In other worlds, we bathed in glass
instead of water.
Thousands of small grains cascade
as I stand bare in the shower, eroding.
Our ancestors never found cool, aqueous respite,
only beams that scorched the vast, barren sea of gold they wandered.
Their mouths, always parched,
never welcoming foreign waterborne contaminants.
Still, they were contaminated all the same
by those that burrowed into the flesh.
In any account of humanity,
we are flesh.
To be wrung,
to be infected,
by what cleanses and sustains.
And yet, we bathe
in dust or dew.
We consume.
We reach still for what purifies,
even if it wounds.
my soles sneakers
are free of contaminants~
a walk through the rain
Written: December 23, 2022
A HIKU PREMIER Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Uunacceptable amounts of diethylene glycol and ethylene glycol are contaminants.The substances are toxic,and their effects"can include abdominal pain,vomiting,diarrhoea,inability to pass urine,headache,altered mental state and acute kidney injury which may lead to death.The WHO said that India's Central Drugs Standard Control Organisation indicated that the manufacturer may have only supplied the contaminated medications to The Gambia But the WHO said that"global exposure"was possible as the"manufacturer may have used the same contaminated material in other products and distributed them locally or exported" them..
Note.Underprivileged boys died who lived in slums..
Forgive me, children
For walking through the desert
Thinking the world was dry and barren
While lying on the wet, dewy grass
...limited vision
Forgive me, children
For focusing on used clothing
Thinking new is necessary and natural
While being fully covered in skilled threading
...hidden desire
Forgive me, children
For preventing control of rules and ways
Thinking soil had to be free from contaminants
While covering the ground with fertilizer
...mangled roots
Forgive me, children
For not leaving you in the care of others
Thinking love was limited and untrustworthy
While flowing in the process of healing
...unsubstantiated allegations
Against the Creator
Forgive me, children
For my experience of life
Thinking out was in
While being, now, where I've always been
Alive...
Written by Trudy Schrader on 04/28/2022
We’ve shown contempt for our Mother Earth…
We throw garbage on her beach.
Into her air
and land
and sea
our contaminants and pollutants leach.
Yesterday I watched as a beautiful old tree was pushed over to make room for a house…
and then another tree…
and another…
and I had to stop and ask myself…
Is this any way to treat our mother?
Looking at all the times she’s been abused
disrespected
and defiled…
I wonder…
if we should stop thinking of her as our mother…
and think of her as our only child.
""Failure to communicate yo-zzz-zzzzzzz buzz yzz yzz vzzz
Brzyyyy is beautiful yzz yor yo-xxxzzz yzzz yzz
Comments communication gaps vzzz
Yo--zzzzzz yzzz yzzz mention melting contaminants vzzz
Verb second predicate predictor vzzz
yoney your yony yor Victorious earthen than victims vzzz
Voy voy vessel vov vo vzzz
yzz yzz visited victim vozz vyyley vzzz
V-ZZZZZZ speaks the Voganians""
3/10/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
I used to fish from the banks of a lake next to our farm
many many years ago. My fishing gear consisted
of a thin branch cut from a willow tree. For a hook
I used a needle my mom gave me. I would use pliers
and hold it over a fire.
Then I would bend it to form a hook. For a line, I would
use white sewing thread. For bait, I would use mom’s
cookie doe and shaped small balls and place them on my home-made hook.
I remember the blue green water of the lake where one
could drink without fear of contaminants. I would
use a match stick for a bobber and caught numerous perch and crappy. Mom would clean them and cook them in lard she made herself.
Life was simple then. Dad and Mom were always together and would often held hands as they walked to the grocery store. The air was so clean and pure that breathing was like inhaling nature. I would listen to the silence and my thoughts
were so clear and simple. I knew who I was and where I came from.
Oh, how I miss those carefree days.
POLLUTED HEART
Thirsty soil parches in scorching summer
Sucks liquid crystal drops of sparkling rain
Stores in deep aquifer pure groundwater
Brought to surface, pure it doesn’t remain
From humans contaminants it obtains.
Lone heart freezes in the dark of winter
Blooms in joy when colors of spring enter
Weaves tapestry of pristine love within
Abused by black mist of lust it welters
In polluted heart love stops to flow clean.
April 1, 2018
Syllable count: 10 each line
Rhyme : ababb ccdcd
White chalk in the rain
I can’t stand the thought of
sitting on a street corner,
writing on the curb
with white chalk in the rain
Outlining puddles
in runoff contaminants,
bleeding into the asphalt,
following the cracks and crevices
of the last poem I wrote
in permanent ink,
when the sun danced
across her smile
and my words
brought blue skies
to the pages of
my heart’s desire
I hate chalk…..
1/19/16
That is it
After this
No matter if
The road ahead is hazardous
Beside many establishments
Waters with or without halibuts
And areas where the ground and air has traces of contaminants
Bought her a lot of amethyst
And garnets that were called mandarins
So that whenever she wanted too, she could dress up and feel glamorous
In the liquor cabinet
Was bottles, some of which were extravagant
And they typically had either a cork or twist cap on it
Others showing their true colors
Fussing over nothing
Then being animus
Because they are desperate and ravenous
I told you you're soft and gelatinous
Stop trying to talk blasphemous
Or you'll get burned like a lot of cannabis
Bought some amulets
And found a box of talismans
What it said and meant, caused me to conduct my own analysis
As I'm looking across the horizon of blue
There I soulfully know are wars tearing our
countries and bombing many homes,
And ruined many economic businesses of few,
Lest they have ruined, ruined many a homeland
thus destroyed.
There are a hopelessness and forlorn of poverty
Among the innocent children, clothed in rags,
They're also drinking and eating polluted
contaminants which makes them frail,
Is there not a higher power of fruition to
bring a balanced moral of support.
Suffer not the little children; is there a greater
Kingdom for all to walk in harmony or amnesty.
Is there or can there be a quest for all our people
here on earth?
To reign peace and prosperity to one and all
This could be a great creation to establish and
stabilize an equal balance upon the fruition on earth.
Written: 10,26,2014
Theresa
Virtue flee and vice will come
A new observation I made today
The things I do not want
Are always in the way
When what I desire most
Tetters me pining at some sturdy post.
Here comes cockroaches trekking on the table
Here comes rats my hate to disable
Here comes flies knotting up my space
And spiders threading desert place
I little use, even for waste
Here comes gobs of green fungus
Turning black on a cloth of white
There is so much oddity in my race
That I share with every man
We do what we do not want
And what we want we can't
Resolutions are a shamble in this place
They creep and crawl
Infectious desires
Contaminants of everthing but fire
I cannot let this in.
standing in the line i feel the pressure, scolding, start to build,
i feel their each and every iris as they climb the height of my structure,
this fortress i was forced, by fear in youth, to unearth and bare in hand,
with time has weathered thin and i with it feel increasingly translucent.
mutter and glance, hands attempt to contain their maintenance.
to look and to listen, not a single tone to note or color to perceive.
their contaminants infiltrate my ventilation, the stench is sickening,
pulse erratic and mind askew, i flee, steps fueled by incubated haste,
cause comes to such effect even the beaten path is bruised by its confusion.
the archway constitutes a sigh and with that a slow of pace,
fumbling finger over fidget, pocket full with whispers coaching panic on its way.
the breathe of smoking paranoia shrugs a calming gesture.
a wink of timid silliness and nurtured nature bring to mind,
how, even aware of relevance, dissimulation fogs the clouds.
Should sin imagined need that we atone
For angles lying equilaterally prone?
Conjunctive on an even parity
Of head and toed triangularity.
Passion shaped by she and he and she,
Yet friendship, understanding holds the key;
Pyramidal the power of the prism,
A dark side of the moon eroticism.
And though the devil days need exorcism,
Night in liquid silk somnambulism
Moulds the flesh and satiates the brain,
Three sides to every story they remain.
Arise convention's bones and drab disdain
At value judged contaminants again;
The Triad burning love when night must fall,
Embraces all for one and one for all.
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