Just before the world ends cockroaches, horseshoe crabs, velvet worms and millipedes shall gather in one place. Perhaps atop a tower of rubble, or a desecrated piece of earth where once redwoods stood. They are the superior ones.
Earth’s five remaining humans grovel nearby, scarred by cancers, and unspeakable genetic defects. Expected, given their disregard for the natural good. They drool pathetically. Neon spittle sans words, drips from radioactive tinged lips.
The superiors, once considered the vilest, issue only three words: You were warned.
Sincere apologies to Maya Angelou. Day 18 NaPoWriMo’s prompt was to take a chapter name from a book of poetry and respond to it in a poem. One chapter in Maya Angelou: The Complete Poetry is titled “Just Before the World Ends” which I used as the first line of this poem. For whatever reason, my mind went to the other side today. The creatures names are some that have existed for millions of years. Apologies. I promise, tomorrow will be sunny again!
Winds ripple wind chimes sing I sit basking in autumn sun.
Winds howl news spews discordance I cringe in easy chair.
Storm breaks Covid strikes hard I blink in disbelief.
Where is the calm as sirens scream cross seas? God help us all.
I am usually a Pollyanna…..but these times can test our frame of mind and make us feel the gloom and doom. I choose to write out my feelings. It is a way to rid me of those I do not want to harbor. Having done that, I now shall smile with hope. May we all somehow do our part to brush away the storms that seem to surround us these days; and pray for those who are caught up in them and suffering in these times.
PROMPT FROM TOADS FOR April 30: The final day of National Poetry Month 2020 “A few minutes from now, you will lose all means of communication with humanity. You will not die, but will no longer be able to interact with the world. Whats the last thing you say?”
Entombed in silence,
in diaphanous gauze,
but nothing to see.
Nor can I hear.
when it is only me.
only an aperture to my mind.
And so I choose to hum
not aloud, but in my mind.
Until my head is screaming
screaming that song. What the world needs now
is love, sweet love.
It is too late.
And shared with dVerse, the virtual put for poets, where it’s OLN Thursday.
Take a moment – the newcaster is on for just a moment…then comes the video at about 26 or 28 seconds in…..it is incredibly uplifting! I PROMISE you will love it! A wonderful piece to listen to as we end NAPOWRIMO 2020!
Lady in Red,
Ruler of the University.
Guardian to extraterrestrials,
She sets the rules.
Lanes within which to live.
All played nicely
until humans did not.
They selectively listened.
She gave warnings.
Melted ice shelves
raised ocean levels
Cried foul many a time.
Still their souls eroded.
While others flourished
humans seemed to rot.
They battered earth,
debased each other.
Lady in Red,
All Seeing One.
What could she do
but plead, cajole?
Demand loudly, STOP.
They did not.
And with breaking heart
she raised her arm,
Flung them from the field
into suffocating darkness.
Earth and all her humans,
banished from the cosmos.
and even shape-shifters
watched and learned.
And the Lady in Red wept
for their inhumanity,
for the world.
Day 11 of National Poetry Writing Month. Today Toads asks us to choose one of the Russian sci-fi posters provided in the prompt, and write a poem about it. I found this challenging . . . not in my comfort zone.
What if I became you?
A three-letter being instead of a one.
Not won but lost.
In your shoes with one lost sole.
A lost soul.
What if you became them?
A four-letter being instead of a three.
Not a one. Never won.
You as them. Not allowed in.
On the other side.
Outside, like them.
The other’s side.
Not here. Never here.
What if you were them?
You, an other.
Merril opens the new year at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. She asks us to consider time and space and what if. Her prompt: “What if you – or someone else – or some THING else – took that less or more-traveled path? Would it make a difference? Will it make a difference? Look backward, forward, inside, and out. Then wonder, what if?” Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop by and begin your 2019 by imbibing some words today!
Brown girl dreaming,
tattered ribbons woven
through dark tresses.
She walks in beauty
always plodding upstream,
seeking answers to secrets
from the center of the world.
Oh, to make a joyful noise
that all might hear in high fidelity.
Shout love triumphs hate.
One hundred white daffodils
strewn upon blood soaked streets
could turn a pinkish hue.
Become peace roses beneath our feet.
Oh for those inalienable rights
to be shared amongst us all.
Beyond the hour of land divided,
us and them transformed to we.
To prosper, pain free,
beyond this faithful and virtuous night
into and during every living day.
Or was that Declaration,
that torch held high
to those across the seas . . .
were those just words and symbols?
The happiness project
never intended to be shared,
never meant to be?
August 9th is National Book Lovers Dayand National Hand Holding Day, International Day of the Word’s Indigenous People, National Rice Pudding Day, and National Polka Day! It’s also OLN (Open Link Night) at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Folks can post one poem of their choosing – any form, any topic.
In honor of National Book Lovers Day, I’ve posted a “book spine” poem written with book titles, all from the bookshelf on my desk. Reread the poem, and you’ll find these titles, in this order:
brown girl dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson Ribbons – Spring/Summer 2017: Vol. 13, No. 2 (Tanka Society publication) she walks in beauty (A Woman’s Journey Through Poems) by Caroline Kennedy Upstream by Mary Oliver Secrets from the Center of the World by Joy Harjo and Stephen Strom Joyful Noise (Poems for Two Voices) by Paul Fleischman High Fidelity by Nick Hornby A Hundred White Daffodils by Jane Kenyon The Hour of Land by Terry Tempest Williams Pain Free by Pete Egoscue Faithful and Virtuous Night by Louise Gluck The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin
there are days i can be in a haze. a daze. or a funk phase. i seem to be addicted to twenty-four-seven news. seams unravelling. politics, shootings, kapoho buried in lava. earth shudders, smolders in unrest. seems everywhere.
one day this week i should go cold turkey. weak? just do it. a day without news. without gnus. there are no gnus in boston. my phone as phone only. ear to the metal. eyes won’t smolder. just ears, if I get a hotty call.
nature irked, smolders
belches red, spills, spews lava
tourist season be damned
It’s Haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Jill asks us to try our hand at avant-garde poetry — to write an unventional haibun. Traditional Haibun: one or two paragraphs of tight prose followed by a haiku about nature that includes reference to a traditional season, IE spring, fall. So – capitalization be damned; and I’ve added a tourist season. Photo: from art exhibit in NC: standing in front of what looks like a traditional mirror and somehow, the artist makes steam come out of your head in your reflected image! These days, that’s what the news does to me far too often. IMPORTANT reference: We stayed at the beautiful Lagoon House on the Big Island in 2000, 2001, and 2005. See 2001 photo below and explanation beneath.
Lagoon House. I was in contact last week with the realtor who continues to offer rentals on the Big Island. He sadly told me the entire Kapoho area, including Lagoon House, is now under 30 feet of lava from the Kilauea eruption. It will literallly be hundreds of years before this area of the Big Island is inhabitable again.
blue ice cold as cold can be cleft from frozen earth abandoned floats alone drowning
so deeply down in sea of despair
deplorable evidence scarred inside and out
man’s neglect his indifference
temperature rises her tears flow in melting fear
frequent fissures pulled asunder
disaster nears she dies more each day
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today Paul asks us to write a contrapuntal poem. The term is taken from the musical world and means counterpoint…a piece of music with two or more independent melody lines. Read this poem three ways (IE three melody lines if you will). 1. left column only 2. right column only 3. from left to right in total – as in all the way through the first line, ignoring the big spaces between the columns; then all the way through the second line etc.
Iceberg photos from out trip to Antarctica. Eyes photo from Pixabay.com.