What would you do
to save a life?
What lengths
would you go to?
What hardships
would you endure?
Would you agree to
stay home, to be alone?
We certainly are not
the Greatest Generation.
But, perhaps one day
we will be known as
the Mediocreist Generation.
Today I will
fight against the chaos
of the world
today I will
write
today I will
read
today I will
paint
today I will
plant
a garden
today I will
give
food, blood, thanks
I am trying to concentrate on what I can do, not what is beyond my control. This isn’t quite right, but within the constraints of NaPoWriMo I will publish it, and hopefully come back to work on it sometime later.
#18
I have a lot of dreams,
lately
where I’m lost
and I can’t get to
wherever it is I need to be
Suddenly
things come up
distractions
complications –
baroque and convoluted
I’m off on a tangent
trying to fix
something
or solve some puzzle
and meanwhile
getting no closer
to where I’m meant to be
#19
We are tired
of staying home
of our own company
we are sick and tired
of hand washing and masks
soon we will be sick to death
#20
Yesterday
I planted a garden
I tilled the soil
until it was broken up fine
then I raked it smooth
I use the
broken handle
of a hoe
to space my rows
evenly
To make the rows straight
I use two stakes with
a piece of string
tied between them
I planted a row of
Sweet Ann peas
next to that
Red Bliss potatoes
(because who doesn’t want a little more bliss in her life?)
next Little Finger carrots
Detroit Dark Red beets
(though I live in Wisconsin)
and Mixed Heirloom leaf lettuce
Now I wait
and weed
and watch for miracles
Once we had a war on poverty,
now we seem
to be engaged in
a war against the poor,
as if the “have nots”
were the enemy,
the problem.
Rather than
the incredible greed
of the “have too muchs”
who burden us all
with the terrible weight
of their avarice
This is just a bit of foolishness in a time of grave issues and serious problems.
There’s pandemonium at the zoo
in streets and at the school –
all over!
Large yellow llamas have clipped
across the street
stopping traffic, standing
withers to withers in protest.
They have been fleeced
and want sweaters and scarves
as recompense.
Next, they will march
on the yarn and craft shops.
The tigers have busted out too.
They’re capturing circus folk
and audience members
with their bare paws –
or rather tiger paws.
These tigers are a cagey lot,
putting the people behind bars
and training them
to balance on balls
and jump through flaming hoops.
And every night the tigers
throw raw tofu through the bars
to feed their captives.
The school has been flooded
and taken over by flounders.
They insist on
an education to prepare them
for the future.
They have chased
the students away
and put the teachers
into glass tanks
in the back of the rooms
for the fish to observe and care for.
They hope to teach responsibility
to the fish students
by caring for the teacher-pets.
The pandas are out too.
Fed up with a black and white existence
they want more colorful lives.
So the pandas have collected dye
and are jumping, rolling,
and generally cavorting through
vats of all colors.
When they’re finished,
they’re going to the courthouse
to take over.
They will be bear police
bear judges, and bear lawyers.
Because pandas know
the world is not all black and white.
There’s pandemonium at the zoo
in streets and at the school –
all over!
I sit in a gallery of eyes
all watching me fail.
Pinned to a cork board,
I hang in empty time,
waiting
Small worries
chew at my brain,
crawl under my skin,
making me itch
The thing I forgot
is haunting me,
taunting me.
I try to close my eyes
and disappear,
but even though I’m mad
it doesn’t work for me.
It’s gray and foggy this morning
but the birds are still insisting
we get up and face the day.
Otis, my Jack Russell terrier,
is blind;
has been since he was a pup.
He’s learned where things are
through his other senses.
He goes out in the mornings
and feels for the sidewalk
to lead him back to the house.
There are four steps
up to the front door.
But sometimes the cat
sits on the steps and blocks his way.
He knows the layout
inside the house,
but sometimes
when I come home from work,
or someone knocks at the door,
he gets so excited he loses his bearings
and runs into a door frame
or a piece of furniture.
He hears the morning birds calling
and perks up;
he wags his tail
and wriggles his body
ecstatically,
then flops over for a belly rub.
He doesn’t know
it’s a depressing, gray day.
There is
a single bud
on my Christmas cactus.
Today it opens
showing me
how to be brave
and joyful.
Between the clouds
and the ground
and the leafless trees
I see 12 different
shades of gray
As dusk begins
to settle
the daytime
folds in upon itself
Without sun
or moon
in sight
there are no shadows,
but the grays
blend and deepen
A coyote’s lonely call
hangs
unanswered
in the thick, dark air
This is for National Potery Month/ NaPoWriMo, and is linked to Verse Escape where the amazing Hedgewitch is doing extra duty with FF55 each week in April.
In Other Words 