Poem #8 — Haiku
Wandering across
Verdant fields under the sun
Humming to myself
Hour 8 – Broken Earth
Broken Earth
Make a fault in the Earth
rip, rapture, and spoil
all to even the score.
To take energy
from beneath your feet
and capture the moon.
Accept loss to return a son.
Risk the world to start anew.
No
Not one more sister.
Not one more sister.
Not one more sister.
Not one more sister.
Not one more daughter.
Not one more daughter.
Not one more daughter.
Not one more daughter
not one more body not one more body not one more body not one more body
Fearful men feeding us into the machine not one more no more never again
stop
the
fuckin
train
Lahainaluna School 1831
Tell me old girl, what have you seen since your founding in 1831?
Ah, a King, a Queen, a Governor and a President, chaos, anarchy, revolution and war.
Fires and winds have threatened you but the students fears and joys have kept you alive.
Your boys have fought on the gridiron and on the beaches of Europe
Yes, a lot has happened since 1831 and yet you still stand proudly in the sun.
You shuddered as you were told that students would not be allowed back within your walls and you were very sad. But then you became glad when you were told it was time for a return to normalcy.
What is normal for you? I’m sure if I had more time you would tell me what that would be. But, for now, you’ve said a lot.
I leave, feeling some of the pain and joy of Lahainaluna since 1831.
Aeronauts (Hour 8)
Purple mountains, yellow seas of grass stretch out below.
Twin balloons lift off, seeking, searching,
stretching the limits of flight.
Two aeronauts launch into blue skies.
With each pull of the burner, the balloon ascends higher.
Air thins, breaths come more quickly, temperatures plummet.
Where does man’s power end and God begin?
Hillsong
Seven small voices hushed by his grief
One small woman to light the way
A war so heinous
Its crimes changed the world
A time of opulence for some
A time of poverty for most
The maniacal ravings of a leader
Brought the world nearly to its knees
One small woman
Tempestuous and head strong carried an angel’s voice
Led the way for family and country
Through lyric, timing and love
A nun was not what she would be
Just as the sisters all suspected
One small woman such as she
Called to lend the world her light and charity
It was not long before he saw
Through the fog of grief and war
Stole his family through the night
Away from war into the hills
They ran and ran and sang and sang
Hidden by mountains high and snow so deep
They lost the little one it is so
Fleeing from their native land of Austria
Their story’s been told around the globe
Of one small woman with her heart and soul
Saved a family from all harm
To live again in a foreign land
Her songs live on this very day
Her voice still moves this old woman’s heart
The first book read at morning’s light
The last book held each and every night
Mission Failure
I dreamed I was running
The wind whipping at my face
The stairs endless before me
Over and over
There had to be an end to it
I could hear you
All around me I could hear you
You were just around the corner
Just at the top of the stairs
Always out of reach
I could see you
The outline of you
Standing black against the blaring light
Your back was to me
And you were looking up to the sky
Then everything went black
I couldn’t see the stairs
The walls
The door
And I fell into my black prison
Drucilla’s discovery
Five years as the reigning queen.
Made her feel weak and old.
And the captain of her royal guard
More reticent than bold.
For now they stood beside the hive
That once had been their home.
Where they had spent long evening hours
Telling tales about a drone.
Pieces of sweet honeycomb
Were smashed upon the field.
Shaken by the evil winds,
A thing that witches wield.
No regrets, so deeply felt
For causing such bad weather
Could restore the beehive now
And put it back together.
“Witches,” said Drucilla
To her royal guard one day.
“Be careful what you say to them,
Or you will have to pay
The price of all their vanity,
For they’ll use any means
To avenge themselves for one small hurt.
Good God! They’re just like . . . queens.
Hour Eight, Condensed Book Prompt
Hobbit Haiku
One fearless hobbit
a dragon is defeated
one ring is brought home
2021 Poetry Marathon, Hour 8
For Hour 8, I went with the text prompt.
Our Hero sets out
on a quest
and has a series of wacky adventures
until we get to the end of the book
But I’ve forgotten how it ends
Usually, I forget bits that happen
in the middle
with all that plot happening
it’s hard to keep track of details
But they say the journey is the thing
So here I am
the forgetful reader
remembering either how the story goes
or how the story ends
Douglas Adams once said
of his famous 42 as the answer
to the question of life, the universe, and everything
that we can know the question
or we can know the answer
but we don’t get to know both
I understand now
26 June 2021