Long Hunkered down Poems
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Irma
Franklin Price
9/7/2017
Irma came to terrorize
Spawned in the East Atlantic
Intensity as never seen
She's something quite Satanic
Became a category five
Before she touched the shore
With winds above one eighty
Around the wall and more
Came into the Leewards
Destroyed Barbuda Isle
Buildings, trees and autos
Left them rubble in a pile
What about the people
They hid and hunkered down
Some no longer with us
No longer are around
There was no stopping Irma
With that flat and tiny place
She set sights on bigger things
And Florida is the place
Along the way are other islands
To be pummeled with effect
Residents are praying
That Irma won't connect
Likewise within the Sunshine State
The people kneel and pray
That Irma veers before them
Turns north and moves away
Predicted there by Saturday
September nine will tell
The weather men a little stumped
When and where she rings the bell
God, please protect the people
As big Irma makes the fall
Protect our friends and family
And the people one and all
There they are
living within our hearts while
coloring our world like rainbows over the sky
they seem like bits of fluff blowing whilly nilly in the wind
pausing now and again
to take in moments of bliss, laughter and playfulness-
We love them
gently and firmly guiding these
tiny humans that live with our blood flowing through
their veins reminding us of our young lives formerly spent
reminding us of how the world
appears like a huge unknown
I smiled yesterday
when Rishi said he wanted to watch a dvd with all of us
on the chesterfield with a blanket over us
and then eating popcorn
Leela immediately agreed and we hunkered down
after dinner
grandparents and grandchildren
together again.
Appreciation Amidst Irma©
After watching Irma terrorize Florida and the Caribbean
This is what appreciation looks like
I appreciate that
I have hydro with which to make my morning coffee
That the roof is still on my home
The car I drive is on four wheels and not on its side
There is a place to jog this morning free of debris
The roads to get to work are safe and passable
My job is waiting for me at its usual place and time
The basement is high and dry
The bus will arrive to take the kids to school
And it is not a wading pool
There is no search and rescue
Nor a curfew
No evidence of a storm
Well rested after a night in bed
No howling winds and banging instead
Hunkered down in the dark would not have been a lark
Thank goodness for the early warning system
The many helping hands
So many agencies to heed the call
Standing up against the wall of flood
Thank you to all the brave souls
Who were out on patrols
We appreciate that which we have
And a speedy recovery for those that have loss
Of any kind
Andreas Simic©
Hurricane Harvey arrived in the night,
pushing tidal waters onto the shore.
And wailing in the dark, absent of light,
His deadly winds surround His inner core.
Sucking up gulf waters, He spews out rain,
the torrential downpours flooding the ground.
And in His wake, destruction, death, and pain
abound; as the rains continue to pound.
The rivers peek and the sewers back up,
a slurry or water begins to rise.
And folks that hunkered down run out of luck,
now needing rescue, the world hears their cries.
Texans are tough; they don't come much tougher
but even they; aren't too tough to suffer.
(Sonnet)
8/30/2017
Carelessly you threw away each wise act of preservation for sake of being loved
Today I wonder about yesterday. Why life took you to the brink, as you hunkered down that living rage. Losing yourself in selfless acts of heroism everyday you never counted the cost, and when life got overwhelming, you disappeared inside a world of fantasy. A place where you could not be found. An angry fist lay dormant, while you gave yourself away like a good wife, mother, woman, child. Yet that frozen smile on your youthful face never reached your amber eyes. You gave it all for free, never asking anything back. Full of empathy you lend your hands to hospitals, nursing homes and mental centers. You read to the sick, rocked the cripple and closed the eyes of the dying.
Then came the day when you faced the girl in the mirror and realized you were broken. Feeling discarded, unappreciated, lost and hollowed, you realized how abused and used you felt. Filled to the rim with unexpressed anger you went through the motions of life with efficiency but you were so unreachable.
During therapy you opened up and slowly began to understand that life was about self care as well as helping others. You finally found the courage to face your demons. Eventually you spoke your truth and forgave your abusers. Moving on, to a place of self worth. Once you realized you mattered, you found your true self and became the woman you are today.
As you separated the wheat from the chaff, you figured out what was important and what was not. Today I want you to know dear self that I am so proud of you and the aging woman that you have become.
Thank you, Dear Self
Without you, I would never have been able to heal myself.
Perched high upon the escarpment
of sandstone rubble, the boy sat,
shaded from the rising of the sun
in the shadow of Kings.
Sharp eyed he preyed
upon the tourist below, and to his God Allah.
His path was a treacherous one
looped and twisting like the snakes of ochre gold
shone cresting the brow of Ramesses
in the unearthly Valley of the Kings;
far from the osprey and marsh grass
of the beloved Nile.
Below the boy, on a zigzag path
between the mouth-like openings to the netherworld,
tourists swarm, ants on a mound of honey stone
suckers of sweetness, oblivious,
as they had done for centuries.
He sat as his father before him
hunkered down knees to chest
the vulture heraldic creature of Upper Egypt
death eater, little had changed except
now the robbers wore blue jeans and not the hajab.
He had earned his small bit
of the twentieth century..hawking
I drove down the boulevard as I did a thousand other times
Passing by the aged blue-gray house - the bachelor's pad across the street
Hunkered down like storm clouds in a mist of yesterday's legacy
And there he stood....the soulful captive, haunting his past
Black pants with hips flung to the side and held low by his own design
His stance altered the walkway like a steel girder posted upright
His boundless laugh seized the spotlight then scattered like wind chimes
Embracing a sweeter, livelier time before he slipped away
I pulled over to the side of the road to let my illusion wander
Sitting crippled in my car - his entranced prisoner
Pulling in the stardust memories of heading down the artists highway
Driving in his cherry red rock-n-roll car his guitar in the back seat
Where his expression, his music lived in vivid hues of youth
Startling the stage with words of rebellion
Becoming the cause of all the commotion
He challenged his crusade with the heat of revolution
His list was his own, his sequence bore his own evolution
Disobedience for the sake of itself scrolled on his flirting brow
Teasing each consequence with the audacity of sunflowers in the snow
Life was struck as a downer and he a loner
Whose heart yearned for the lyrics to sanctify his "hell on earth" anthems
A hungry wolf in a pack of sheep, growling at his own shadow
Licking the wounds of his notched dissatisfaction
Unable to disguise his truth to fit into his abstract woolly landscape
Always coiled up to the max of his amplified intensity
With his super jet speed brooding melodies
His cool blue eyes, his ocean vastness, his sky all reflected things in motion
All headed down the Pacific Highway in a finned Batman 60's Buick
Colliding with the universe
And memorializing his words of hard and lonely places
Pounding and throbbing with the sounds of his guitar
I drifted back
Losing this poltergeist of the past, this shadowy myth
This specter of a defiant paradox of love and hate.....
As the melody faded I embarked back to my journey
Riding down the boulevard - He in the seat next to me
January 17, 2020
Strand no 650 any theme any form Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
I’m not sure exactly when it flipped
It certainly didn’t happen overnight
But the world I live in now
Is upside down from the one I was raised in.
Today criminals, not just the mild ones,
Do what they do with impunity
Knowing they will likely just walk free.
Low trust has replaced high trust
Across the whole world.
First we have the Trump assassination attempt
Which fails by just a hair’s breadth
Not coincidently the first and only rally
Out of hundreds that CNN chose to cover live.
And now in a complete inversion of justice
More than just a few openly
Celebrate Charlie Kirk’s tragic assassination
While wanting to let child murderer
Nurse Clancy just go free.
The cult of death and destruction
(In the guise of “hope and change”)
Has taken over our institutions of learning
Higher and lower, the mainstream media
Entertainment, sports and movies,
So it’s no wonder confusion is the norm.
Today in America the native born
Are second class citizens compared
To the latest tens of millions
Who just poured in illegally,
And the most deranged individuals
Of the tiniest slice of an obscure cult
Get elevated to celebrity status
For being beta boys in alpha girl’s sports.
While regular folks,
Those raised in a different century
Or those wanting to simply raise their children
In a world where common sense
Is something still common,
Have a harder and harder time finding
Where such a world even exists.
In a world turned upside down
In a world without shame
Only the severely imbalanced seem able
To ever find their way.
The rest of US are just too damn furious
To even care, hunkered down in our bunkers,
Waiting, waiting for a world gone wrong
To right itself again.
(9/15/26)
I'm afraid to comment on our extra warm winter
Afraid I might break the spell
This here's only between me and youse guys
From the roof tops I wanna yell
Hallelujah, gadzooks, feels like the tropics
Went out without a coat yesterday
Is this guy nuts? Has he gone totally bonkers?
Sure feels like a spring day in May
Dream on little fellow, you're delusional methinks
You're in for a brush with reality
Oh well I've heard those psychiatric institutions
Are nice with a air of tranquility
But sadly it eventually will come to an end
And I'll be all hunkered down inside
Turning the thermostat to “sizzling” again
A heat rash will redden my hide
Wrote this a year ago as we were experiencing one of the
mildest winter on record! This year... ugh!... back to normal!
Been dumped on a few times!
© Jack Ellison 2012
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.”
~~~~