Archive for the 'Poetry' Category

Challenge 46

English: 030216-N-6967M-003 Brightly colored P...

English: 030216-N-6967M-003 Brightly colored Purafill pellets filter out odors in the chambers. The deeper the chamber, goes the more intense odors become. (All Hands, June 2004, pg. 25) Photo by Photographer’s Mate 1st Class (AW) Shane T. McCoy. (RELEASED) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My stink made me think

Is there something I can drink

For fresh breath and wink

   YUR

https://ronovanwrites.wordpress.com/2015/05/25/ronovanwrites-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-46-think-fresh/

beat stream #1

In a more appropriate context, Rulah Jungle Go...

In a more appropriate context, Rulah Jungle Goddess battles a congress of gorillas to rescue an explorer (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

frogs and geese, and girls with pearls

fresh veggies in all sorts of  swirls 

wet tee-shirt contests in modern art galleries 

soup cans and comic books  . . .  andy and roy 

boy o’ boy 

frick and frack.  who says that’s whack?

snap and snap and snap and snap and . . .

huh?   —   YUR

 

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Such Is The World – By JoAnna Nathan Welles

Tornado damage in Arkansas

Image via Wikipedia

A semi-submitted poem, which is apropos to the violent storms that are devastating the Midwest of the United States:

Black crows, big as rabbits,
pluck worms off the knoll at dawn.
More unidentified flying objects
perch in Hitchcockian rows
on rooftops, on the edge of drains.
 
Naive house cats will not be allowed
to play on the grass today.
Such is the world
 when turned upside down.
Such is the world, I say.
 
Gray clouds gather, whistling winds,
raining over thirsting plains.
Natures fire lights up the gray.
Funnels writhe like unheld hoses,
ominous monsters approaching.
 
All children and parents and pets alike
should stay out of the rain today.
Such is the world
 when turned upside down,
Such is the world, I say.

We bear Witness – A 9/11 poem

This poem was written by JoAnn Wendl on September 17, 2001

We bear Witness
 
Sure footed rescuers, alerted hearts and minds, balancing on dusty
smoldering broken steel and glass, pass countless buckets back and
forth in sobering brigade, gently and reverently remove the fallen
broken dead, scattered and in pieces from the treachery of that
tangled grave.
 
With a searching hope that will not die, born live within their
memory’s reach, they stop at the urging of a canine friend. In the
clarity and brilliance of an azure sky, they listen, unmoving, perched
upon the stillness, hearing nothing but the beating of their own brave
hearts.
 
In the eerie glow of work lights as our heroes labor on, amidst the
horror wrought from desperate sickened minds, our broken hearts are
crushed beneath the cranes that come to search their nests, a message
to the world for all mankind.
 
We feel America rising out of the ashes of her dead, a giant anguished
womb on eagle’s wings.  We pray to hold her temper well, her empathy in
tact, to work with a united hope to deliver peace at last. We are the
children of the sacrificed, from families around the world.
 
We are the mourners, and we bear witness.

 
Addendum: September 11, 2008 (Also by JoAnn Wendl)
 
The questions for the Bush administration still remain; Why weren’t
our jets scrambled at the first report of hijacking? And did the
Administration encourage FEMA’s failure to respond to the Katrina
Disaster in an attempt to prove we could handle it ourselves?


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