Sunday, June 21, 2015

June 21 -- Meeting a Mammal Poem


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      Mammals mammals
      Stouffer’s and Campbell’s

      When I’m wakin’
      I seek bacon

      When it’s lunch
      That crispy crunch

      When it’s evening
      Steak is steaming

      Nasty habit
      Boiled rabbit

      With my daughter
      Lambs to slaughter

      With a wealthy in-law
      Breakin’ out the foie gras

      With my cousin
      Grillin’ mutton

      Jerky smokin’
      You be chokin’


    2. Sorry, wish there was a better way to edit. Maybe there is and I just dont know what it is.

    3. well that's certainly an important set of encounters! :-)

    4. It was either this or a poem about my dead dog and I think i'll wait a decade or so for that one. Couldnt go there today.

    5. Yeah that's a hard one to write about!

  2. hiking above anaheim hills

    I’m looking for an escape from this racist suburb
    Where they tell me at the supermarket to get back where I came
    From despite the fact that I’m white as hell but clearly not from here —
    Looking for some little space of special I walk off the trail
    Above the nature park where supposedly the wells fargo
    Stage coach once rode. My guide books says there were robbers
    Awaiting the wells fargo here on this ridge. Well, there’s nothing, and as usual it’s
    Hot as hell and dry. I am moving through the ruined burnt grass
    And I meet the eye of something. Gold like the grass. Big.
    Not a coyote. We look at each other. We are both walking
    In the same direction. The thing continues to look at me.
    Moves sinuous muscles. I am not afraid. A meeting of minds perhaps. This something
    I register much later as
    “mountain lion.” I tell my parents. They say don’t
    Walk there again.
    I think about how they never seem to have confidence in my
    Ability to survive situations.
    Are always so fearful. And I determine
    To go back there tomorrow.
    And the day after that
    Until I absorb that animal confidence that
    Is more primal than courage
    Till I wear my skin like a predator
    Muscles moving through the grass
    Following the trail left
    By oversized

    1. Oh, man. I saw one on a hike too. They're amazing!!

    2. This reminds me of your "First Day" poem about the caterpillars and transformation.

    3. Powerful !

  3. Birthday

    Martin stretched
    out on the floor
    Fluffy next to him

    clearly in her
    last moments

    she came on
    his birthday
    three years old
    afraid of men

    so she was his cat

    sixteen years later
    holding back the tears

    we wanted to
    say she died
    after midnight

    and not
    on his

    1. That's fantastic and touching. I'm not going to be able to write about Archie for a long time.

    2. It's been almost fifteen years, but somehow after losing someone or an animal friend motivates me to write more.
      I've written at least six poems about my Mother-in-Law since losing her just a few months back, and the first one in the hospital.

    3. Omg im almost crying so so sad

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    5. You captured the loss of a pet in a very moving way

  4. The orca

    The orca at sea World
    Always a sight to behold
    They lie as to why
    the dorsal fin is bent
    in captivity
    As they only care of profit
    the money customers give
    to see the big mammal perform
    When the baby was separated
    from its mother, you can hear
    the wailing of the parent the sheer
    despair of grief and sadness
    the pain she is in to lose her newborn
    only because of the money to produce
    more orcas and to entertain more people
    All we can say is, why do they cause these
    mammals to train only for our entertainment?
    When they are a wild as the waves in the ocean
    When the trainers are not to blame for mistakes
    made in the pool as the deaths are covered up
    to make us believe these creatures of the deep
    are in need of captivity
    The truth is they are as wild and free as the sea
    We do not want our children to believe in cages
    In the capture and the way they are put to use
    to have us pay to witness performance like a
    circus clown under the big top
    We go and pay to watch them
    wave at us, splash us, when we
    want children to respect these mammals
    for the ocean greatness they come from
    creatures of the deep
    wild mammals of the sea
    and they keep them in pools
    and behind glass barriers
    to make the orca frustrated
    and sad with a yearning to
    return to their home
    they fight back and the trainer
    is blamed for the death
    how can the trainer say what
    really happened when they are
    not able to say, and the lies
    are played out to the greed

    1. That IS emotional, and a powerful poem too man!

  5. Promises from Sea World

    I love dolphins
    Whales are incredible
    Turtles are cute
    Seals are even cuter
    And Polar Bears are iconic...and cute.

    But I was soo excited to see the sting rays,
    For some reason
    That is what I looked forward to the most.
    I didn't call them sting rays
    Then, when I was 8 years old
    An obstinate, defiant age
    But maybe that would define
    All my years...

    I had a different name for them.
    A cherished, private
    But true name.

    I knew I had been told
    That visitors could touch the "sting rays."
    And that is all that i looked forward to doing.

    His or her skin was such a dark grey.
    It knew I had looked forward to petting it
    My sting ray baby swam to me
    And waited.

    My fingers glided on the skin
    Which was slippery and sticky,
    So gooey I wanted to smoosh this cute thing...

    Thats when an employee
    Screamed at me
    That I wasn't allowed to touch the animals;
    My sting ray.

    I snapped back
    Watched the sting ray swim away
    And walked away.

    I felt the name, i knew,
    The nickname
    Swim and fade
    From my mind
    Like brains of mummies
    Pulled in fiendish
    But disrespectful obedience to a custom.

    I learned to never leave who you love
    Because in ways they leave you too.
    So i hold onto the memory
    Of my Sea World pet's name
    At least to how it made me feel...

    Suffering fron Earth's Amnesia
    At such a young age
    Is a disgusting ritual of forbearance
    Ending in a lifetime's battle
    Against symptoms of irreverence...
    What a Horrible Lesson.

    1. Great poem, and I really love this stanza:

      Suffering fron Earth's Amnesia
      At such a young age
      Is a disgusting ritual of forbearance
      Ending in a lifetime's battle
      Against symptoms of irreverence.

    2. Thank you. I'm glad you liked that stanza. I meant it to be a powerful and reflective ending compared to the rest of the poem which was more childlike.

  6. A captain always goes down with his ship

    The sun would rise with the dawn
    And with it, the hunter would also rise
    He would stretch his legs
    Get a drink
    And walk out to his ship

    The sun would warm the grass
    While the hunter crossed the yard
    He would stop, smell the air
    Glare at the dog
    Then board his plastic vessel

    The sun would drift across the sky
    The hunter would take a nap
    Slapping his tail, anoid by the children
    And the tortoise
    Who had come to play on his ship

    The sun would call it a day
    And the hunter would do the same
    Stretching again, he'd disembark
    And towards the house
    Abandoning his precious ship.

    The sun rose as usual in the east
    And again, the hunter set off to set sail
    He climbed aboard, for the very last time
    Closed his eyes
    And went down with his ship

    1. That's realy wonderful and really sweet.

  7. Visitors

    Mama Bear comes down from the mountain,
    two cubs scamper behind. You have food, she says.
    Give me some food! We shout at her to go away.
    She turns her shimmering bottom-heavy self around
    for a few paces, changes her mind. Then, No!
    I have cubs to feed, and you have food. I’m getting some!
    She comes down closer. In the late sun she is the color
    of light molasses. GO AWAY! we shout. GET OUTTA HERE!
    Okay, okay. Back up the mountain. Then, Never mind!
    She decides. There’s food here and Ima get me some!
    This time she comes so close we can see her face,
    her hungry little ones trailing behind her. We roar
    this time, crashing pans together like cymbals.
    As she lopes up the hill I admire her bunchy body,
    the way fat and fur shake on her frame and I wish
    we could feed her and her young, invite them
    to our campfire, listen to their forest stories. But bears,
    they say, have a terrible smell and I’m hungry too.