Pace the Change of Hearts

Weekly Writing Prompt #82

Pace your hate, as you line up for the cause
Of suppression.
Homogenous populations, all the same, in tacky
Red hats that
Support a change to control the liberal masses
And their ideology
Of helpful compassion. They give to others what
We don't have.
Betrayed by life, we blame all of you who want to
Continue Roosevelt's policy.

Heard on Fox news, conflicted and wounded,
Unmade in their beds.
Giving a face globally of self-centered anger,
A movement thought dead.
Those who hate, have buried seed, seed from
Eons hidden from light.
Majority voters, liberal thinkers, compassionate
Lovers of all,
Who are these new oppressed? Your mother, father, sister,
Brother, uncle, niece, aunt.

All liberals want is a chance to be happy, to share,
To be kind and considerate.
This is a crime, signed by a swirly pen, by a old man
With tangerine skin, gibbonlike,jumping up and down,
Red hair dyed so that he cannot be old. A screamer,
A bully wishing to be
King of the swamp, the dark underbelly, anti-regulations
Of protection.
Our new leader, a sociopath, a leader of sociopaths,
Of spies and lies.

This is what the haters wanted. A chance to burn with
Fire and fist.
To force back into the box the godless, the "fairy",
The rebel child.
Force back into the box the librarian who allows that
Filth on her shelf.
Force back into the haze, our global responsibilities,
The cost we should not
Bear, and bare the back without brother, the bible 
Thumper in bunny clothes.

Beware your hate, for you are a candle in the dark,
Beware your match.
Reason is a dangerous opponent on the battlefield,
Where compassion 
Equals hope, hospitals, schools, wells, medical care,
Where a bridge
Is not too far, it pulls, tugs, pushes our knowledge
Of others, like a kite.
Beware the actor, the captain, the ship, who find 
Lie after lie
And tattle to the world. Pace your hate, because I
Will extinguish it.

March, March, Left and Right

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Mar. 25/17


A marching band, that
Is where I spent the happy
Hours of growing up.
Finding the after beats,
Honking on a horn of silver.
Marching in Minnesota,
California, Oregon,
Las Vegas, all over Alaska,
Maryland and Pennsylvania.
I loved to march
Watching those with battered
Lips, lick them in quick
attacks by the tongue
Which would really rest
On a concert stage with Carol Channing.
Loved the changes in season
And when we marched in the
Chinese New Year's parade
In San Francisco, and the
Tuba players had firecrackers
Tossed in the bell to
Drive the evil spirits
Of military service out.
We marched at openings,
Closings, and when we 
stood still, the world cheered.
I loved to march wearing
Orange and black,
Green over green,
Left foot, right foot,
Straw foot, hay foot,
Angles and diagonals
Squares of precision.
I always thought that
The band would hold together 
Over time. But they marched
Away, each to their own pace.
I'm a victim of moonlit hair
That pretends to color,
Looking at the stars 
In a cold March night,
And dreaming of the cadence
Of drums, beating and beating
And bb ee aa t i n g g g g
As they march out of sight and sound
Disappearing into time.
I dream of marching into the stars
Lit for all times 
If you would just look up.
Can you hear the tune?
The brass, woodwinds,
And the percussive beat
Of living a life.
Percussion leading me
In living every day
With the guidance of
The drum major pounding
In my ears. Boom bah boom
Bah, Boom. Then we rest.

Meaningless (a dailypost word prompt)

Meaningless, all those hours you spent,
Raising your voices, lifting your glasses
To Cheer. It was meaningless, harboring that hatred,
For a man's skin color and shouting
The South shall rise again, everywhere, 
For their health is endangered while
Their mouths run, compassion wins.
Meaningless challenges the courts
Rule: that the poor can be healthy,
Rule: that insurance is a right
If you pay for it, and you will pay
For it, because we aren't grown up,
Not enough that it matters,
To hand our gratuitous illusionary cash
Over to social programs. To a single system.
Meaningless, the lack of tact
To hammer over and over what the masses
Refuse to understand, that they are part,
The most important part, for they work at the 
Bottom of a triangle and seek to pull themselves 
From poverty. So they shouted, hated, hurt
Made bleed when all they had to do was share.
Meaningless, the first one hundred days,
While apes jump up and down as the President
Learns to color and write his name.
Meaningless his statement of KING.
I acknowledge no king, emperor, ruler,
Whose hearing aid and heart are missing.
Meaningless, caught in a box crayons
Without benefit of a piece of paper
That says "In pursuit of happiness."
Scoffing, I bow to mediocrity, pretend 
I can understand...But I don't.
It's all meaningless.

I Remember When

Daily Picture Prompt 2

He was a turtle on the ocean run
When we first met. A slow moving walking
Armory filled with stories about
The good old days, until you wander
Into the waves and he glides away
Leaving his shadow on the sand as
Your gift to remember.

The picture of the turtle in this writing challenge is taken nose first. I included the link above so that you could visit it.

Vanish! Daily post Challenge

Vanish from here, unworthy thoughts,
Unburnished deeds, sad misconceptions.
Vanish from here manipulative words,
Harsh judges, unspoken times.
Bring instead the laughter of children
Raised on streets that cater to their steps,
That cherish and rejoice in potential.
Bring back the souls wrongfully taken,
Before they were ripened by age and wisdom.
Vanish from here, bitter pursing lips
That refuse to speak what needs saying.
Vanish here, and in your place, leave 
Society growing in flourishing in common cause.

One Word Photo Challenge: Dirt, and poetic response

You think it dusty from the surface?
Try here under the centuries, waiting,
Waiting for a moment when I return
Made from the elements you so insult
With filth and dusty growth.
Wait until I arise, here from the
Bench of waiting, competing, hiding.
I am dirt dignified, a dragon born.


Word Challenge:Base

Your base accusations thrown
Up into the light, then fired
Off one by one where others
Out of the loop mock and destroy.

You should have called, asked
While listening, looked again
For the rainbow's wraps between us
Where we had left them, uninterpreted.

Instead, you rose, phoenix-like voice
Raised, accusing me of stealing
Your opinions, inflating your ego,
Stealing away your personality.

Baseless, I thought, until I couldn't
Find a way between us with a flashlight.
I couldn't find the boxes of photos I
Had left in hiding, the photos of pain.

I looked for the boxes of joy, missing
The ominous spaces, the boxes of sorrow
Which had been sealed by us both. What dark
Adjustments were made by you without me?

Now we step like opposing forces armed 
To the teeth, with no base to function from
As the war begins. Why? Some blame time
Which was never my friend. Is it over?

Five Words to Play With, structures

Weekly Writing Challenge #61

Challenges are fun. This type of challenge is one of my favorites. Give me a word list and I’ll make you a poem. So here are the five words I have to use: broke, bridge, judge, story, lake.

A haiku using 17 syllables in either sentence or three line format.

Judged by a lake of
Bridged stories, heroes gain truth,
broke foes gain but naught.

Broke of common truth,
Before the judge, man swims 'neath
lakes of false stories.

Sometimes changing the form of a word gives it more power. 

Judged, the lake bridged by
Lies, these storied villains broke
Are redeemed by truth.

Then of course shapes can influence the words used:

           broken lake that carries the
       the                              judged
Bridge                                       past their stories.

Sometimes free verse works best for me:

I was the daughter of a coffee pot
and a lake of tears.
Judged by no one but myself,
I swam an ocean of grounds,
Lay upon black beaches of grounds,
Bridged the distance between a story
Explaining my tardiness,
Or a trip to visit my secret garden of regrets,
I would chose instead a broken biscuit
With a dab of butter and jam.

Or you can assign me a form that is required in its fierceness.
A Cinquain which requires a five-lined poem using first 2, the 4, then 6, then 8, then 2 syllable format:

Our Justice gone?
Finding the judge asleep,
Under a lake of lies, bridged by

Or perhaps you prefer a Nonet?

At the top, a lake of storied
lies told to a judge with eyes
Closed and clouded. How to find
A bridge to open heart
And mind. Broke the soul
That pushes lies,
Hidden by
A poet's

Well, maybe not that one as much. But with a different structure.

At the top,
A lake of storied lies
Told to a judge with tired eyes.
How to find a bridge between
What is said and what they mean?
Broke the soul that pushes
Past the line that
Formed of truth
At last.

Anyway, those were five words rolling around a challenge...


Challenge: Song

When we bought our house, new and shiny, with places that had nothing to fill them, I bought an album called Childhood Remembered. The songs were truly inspirational, sung not by human throats but by instruments, some electric and some orchestral, some a blend of it all. It was the Cello’s Song that rang through the house, echoing in time. I played it after school, before breakfast, in the middle of the night. I played it to write poetry, to get my daughter to write. I took the album to school.

My students would listen to it after being outside at lunch time. Their heads would be on their desks, and at the end of the song, the heads would come up and they would write. Oh, it inspired such fiction about fantastical voyages, heroes, villains, and the resolution of time.

It was magical, the way a tune would blossom under the treatment it was given. The theme was majestic, but asked questions. On its own, it would have haunted me. But then given a delicate background of electric piano and pulsating flute, clarinet, electric voicing. Filling slowly, adding more harmony, more of the rich voices of strings. Increasing the volume until the song overwhelmed and the listener had to just sit listening, nothing else was possible. The sound of horns arrives, notifying the listener that life is a beating moving process. Then moving back into obscurity. Cello argues soothingly. It’s best to just listen to it. Close your eyes and open your imagination. A song is a wave, needing nothing but its allure and one must listen well, for the wave may soon vanish in the distance taking our dreams with. remembered

Photo Challenge: Transmogrify

In every building, there is a castle waiting to happen. The lucky one’s make it.

Budapest, In every building is a castle waiting to happen. 2015@annwjwhite, ann’s eyes