From my drone, I see you far below
The elk stampedes, the red rocks glow
I'm like the storm over the plain
Can you outrun the rain?
You hope to make it to the black rock lands
But no-one is left, no helping hands
My drone lets loose, a bolt from the blue
The earth erupts, but it misses you.
You think of sunshine before this war
No idea back then what was in store
That foolish empathy now seems in vain
Can you outrun the rain?
You galloped the prairie, now your horse is lame
You dismount you and jog, can't face the blame.
Behind you thunder shakes the plain:
Can you outrun the rain?
You think of the horror that you helped bring
The bombed-out craters where vultures sing.
Truth wasn't your value, that was your stain
You seeded the cloud and now comes the rain.
I send a new command to the drone
I can't go through with this, so I call it home.
My heart goes out to you, I feel your pain
I'll look away while you outrun the rain.
My muse showed up at sunrise
with a grin I didn’t trust,
whispered, “Let’s write brilliance!”
though my brain was gathering dust.
My notebook’s overflowing~
every page a scribbled plea:
Why do ideas strike at midnight
but ignore me during tea?
I chase down inspiration
like a tumbleweed in flight~
it rolls off toward the mountains
while I trip in morning light.
My drafts are wild stampedes,
every sentence bucking free;
I wrangle them with coffee
and a whispered, Mercy me…
Night stampedes wind-horses.
I edgily negotiate the sharp corners
of swerving shadows.
The hind hoof of a doe
slaps the reflection of my startled face,
the Chevy twitches, plows on -
headlights rake the earth.
From a rear-view mirror
I see myself prone on the asphalt,
terrified limbs still stamping
over a shell-shocked mind.
The deer chased its bones,
disappearing into the sight unseen.
Night dropped its iron curtain.
Later,
I sleep dead-eyed
behind a spinning wheel.
In Africa's heart, a giant lies,
Nigeria, blessed with riches that surprise,
Petroleum, gold, and califonium's might,
Lead, iron, bitumen, and limestone's sight.
But amidst this wealth, a paradox we find,
Lovely people suffer, while leaders' greed entwines,
Abject penury, a constant, gnawing fate,
While politicians milk public funds, an unborn generation's weight.
Foolishness, indeed, to hoard and not to share,
As children, women, men, and youth die, with no one to care,
In stampedes, they scramble for crumbs from philanthropists' hands,
A nation's shame, in every corner, where food is shared, they stand.
Who will rescue us from predators, who prey and exploit?
From leaders, who, with impunity, our future destroy and loot?
Of late, tens of children and women died, in a desperate bid to eat,
Their cries, a haunting echo, that our conscience cannot beat.
Women wake, with hopelessness, their children's future unsure,
Are our youth lazy? Our men idle? No, their daily toil, a story untold,
Their income, a meager sum, that cannot meet their demands,
A giant of Africa? Ah, what a mockery, what a sham, what a stand!
The Empty Space Between the Stars 10-24-24 Inspired by Aurora Borealis by Frederic Edwin Church
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Empty Space Between the Stars
Aurora dances in empty space
Breathing legacies of star dust -
Charging solar bubbles of atoms
Seek reunion
With blasted bits of spangled astral Edens.
Spirits of abandoned ancestors
Twirl
Spiraling hydrogen kaleidoscopes
Cloaked in legend,
Between celestial glories, storming matter plasmas
Seek reunion with voyagers.
Emptiness absolved from desolation
In scarlet phantoms electrified
In stampedes of crimson rose
Wearing neon cloaks
Chartreuse winks at Orion
Launched into the space between…
The hunter is inside
between the lens and its mirror
where Zen masters prowl
with high powered lights.
The prey is sensed
before it takes shape,
otherwise you catch nothing.
You are in the zone,
mind locked on a digital trigger.
Sometimes
the whole world stampedes
across your path,
more often,
a small curlicue of significance
will trip a sensory wire,
crosshairs will meet,
then for an instant you disappear,
as you take the shot.
If you want to darkness dump,
To in life take a long jump;
If you need a sounder base,
A crossing into new phase…
For who wants to rule his thought,
Not relying on ideas bought;
For emerging a true champ,
Where you happen to now camp…
To know how to drink with straw,
Fingernail clip when it’s claw!
For leverage to the fore,
Behind leaving days of yore…
You’d better you went to school,
For therein awaits The Tool;
When one is no longer young,
Earning money like The Strong…
In higher ones find a course.
Don’t try stampedes of a horse;
You will have broken a rule
And might not escape Half Fool…
God knows I’m the First Witness,
Now, a fast–selling–business
Ingratiating the teacher,
Who sometimes sounds like preacher…
The hunter is inside
between the lens and its mirror
where Zen masters prowl
with high powered flashlights.
The prey is sensed
before it takes shape,
otherwise you catch nothing.
You are in the zone,
mind locked on a digital trigger.
Sometimes
the whole world stampedes
across your path,
more often,
a small curlicue of significance
will trip a sensory wire,
cross-hairs will meet,
then for an instant you disappear
as you take the shot.
Climb inside and buckle in
Anxiously twisting the key
As a mechanical symphony roars to life
Setting nine hundred horses free
The machine becomes an extension
Of my own flesh and bone
My heart beats in choppy rhythm
While eight cylinders scream in tone
Launch sequence initiated
The green bulb’s affirmative glare
Release one button as I depress another
The front tires suspend in mid air
The mechanical cavalry stampedes
While the pipes cry out their siren song
Defiantly embedding rubber into asphalt
Parallel stripes running dark and long
Every gear change seemingly effortless
Acceleration that flattens your chest
Control of the beast seems impossible
While every sense is put to the test
Heads swivel and jaws drop open
The earth quakes as I roll past
Vanishing into the darkness
Redefining the meaning of “fast”
For I have stared fear in the face
While others stood back and leered
I stomped my right foot in defiance
And clicked down to a lower gear
This - the Divine Unity
Of Man and his Machine
In water we may be baptised
But in horsepower we are redeemed
Within ageless canyons we hold our breath.
Ash clouds engulf us, survival or death?
Santana stampedes, pariah unchained.
‘Tis Dante’s hellhound of Hades renamed!
Chased from our homes and all else that we own,
Panicked we flee, to a refuge unknown.
Behind us a past we can never forget
The clear hills of May, June’s swallows…regret.
Sparked up by nature, mishap or misdeed
Transmission line wires sing songs we must heed.
Flora in peril. Restore what is left!
Redeem our planet for which we’ve been blest.
Wildfires delivering whirlwinds of flame.
Let’s pledge to assure renewal sustained.
Wildfires of fall bring us whirlwinds of flame.
Black-scape throughout, life’s survival or death?
Spring blooms of dogwood. Renewal sustained.
Santana stampedes, she’s wicked, untamed,
through canyons of ages. We hold our breath.
Wildfires of fall bring us whirlwinds of flame.
Now Dante’s hellhound of Hades renamed!
Desiccation abounds where there were fresh
spring blooms of dogwood. Renewal sustained.
What brought this on us, is someone to blame?
Nature or mishap? A crazed soul's arrest?
Wildfires of fall bring us whirlwinds of flame.
Now charred, disfigured but memory maintains
the clear hills of May, June sparrows, content.
Spring blooms of dogwood, renewal sustained.
Flora in peril, all creatures the same!
Twixt ashes or mudslides? These losses attest!
Wildfires of fall bring us whirlwinds of flame.
Spring blooms of dogwood, renewal sustained.
The sheet is off the portrait
and the Dorian no longer gray –
it’s all about power, and greed
that’s on display –
little thought really of color
outside their mandate to
encourage greater divide –
more truth are in the shades
long steadily on the rise…
We are a blended society,
in our hearts and in our
deeds; though evil controls
the voices – most media
intent at causing injurious
stampedes – News abdicating
information for paychecks –
cashed while
innocence bleeds –
Sorry, I've not been around
But for Christmas time...I was Texas bound
I hadn't time for poetry
First time there...had much to see
Like longhorn bulls, in tamed stampedes
Cactus plants and tumbleweeds
Saw Dallas Cowboys and their fans
Then lightning came...made other plans
I went to see, a southern show
Bull-riders lassoing at a rodeo
Ate Texas toast and eggs with grits
Didn't agree, gave me the ..... (lol)
But all is well, and I'm back home
Now I've got time...to write a poem
Hope ya'll, had a blessed Christmas
Sorry about, your poems I've missed
But I'll catch up...I'll read the soup
Get myself, back in the loop
Get myself, back into gear
Wish ya'll...a nice New Year
Then see you after...in poetry
Swapping smiles...you and me
Sharing writes and sharing time
Thank you...dear friends of mine
From Gem stone to lime stones,
Diamond rings and gold teeth,
To big arms, arm strong
Heartless minds and cold stares,
The feel for warmth
No friendly harm,
To lions and chimpanzees
Fight for evolution to river streams,
The dry crispy lands
Animals as friends, love to dare
From deserts to amazons and tropical lands,
End of entry now just
countries and boundaries, but no exit!
Humans in the jungle,
High class and stampedes
Skull and cross bones to crosses
Live a life, die right now.
Great Spirit whispers on breathing breeze; 'It is time',
puce plume in saffron noon signals hunt's aborning,
ThunderBeasts' harrowing hooves erupt Great Plains grime,
soon will ail, widow's wail like a wild dove's mourning...
Ancient wisdom, ebony eyes, high cheekbones wide,
buffalo, he knows, mystical foes who fight back,
astride, he rides his Spanish horse with native pride,
his soul cleared, spiritual prayers 'fore the attack.
Timeworn trails, bison beaten by shaggy stampedes,
hunting grounds feared and revered, tribesmen o'er the brae,
power potent, cloven cloud, hastened heart proceeds,
ambush laid, panicked herd, embrace the bloody fray.
Casualty's chance, horseback dance, drum lethal hoof beats,
thunderous trample of ample prairie crocus,
Sioux and beasts' sacred throes, their crimson flows 'neath feet,
death has a way of bringing life into focus.
Susan Ashley
October, 24,2017
~ Third Place ~
Contest: Tribute To Native Culture
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
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