems have previously appeared in The Rockhurst Review, Straylight, and Triggerfish, among a handful of others.  I invite you to follow me on twitter at @shatfield126.
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On the Downbeat


We'll start, most times with no apparent cause,
To sing in different rooms each other's song
And stop, as though on cue, then fill the pause
With standard quips, like marriage lasts too long.
I hum the rest and note that history
Records us sounding better every year,
So much in tune that even when off-key
The single voice we share astounds the ear.
But sometimes late at night in bed I think
(As every cover slides across the bed)
About the past, and one more time lip-sync
The solo lyric running through my head.
The audience applauds a good duet;
We like to hear applause.  And yet (and yet).
 
 
 
 

Rhyme for David
 

My oldest points to monsters at the plate,
The men who club the ball a quarter mile,
And says he wants to pitch—he's only eight—  
Then wonders why his notion makes me smile.
I smile because I want my son to know
He doesn't need to play the hero game;
From bleachers he can cheer the shaft and bow,
And safe at home avoid the dragon's flame.
I smile because his dream makes me afraid
He only wants to pitch to please his dad;
That lacking model knights, or dads to trade,
He'll end his quest too soon and end up sad.
I smile, and smiling hope the boy will see
He could do worse than learn to smile like me.