Barefoot Don

A Tribute to Manfred Max-Neef

He walks the mountains, plains and fields

At home with forests, wolves and birds

He’s naked in the power he wields:

The sword of truth; the axe of words

 

He knows the chill of foreign lands

And sighs the loss of good friends passed

He feels the warmth of welcome hands

And beams the joy of love that lasts

 

He’s felt the ire of dictators

And known the grace of humble kings

He’s filled up books and newspapers

And given gifts of voice and wings

 

He warns of theories, now unmasked

That leave the earth and people cursed

He points the way – we all are tasked

With putting needs and nature first

 

He says to see, just close your eyes

To hear, be still and feel your heart

Real changes always wear disguise

And grassroots play a hidden part

 

Then in the quiet hours between

He listens to the tides of Brahms

Or pens and plays a piece he’s dreamed

Or rests within his lover’s arms

 

He’s just a barefoot ‘household’ don

Whose feet have trod the sacred round

He counts success by hearts he’s won

And handshakes from the underground

 

Postscript:

 

Dear Manfred, if you read this ode

You’ll know the gratitude I feel

For our chance meeting on the road

And spokes of friendship on life’s wheel

 

Creative Commons 2010

 

Download

2 The Barefoot Don (Pdf print version)

More Poetry

Poems by title | Poems by theme | Poems by date

 

INFORMATION | Home| Biography | Books | Chapters | Reports | Papers | Articles | Speaking | Contact | INFORMATION
INSPIRATON | Poetry | Art | Prose | Stories | Quotes | Weblog | Photography | Guestbook | Home | INSPIRATION