Big subdivision.
New houses on ground.
Sitting, just plonked there
with nothing around.
So close together.
How could they cry?
Without the neighbours
wondering why?
It happened before.
On our paddock too.
Homes for others,
all shiny and new.
Some might think,
About times before,
When sun hit the ground
and rain too and more.
The falling of trees
and planting of crops,
The sticks and leaf litter
no longer on top.
The house that I grew in
once wasn’t there,
but I don’t think
that I was aware.
The kitchen, my bedroom
had always been there.
Hadn’t they?
What battle-worn baby boomers lived through
Gentle Gen Z rug rats don’t have a clue.
Growing up street smart in subdivision
Without much parental supervision.
Boomers devoured books and magazines,
While Gen Z distil life thrills from their screens.
Going outdoors? Too much hassle whereat
Life downloads faster in an online chat.
Boomers had to climb to reach the summit -
“Too long to bother”, say Gen Z, “Damn it!”
Boomers’ love connections - hard at first sight,
Compared to Tinder swiping left or right.
OMG! Gen Z dares to attach
To someone who, in fact, is not a match.
With boomers arduous life played hard to get:
Before achieving breakthrough, break a sweat.
Gen Z have it all savvy and clever,
Their creed is wifi speed, faster than ever.
Solutions to life hurdles? Browse the net!
Sophisticate AI - better yet.
In short, the generation gap in place
As history repeats, fast forward pace.
But we unconditionally love you,
As grandparents and baby boomers too!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just a few months ago golden grasses waved in the stronger breeze of late summer, a preview of the winds to come. The clover and alfalfa were beginning to bloom, sending a heady scent over the nearby country road and our tiny subdivision just beyond the ridge.
But then the grass became hay--golden and dry--and the strands stirring only when a strong gust accelerated over the newly sawn fields. The baler came and formed the crop into a hundred hay bales or more. Now I gaze across the fields and imagine myself climbing over the five-bar gate and sitting upon one of the bales remembering the last of the summer rays. (Yes, already missing summer)
sun-bleached sentinels
grass sweat trapped in golden coils
memory's dry scent
It's a good feeling to see
The natural voice of nature
Is so soothing to hear
The sounds of the birds singing
It so sad because the experience
Is short lived and unexpected end
It's near to be lost and unseen
Big building will soon arise
The place will soon be full of houses
Convert into subdivision and high rise
No more bird's music, no more nature
No more fresh air, no more chills.
The thick numerous shoots of grass have come out,
no more snow shovels til late autumn comes about.
I hear the robins chirp as they tend their nests,
wait....the sound of a cranky lawn mower chugging
to life from its winter's rest!
Quickly, dear, go out and mow before everyone else
does!
our yard needs to look perfect, 'cuz-
the neighborhood spring lawn mowing wars have
just begun,
it's quite serious, not so much fun.
Yard envy is so common in our subdivision,
The HOA "Yard Of The Month" prize brings derision.
If the young couple who just moved in across the
street think their landscaping is the best,
my roses and begonias will put them to the test.
Hubby can't start the riding mower,
he's cursing its parentage midst dandelions
and clover.
The other men in the cul-de-sac are already
halfway done,
as their wives bring out iced tea for them
under the strong sun.
Well, well, tomorrow is the neighborhood
block party,
I've already made an array of warm weather
dishes so hearty,
My potato salad and baked beans will surely
be the envy of the other cooks,
it is in the good 'ol American spirit-
to compete and be a smug schnook! ~
Brain-fuzz falls like dandruff,
clearly the clarity of a strain-free smile
is back to work.
Summer is breaking its glass sky.
I'm unwinding a Slinky soul,
after a dark thought
dropped me into a subdivision of hell uninvited -
mind blisters are healing well.
Football's my neighborhood's religion
its altar, the couch near the kitchen
Worshiping the big-screen television
every home in the subdivision
ducks
visit subdivision pond
headed south
A subdivision of sparrows came dancing,
Did a ballet all over my lawn.
What a wonderful sight,of pure delight,
For a handful of seed and crushed corn.
Everyday the performance is different,
Blackbirds will join the display.
I've never seen anything quite like it.
All this dancing and singing today.
They perform everyday around teatime.
The blackbirds can be head of the cast.
Bowing and bobbing and dancing,
I keep feeding and hope it will last.
After each performance is over
The crew keep changing the cast.
It's a good job there are lots of performers,
Or their ballet would be over to fast.
Next performance! Same time tomorrow.
8/ may/2021
Nature contest
Sponsored by
Regina McIntosh
Nimblest stick skims hit drum skin
Bring submittance to my ears afore deafened
Transmitted rhythm rips something
Transcribes fusion to percussionless essence
Slight vibration of battered recipient
Resonates hot with beat's cogent command
Arcaic lyrics kept frosted ambivalent
Snare wires wrap me tight with dire demand
Equipped persistent musician tender
Taps jazz ostinato out until my innards revolt
Sends suddenly a heart buzz centred
Haphazard feeds my ardent uncovered pulse
Simultaneous cymbal clash climactic
Existing utterly in thrum ghost note's vacance
Subdivision given in drummer's frantic
Twirled gut spasms driven by his incessance
17th October 2020
- Emperor Ultimate Music Maker, Ace -
I want to sing your name forever
A sunken tombstone lay on either side,
The wall itself enswathed in moss and fern,
Fragmented, as the bond of blood which died
Before the grave envelopped each in turn.
Two brothers who had once been closest friends
Who ran through fields and forests hand in hand,
Too proud and hard of heart to make amends,
Had forced a subdivision of the land.
Their Father, by such hatred torn apart,
With his own weathered hands had built the wall
Each brick ripped out a portion of his heart
Partitioning his sons once and for all.
Now woodland hides their memories from sight
But passers-by will often stop and stare
To contemplate man's universal plight
And wonder why the rugged wall is there.
10.10.20
A Wall In The Woods Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
N/A COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (28)any form any theme Brian Strand JUDGED :10/18/2020
Hm's And Na's October 2020 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Can't stop, I'm driven to an extreme intense vision
Of power and control much like the guy on television
Lead the whole planet
To run the gamut
Making sure we're still here in our lovely subdivision
My dad, born today, the 17th of February
bucked fate head-on, courageous and daring
Raised in a home on a block so poor
he swam upstream, de rigeur
In 1926, all his teeth fell out
lack of fluoridation won that bout
In 1929, young brother Sidney died of malnutrition
the family couldn't afford to see a physician
In '33, he chucked religion, came to Chicago on a mission
to look for a job midst the Great Depression
His family had gambled on their decision
that my father Maury's iron-willed ambition
Would see brother Herman through dental school
which my dad would pay for, as a hard-working fool
And so he did (!) and so it went, 'till my father Maury was
sent overseas, B.A. in hand, to fight Adolph Hitler in a foreign land
When he returned, he earned himself a law degree
married his sweetheart Maxine with two pennies
or three to his name, he toiled at his law firm's bottom
'till he saved so much money that a ranch house he got him
in Highland Park, Illinois in a subdivision on a tree-lined street
my dad's rags-to-relative-riches story, a Horatio Alger throwback treat
Our stay in the
mushrooming subdivision
Ashley Springs
can achieve full ownership only
by meeting the developer’s
latest requirements...
six bushes and two deciduous trees,
keep your garbage can in the garage.
Such restrictions have put the whole
neighborhood in the throes of unrest.
Gears are clashing even as I write.
To sully the community spirit
in this way evokes emotions which
attempt to sidestep legality.
We more flexible newbies,
about thirty in number now
are pitted against
the established oldies
who could grandfather out of some of
the constraints based on length of residence.
Solution? It’s our property now!
Mr. Developer. Your raw power gains nothing
by the forcing of personal preference.
written May 27, 2018
Can't stop, I'm driven to an extreme intense vision
Of power and control much like the guy on television
Lead the whole planet
To run the gamut
Making sure we're still here in our lovely subdivision
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