The Flower Goddess She sat there everyday In her field of flowers. If she was lucky, a human would pass by chatting and laughing with a loved one sometimes they’d even take her flowers! to remember, and make themselves happy When they were done, they would leave and she would sit alone again, alone in her field of flowers. One day felt different, however, there was a weird smell in the air she didn’t mind though, but her flowers did. The next day smelled like that too, and the next, and the day after that. She never saw any humans anymore, and her flowers started to wilt away. She did all she could for them, until one day, she passed out. When she awoke again, she was confused Where were her flowers? Why were there big gray clouds coming from weird machines? Why were there bottles and wrappers everywhere? What was happening? Her flower field! Her Beautiful flower field! Why? she began to cry! Her tears dripped to the floor The Dry, Dead, Grass the land was not ready for her tears! Those machines wanted to destroy the planet. Fine! So be it! Her tears lit the grass aflame It all burned to nothing …even her Silent flames engulfed her… As The Flower Goddess ceased to exist. By Lizbeth Garcia-Lopez, age 12
Monthly Archives: April 2022
Poetry from Tess Tyler
Climate Change Catastrophe Safer docking in the Red Sea and Arabian Sea, waters in Yemen, pronounced, “Saffer.” About to rot or explode! Potentially leaking gas fumes, and oil into these Arabian and Red Seas. The Houthis won’t talk to anyone but a few. The right actions to change this massive risk IGNORED. And why? Starvation 821 million, One in 9 people, children, malnourished. Yemen, Haiti, Afghanistan, Congo, Nigeria, Madagascar, Southern Sudan, Syria. In a world where Overeating and cardiovascular disease are the number one cause of death. IN A WORLD WHERE CHILDREN STARVE. Mass displacements due to flooding. Where in the world will these people go? Their home awash with loss, destruction: Brazil, 30,000 lives displaced. Jakarta, 400 million meters of rain. Pakistan 300 million lives displaced. Kenya 1 million lives displaced. South Korea, Vietnam, Nagasaki, Venice, Italy! Tanzania, Uzbekistan, Philippines, Zambia, 700,000 lives uprooted. Kilimanjaro, Arusha, Tennessee, California, Rwanda, New Zealand, Nicaragua, Turkey and all of Central America. We have to open our hearts and minds to plan for the next thousand years! We are in the midst of a real climate catastrophe. By Tess Tyler, 11/19/ 2021
Poetry from Al Murdach
Green Jesus My church has a big green Jesus in front. Originally the statue was bronze, I think. Or maybe copper. Something more stately. Well, now it's green so I try to live with it. The pose is impressive: Jesus advances, His arms are raised in welcome, which is comforting and reassuring. However, His green face makes one pause. Is He ill? Is he pretending to be a green man, someone from outer space perhaps? Maybe He hasn't bathed recently and has become a bit moldy. Then again, maybe His color is symbolic. I mean, He did talk about New Life, and green is a Spring-like color. It's also ecological and Jesus often spoke of a New Heaven and Earth. Still, the green is a little off-putting. Kind of makes you want to stay back. But maybe He doesn't like green either! I remember Kermit the frog's lament: “It's not easy being green.” Probably isn't, come to think of it. So maybe it's a lesson in acceptance. With that in mind, I can be okay with green, I guess. It could be worse, after all. I mean, what if he was... purple?!!!!
Poetry from Patricia Doyne
INVASION I cannot play outside today. My Mom’s afraid. Maybe we will go away, find someplace safe. My best friend lives across the street, but he got hurt. I’ll never play with him again. He went outside. And when we heard the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM, my Mommy cried. She asks which bear I want the most. My suitcase zips. But since we don’t dare go outside, we watch the street. Here comes an ugly monster thing. An army tank. The soldiers look like movie guys, all dressed alike. Hear that? Shooting! Loud and close. Our window breaks. And Mommy falls. Her head’s all red. She’s not okay. My Mom needs help. What can I do? It’s war outside.
Poetry from Mark Young
From the Pound Cantos: CENTO XXVIII Poor old Homer, blind, blind. A patron of the arts, of poetry, & of a fine discernment. All decked in green, with sleeves of yellow silk, saffron sand- al so petals the narrow foot. Eyes of Picasso. Eye-glitter out of black air. A titter of sound about him, always. Here stripped, here made to stand. "It’s a straight ship," I said. The blue-gray glass of the wave tents them. A black cock crows in the sea-foam. Some / comments on / the logistics of She decided to paddle there, to join a meeting of opposing currents engineered by a spiral laser beam. The brix levels were already good — cinnamon sticks & slices of apple. The local bikers are joining on Saturday. Even though the jokes weren't all that funny everybody laughed because it was The President telling them. Same old same old but with a significant difference. This time they were laughing with him, not at him like they did with the fuckwit who was the previous POTUS. to your scattered bodies go This place is a rip off, a real live example of campaign momentum in action, on the downward slide. A year ago it might have been a ukelele serenade, encouraging women to talk to their doctors for free about the ineffectiveness of retention programs or fad diets or maybe something about Jam- iroquai. Now the promises have no value, imagined or other- wise. The candidate is bundled up, the gifts have stopped giving.
Poetry from Michael Hough, Christina Chin – Haiku and Artwork
Dark of the moon... Walking last night with my young dog along a deserted road, the stars were so clear we could see by them and the air so still we could hear stirrings of night creatures in the woods to either side... abandoned cemetery... the wind sprites restless We could hear the crackle of a neighbor's bonfire and the laughter of a few rowdies... the skush sound of a can of beer and the snort of a joke. And off in another direction: the voices of a pair of Cranes speaking to each other in quiet tones less than a tenth of how loud a Crane can be. Jack the dog heard them too, and stopped with one paw lifted as he listened carefully to them. I feel that they were just talking softly to each other in the dark as couples do. reincarnation... as fate would have them meet again Jack was a city dog before being rescued, and all this is very new to him. He knows quite well that the world is a dangerous place, but these new sounds and smells unnerve him because he doesn’t know how dangerous they might be. pitch black... the hickory path a chuck-will's-widow Further along the road the weird call of the Screech Owl gave me shivers as it always does. We decided to turn back. The Screech Owl's calls, a high lonely wavering wail... continued until silenced by four gruff and peremptory woofs of a Great Horned Owl. Those birds are the top of the food chain in our area, and other Owls become very circumspect in their presence, for good reason. nervous expiration steam mists the glasses The Horned Owl sent us home with another four low tones: Hoot… Hoot... Hoot-Hoot. We walked back in companionable silence. under the crisp light of stars
Poetry from Heller Levinson
SAY. speak sundry. from
well-up. down under. swell.
storm.
in(still(stigate) . prick flame.
firmament. flare → →
say = prong = prow = ______.
plunge bellow. plumb breath blow ges tic u late .
gyre capacious. decibel stew. strew sonic.
slake. infiltrate. frond filigree
taut.
chamber
clamor
coruscate
PERCH
fend whip foil assuage go lively
prosperity muck street hyperbole
. position
. loft
. proprioception
contiguous babble courts fetches compliance
too many moons soil the siesta
by degrees, up slowly,
. . .
then hoist
CREVICE CURL
cloy to
abject
inadmissible
lull a by
frozen lute thaw
CROSSFELLING ENCOUNTER LADEN
with stone begins. unladen. ladling porous. punctuation free. curious come
nightly timely & unsubscribed. low numbers constitute incline. flies the
function. fiery fliers. over there then.
yonder.