After a hastened drive up the mountain
I slavishly haul the fishing gear
To the edge of the dam
I set myself up as silent darkness approaches
Sitting waiting while wriggling worms wait on hooks
Consumed by alert relaxation
Sitting waiting
Sitting waiting
The darkness makes it even more quiet
My companions are the Southern Cross and moonlight
Sitting waiting
Sitting waiting
Then BANG!
Bending rod beckons me into action
Reeling in gently consistently
Beautiful brown gold and red spots
My dear little wild friend
I am sorry I am sorry I am sorry.
The day the dam finally cracked.
It sounded like a loud boom followed by several snaps.
In the distance, a warning siren.
Then there was a hurricane-like sound of water crashing through metal pipes.
I was home, unbothered when it happened, taking a long-needed nap.
This did not surprise me; after years of warnings that fell on deaf ears, harsh remarks, and side-eye glances.
Myself and the 300 did our best, but grew tired of cleaning up others' messes.
Patching daily holes, coming up with ways to make this dam stronger for the next generation.
Of course, it did not last, with many throwing stones and other sharp objects.
Breaking the mold.
Hate and violence — it simply could not hold.
So as the waters rushed into my home,
I simply let it take me under, closed my eyes for one last time.
Inwardly, I thanked the Lord with a smile.
i've never let the river within me flow so freely,
flow so rapid, so relentless, breaking the dams the otters built.
i love otters, they're resilient; they don't give up when their twigs snap,
this time, the otters were swept away by the current
it's only up to the otter-
if they want to return.
the otters will never be able to forget the sweeping of the ocean,
they must accept that it happened, and and find it's way back to it's waters.
the ocean never wished for the otter to be swept,
the ocean loves the gentle paddle of the otter within itself.
without the otter paddling, the water lies still.
it was never the oceans intention to become so strong,
that the otter had no chance, but to be pulled beneath the current.
if the world were kinder,
if the ocean were as gentle as it longed to be,
the otter would swim until the ocean dried up,
and the otter became bone.
there are other oceans,
there are other otters,
but the otter and ocean mutually agree,
the otter's dam no longer belongs.
clusters tend to blind the eyes
overwhelm and hypnotise
I appreciate how that occurs
temporarily reality blurs
daisies fade and daisies wilt
though Earth remains on its same tilt
constant vase sometimes contains bliss
I'm temporal and aware of this
I watch as time demonstrates this fate
there is no sense asking time to wait
nor comfort in letting time past conflate
with our present or future state
each burst of joy that bloomed in view
was gift in moment and threat in lieu
yet yin and yang cannot accrue
and balance is the resting hue
I'm temporal in the schemes and storms
constants are not truthful forms
though Earth remains it can't contain
daisies if there are no rains
temporarily we pause or rush
I appreciate calm in the hush
overwhelm there taught to rest
clusters tended will manifest
Anybody Gunna believe her
About the dam beaver
Collecting sticks
Acting like bricks
Water contained
Whose Gunna complain
About the beaver
Having workaholic fever
Dedicated to the project
You got it
Watching the dam thing grow
Just for the wind to blow
Knocking everything down
Making the dam beaver frown
Scurrying back to dry ground
To pick up sticks
That will act like bricks
Creating a dam
That will stand
Nature’s power
Making the dam beaver tower
Over everything
Anointing dam beaver King
Hail my friend
When finished, building the structure to defend
Someone should commend
Check we will send
Allowing the dam beaver to be rich
Running a successful dam business niche
Deed well done
Thank you, you are welcome
A stream, searching its limits, laps the bank.
Water falls gently over a small dam.
Fish nip at flotsam in usual prank,
And find protein at weight less than a gram.
All's well and calm in this country setting
A whiff of wind shuffles a nearby tree,
Yet the shallow banks soon will be letting
Gallons of overflow to be set free.
Soft water's whispers now shriek in a scream.
A precipice grips the liquid off-guard.
It spills its mass in a powerful stream
Down to twirling whirlpool's cold disregard.
For Brian Strand's Your Choice V Poetry Contest
7 June 2025
_________ water held so still, ________
p \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \
o \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ w
w \ \ \ \ sleeps behind the \ \ \ a
e \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ l
r \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ l,
________ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \
/ /I ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
/ / I I rivers wait to run.
First Prize Winner
The Gain
****************
A laser consists of
three main
components:
a gain medium,
a pump source,
and an optical
resonator.
Primary Methods
*****************
High Pressure,
High Temperature
Chemical Vapor
Deposition
For-Deuterium
******************
central plasma core
where fusion reactions occur,
powerful magnets
to contain the plasma,
and a surrounding blanket
that absorbs energy
and breeds tritium fuel
Tungsten
********************
On the day four beasts fell…
Their tails whipping the sky in smoke
Consumed by their own fire
Such commerce
Brought down an ancient spire
Little did the beasts care
A mighty success 5 years prior
When just one was saved
From confusion and mire
For as the cock crowed
In a mourning flame
If they would’ve recognized a sun
They would’ve known when thearthwon
April 16 2024
April 15 2019
(this is part 2, PSoup said it was too long)
This painting can push
No time to bend
to pick my die up
“I'll get it” I think
“on my way back”
I'm running again
The end is in sight
And a dog and a cop
Flashing his lights
"Better come down, sir"
I barely hear him
"That's not allowed, sir”
“Who’s a good boy?” "Grrrr"
"Not from these parts"
I call in the din
"I didn't know"
"That's no excuse"
"Was there a sign?"
"Sign and a fence"
"Prominent notice?
Thank you for coming
We must do this again"
I turn and run
back to my car
Back where I parked
Back where it's dry
Back where there's work-
able dirt in the ground
Where living is easy
And no cops around
Where cement was
for basements, my
Legs are so dead
There is my die somehow
still lying there
I try and focus
And soon I am there
I stoop to get it
Pocket the die
This may be my
Luckiest day
I stumble and find
my shoe has untied
The canvas is pulling
The wind won't subside
Don't want to trip
I take mincing steps
No time to stop
The start is in view
Think I can get
Over the fence
Back in my car
And kick up the dust
As I get on the road
To where I come from.
''Mighty: 'Mira, have you seen the dam's reservoir level rise?''
Its water spills over, a dangerous disguise
Mira: ''Yes, I have, my friend. It is a terrible sight
The flood brings a destructive might".
Mighty: ''The Engineers, they say it is all for good.
To generate power, for the people's hood.
But what about the homes and lands below?
The waters rage, will they ever know?''
Mira: ''The dam stands tall between us two.
A symbol of man's power, but also their woo.
Nature's force, cannot withstand.
The flood's fury will sweep through this land''.
Mighty: ''Oh! Mira, I fear for those downstream.
Their safety and homes seem like a terrible dream.
The water's rise knows no bounds.
Its power is immense, it knows no grounds."
Mira: '' But still, we stand strong, like guardians of old.
Witnesses to man's might, and to nature's hold.
And though the flood may come, with all its might.
We'll stand here forever, throughout day and night".
So let the flood rage on, with all its might
For man and nature, will surely fight
And though the dam may falter, and the water may spill.
Our strength will stand steadfast still.
The barren ground bleached by the sacred sun
scantily clothed children and dogs run
Trees scarred by scavenged limbs
Burned in pyres as sunlight dims
Low water levels recorded on painted rocks
Boats cannot reach out of water docks
I have seen he planet of the damned
The hardened earth refuses tent stakes
another hill make your Achilles ache
The ground crackles then suckles in the rain
lack of jobs, beer in hand men complain
Barking dogs and muffled screams of passion
children cry in starvation fashion
music lifted by campfire plumes
Angry voices friendship consumes
I have walked the planet of the damned
Where people's lives reduced to what they own
Homeless families are not alone
friendship the ultimate mark
the ability to see light through the dark
I have lived on the planet of the damned
And life goes on without being crammed
Who would do that?
Lamps, shades, and floors,
But nothing more!
Do the Dam Dusters have a union?
Or are they hired by the slice?
Since filling in between is part of their life.
In fact, the Dam Dusters are well known,
Around the dams in our home.
Whatever they do,
Seems to work.
No leaks today,
Not even a squirt!
Russia's done it again
This time they've blown up a dam
Flood waters cover the land
Farmers' livelihoods wiped out
Stranded Ukrainians shout --
Help! as the 'civilized world' checks out
The long dark months of winter soon give way
to signs of life renewed again in spring.
Migrating from the south to come and play,
the songbirds have returned: a cause to sing.
The days grow ever longer, draw us out;
the snows recede, uncovering the earth.
The landscape greens as shoots begin to sprout:
a joyful time of freedom and new birth.
The flowers beckon; likewise do the trees.
we hunker down instead in fitful throes.
The pollen blooms into the grandest sneeze;
oh Lord, why did You thus create our nose?
And now I must bid you a fond adieu
before I launch my germs again… atchoo!
————-
for the Spring Is Not All Poetry Contest
sponsored by Michelle Faulkner
written on 02/07/23
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