The Poetry Marathon

caressed by darkness
chocolaty smoothness
layers of heat
&
miles of care
surrounded by sound
blanketed with desire

No one but Elders remember a time before The End
Even if it’s just been my beginning, my life;
Snuffed skies dominate horizons choked by smoke,
Particulate matter creating brilliant sunsets
Wondering how forests still remain to burn
But still humanity plods along,
So I guess fact is stranger than fiction

We were digging a fire pit when we found it
A small chest for keepsakes, of unknown origin
But of course we found it here
Like ourselves, I guess that’s its story;
The shovel dented the wood, but
The damage was not severe,
Unlike what we’d done to the planet

Inside: a save button from a word processor
But physical and real, one of the Elders
Called it a “floppy disc”… it wasn’t floppy
A photograph of a family, smiling;
Hard to believe the sky really looked like that
Hard to believe people could be so happy
Hard to believe food was so plentiful

We live well enough, but the Elders say
It was as simple as “Going to the grocery store”
Which was some kind of food library,
But you didn’t have to bring anything back
And I wonder what secrets the save button holds
But we don’t have a “floppy disc reader”
And I wonder why these items were buried

Especially the can of beans…
Perhaps they thought ahead? Perhaps they knew
Of the carnage that would be unleashed
Perhaps the happy collection predicted that
Sustenance would be hard to come by
And preserves would be the way forward
But alas, we lack a can opener

These origami cranes crafted from
underwear catalogues (which slipped,
quick nipples, into my mail)
are an improvement on
paper promises
of bliss that a
purple bra
offers
me.

Every time I think about the awesome responsibility that parents have to pour into the lives of their children, I think about the legacy of life and The gift they will leave to all Mankind.There is no handbook that comes with the lives you create, but it is through sheer strength of will and determination that will ultimately result in a human being who is an extension of who you are and for all to see.
It doesn’t mean your way is the best way or the only way, but the final result can’t be denied. Sometimes you may try to do it all right, but that doesn’t guarantee perfection; it just means you tried.

I read about a call for poems about World Food Day with inspiring, forward-looking messages against hunger. You can read more about it on Laura Shoven’s blog if you are interested. I’m drafting a poem here for the Poetry Marathon.

Quivering, savage, ravaging pain
Intolerable, mean, and fierce
Hunger hollowing inside–
But a just full world can
drive off hunger’s pangs
Honest eating
to recharge.
Aching
halts

Upon looking at some old photographs,

I glanced upon a college friend,

a David Bowie twin whose

conspiratorial

smiles hid a dry wit

and easy grace.

Now he’s dead—

died of

AIDS.

photo credit – Alexander Ant

Four blue-dyed petals pressed to the wall

With its tiny flowering tail

Held together in strong twists

Adding style and beauty

Such colorful sign

With same symbol

Oval ends

It’s yours

Love.

Can we get some sense of sanity?
The world seems to be breaking apart
Am I the only sane one?
Did everyone give up?
What has happened here?
Am I insane?
Anyone?
No one?
Damn!

–Surya T