Long Hunkered Poems
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It is Northen coastal California,
Which boasted the best weather in the USA,
Then came the Global warming, changing the weather all around,
Never so many people suffered from Tornadoes, cyclones, fire, and flooding.
When the scientists proclaimed about the dangers of Global warming,
All the conservative ruling elites thought it was a lunacy of progressives,
Now comes the warning of Atmospheric bomb, and Atmospheric River (AR) rain,
Hunkered up in my room, I watch with fear the monstrous clouds rolling up over my head.
Last year when AR came, the little hills started to slide down,
The age-old trees fell everywhere, power came and went with the rain,
When it comes with an Atmospheric bomb, it is a cyclone with rivers of rain,
The roofs over houses blew up, trees crashed cars and houses all over,
It flooded everywhere, and a few lives got lost in this deluge.
I can live without this watery deluge,
Would love to see past sprinkles observed by natives in awe,
Would love to see birds taking a little shower,
Unfortunately, everyone perishes in this deluge of AB and AR rains.
Two little girls on their way home
One got caught by a grin
The rejected, walked home, alone
While pretty and fast entered sin
A father and son sit at a table
Son is drinking his steal
When confronted with the fact
Money couldn't fix the "reel"
Never home to take up slack
Always at work, serving time
The family fears that the pull of power
Makes him tow the line
So much fun to be enjoyed
Yet she is constantly ducking out
The track marks on her arm
Are strewn about
....a broken body
Don't lie, steal or cheat
That's the rules he preaches
But behind closed doors
Little children believe action teaches
.....deception
Over in the corner
Hunkered in a huddled mass
Is a grown women
Marking her arms with shards of glass
...to bleed
OUT.....OUT I SAY!!!!
.......shhhhhhhhhh!
There is sound...in the back
Be silent so I can hear
The subliminal messages
That regulate my fear
What do I believe about self
And how did I come to take it to heart
I believe I'm ugly, stupid, of no value
..........hopeless
Good things come to others
The ones who have the special gift
Me, I've learned on a fault line
Always on THIS side of the rift
Void, empty, dark, unwanted
This world is cruel and unyielding
But I am no COWARD
Grief has brought me to building
.......a river out of my sorrow
Written by Trudy Schrader on 07-26-2019
Note: Until our say and our do match up, subliminal messages put us in a position to be torn asunder. May we work, moment by moment, to hear the lies, compare them to truth, and take back our personal power to be who LOVE has made us to be.
Brilliant light and sound show
not disappointing forecasters promised
outstandingly uproarious performance
powerful winds rage
against the machine
embark to score prestigious
chart chopping hit
pliancy of heavy
boughs sorely tested
ear splitting cacophony
presaged coming fury
within safe shelter of B44,
I hunkered down
analogous to brave soldier
avoiding deadly crosshairs
imagining villainous turncoat
targeting yours truly, now
considering me enemy sniper fire
body instinctively crouches
against impending "FAKE" battle
suspected collusion trumpeting
thunderous applause issuing prelude
betokening nonpareil symphonic
unscored cacophonous rendition,
where pliant limbs
deign to welcome
impending stormy "Daniel" reign
impossible kickstarting boots
on the ground impossible mission
mere mortals cannot hush
their lame clout ineffective against
weapons of mass destruction
unleashed by Gaia
forcing immediate recall
atavistic survival skills
tapping into fifty shades
gray matter within
primitive brain stem
long atrophied primal beast,
an individual object lesson
desperately summoning
emergency measures
lest life and limb
whiplashed to pulp
by furiously roaring winds
fierce howling tempest
reminding 21st
century *****sapiens
merciless Mother Nature
intolerant toward global indignity,
perhaps foregone
watershed of extermination
points ship of fools be damned!
My Celtic Grandfather bred Irish Wolf Hounds.
He was a stern man, as inflexible as stone,
a hard Ulsterman
wed to a soft Erin woman.
“Never let yourself be alone with the hounds,”
he warned.
Yet I went;
I stole into the garden on an evening
when the sun was falling asleep.
The giant hounds gathered round me
Growling,
then they hunkered down
and discussed among themselves
what to do with me.
The largest of the dogs
told me about the blood wars
and all the ‘troubles’ of this sad land.
I did not understand much of it
but felt the fierceness of his heart.
They found me curled
with the great shaggy beasts
and the only one they would let retrieve me
was my disgraced mother.
Later that day we took the ferry to Liverpool,
then the train to London
where the dogs did not talk,
but where humans often whispered:
“unwanted.”
~~~~
Homeless, I am hunkered down
inside of a garbage bin.
And hailstones morph into rats
gnawing at my exposed skin.
Hunger claws at my stomach;
a pain that I've learned to bear.
And a putrid odor clings
to the dirty rags I wear.
Corrosive tears flow freely;
within my cocoon of shame.
And I keep my head hung low;
in self-pity and self-blame.
The sun has abandoned me;
to the darkness of the night.
And left me here all alone;
a neon sign for a light.
Sleep promises to save me;
yet it often fails to come.
And I'm lying here frightened;
both vulnerable and numb.
Impressive
behemoths
iconic eyefuls
clutter its
cortex that
is of the
manmade
plateau as
it rises from
end to end
sloping in
its outstretched
suburbia that
is hunkered
down as its
supportive
role model
surrounding
the panoramic
scope of its
hub, the
lifeline both as
survivors in their
own respective
appearances,
branching
outwardly made
up of smaller
towns and
villages of
cul-de-sacs,
mom & pop stores,
schools, and
playgrounds
that sorts out
as a piece of
a miniature
Americana
being its
salvation
from a workday
to a night play
a microcosm
of endless
tearing down
and building
up in this
city of lights
a metro-cosmos
that never sleeps
amidst tomorrow
eyes . . .
2020 January 26
Cityscape Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the sky,
Santa's reindeer sped bringing toys to the world's small fry.
"On Dasher! On Dancer and Prancer! On Cupid and Vixen!
Lead on Rudolph! Speed it up there Donner and Blitzen!"
Rudolph knew the routine since he had led Santa for years,
Cruising o'er Australia, Merry Olde England and sunny Algiers!
Suddenly, Santa saw strange sights he'd never encountered before!
Whizzing past him were dozens of satellites and space junk galore!
But faithful Rudolph was alert and said after another near miss,
"Never mind, boss! Trust me and hang on! I'll get you through this!"
Santa clutched his toy bag, hunkered down and closed his eyes,
Relying on the red-nosed one to guide him safely through the skies.
They made it alright and Santa visited every isle, city and nation,
Spreading cheer to all who awaited his visit with great anticipation!
Santa brought presents to all good little girls and boys worldwide,
Thanks to his magic sleigh and reindeer with Rudolph as his guide!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
A crazed shooter is shooting up a school:
Death stalks the halls, where children are dying.
And an automatic rifle's his tool,
leaving grieving parents shocked and crying.
Hunkered down in classrooms behind locked doors,
kids call home; there's little time for goodbyes.
Facing the horror of blood on school floors;
friends watch as friends die in front of their eyes.
Large magazines pump out shot after shot;
while so many lives are needlessly lost.
For these few moments of fame, a crackpot
does not care about the horrific cost.
The NRA backs his constitutional right
to buy such a weapon: it's his birthright.
Out on the range and hunkered down
Been out here for a week
The morning cold the range is brown
Mist rising from the creek
A deep roaring sound behind me
I spin around in fear
What I see does astound me
How is a spaceship sitting here
Door open and inviting
I feel the need to take a look
I find it quite exciting
It has got me on the hook
Standing in the open door
He is beckoning to me
More regal one I never saw
Or ever will I see
A pinch to check if dreaming
I did not feel a thing
But the river is still steaming
It has got me on a string
Walk over and go through the door
It is like another world
Pearl white walls a golden floor
And curtains all unfurled
A cowboy sitting on a chair
At last I feel at home
But looking least like anything
Out on the range I roam
His Stetson more a halo
On his back there could be wings
My body turns to jello
As I realise some things
Relax and sit there just be calm
We need to check you out
We will be quick and do no harm
Of that there is no doubt
Alien to you may be
We are from another place
Out there in the stars you see
From deep outer space
We will make a small quick test
Now don't be so aghast
Then compare it with the rest
We have taken in the past
To see the changes that you've made
In progress or recession
For years now has been retrograde
That has been our impression
So cowboy up as cowboys do
We will soon be on our way
You will be as we found you
With no inkling of today
Mist dispersing with the sun
I sit there feeling strange
Out here where the cattle run
The wide and open range
Get to my feet and saddle up
I have much work to do
Why do I feel so shaken up
I don't have a single clue
Credit Frimufilms / Freepik for partial image
We'd awakened to soon reaching.
for respite keeping PTSD at bay
while anxiety attacks bicker with
my Narcolespy my focus remains.
steadfast on Traumatic Brain injury
allowing my cognitive activity to bravely
send signals to stretch my legs and arms.
I can feel a traumatic headache approaching.
but so is the time for my monthly nerve blocks.
injections twelve shots in my head in all
granting me sheer relief for thirty days
after the stream of pain forget me nots
wears off my mind goes back to the injury.
bruising my brain sullen matter awakens me.
I am quite shattered within the fight flight.
mode hunkered down in hidden nooks of sanity.
racing thoughts I sit up on the bed now.
in the quiet calm of the night tall egrets
walk by my window alert a family of fox's.
nose's pointed at the moon snow birds I suppose.
here just for a season just like my thoughts.
I chant and wonder if my brain would someday.
stop no more data to be found in this!
desperate state I began to write again.
providing me a kind of self-medication
if you will effortlessly removing my mind
from negative thoughts a real treasure
emerge as my alter ego actually becomes.
my muse in this finite moment the stars all
line up just so twinkles sending signals sparks.
waves of chemicals balancing sheer survival
of my brain hence survival of the mind