Details |
Blank verse
|
People of Utopia
In the deepest less open forest of Congo
a tribe live in idyllic greenness the have cattle but rarely
eat meat their diet is plants, milk and blood from their animals.
They are naked, bath in a stream and walk with a natural charm.
Is this Paradise, the nearest they come to fighting
is jostling with long sticks and no one is hurt.
But wait, isn`t there something wrong the absence
of middle-aged or old people?
The people die at forty, don`t know why, the program
maker didn`t mention it he just waxed lyrical
about a life without stress and overlooked the obvious.
Had the program maker hid the old away for an esthetical
reason? But it appears people die early in this Paradise
I will not join the tribe in Congo just yet.
|
Details |
Blank verse
|
People of Utopia
In the deepest less open forest of Congo
a tribe live in idyllic greenness the have cattle but rarely
eat meat their diet is plants, milk and blood from their animals.
They are naked, bath in a stream and walk with a natural charm.
Is this Paradise, the nearest they come to fighting
is jostling with long sticks and no one is hurt.
But wait, isn`t there something wrong the absence
of middle-aged or old people?
The people die at forty, don`t know why, the program
maker didn`t mention it he just waxed lyrical
about a life without stress and overlooked the obvious.
Had the program maker hid the old away for an esthetical
reason? But it appears people die early in this Paradise
I will not join the tribe in Congo just yet.
|
Details |
Free verse
|
I've always had the esthetical need to create ~
poetry, paintings, weaving, a flower garden.
Artistic endeavors capture my attention,
augmenting and enriching the world in my eyes.
A tapestry of textures, or a canvas of colors...
these are things that have become my obsession.
My walls are filled with framed works of art...
conceptions of my heart; I consider them to be.
Rose buds in a vase with lavender, I freshly cut,
or a photo of a hummingbird on my red hibiscus.
It's funny how I speak in rhyme when writing a poem,
and hours after I think it's finished, I edit another line.
A perfectionist, I am not, but I blend oils repeatedly
until shades seem to marry like sunset to moon rise.
In the elements of artistry, I am content and satisfied.
April 7, 2021
My Obsession Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
|