Each month, write a new collection.
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This gross and wonderful!!
BUTCHER WRAPMammals mammalsStouffer’s and Campbell’sWhen I’m wakin’I seek baconWhen it’s lunchThat crispy crunchWhen it’s eveningSteak is steamingNasty habitBoiled rabbitWith my daughterLambs to slaughterWith a wealthy in-lawBreakin’ out the foie grasWith my cousinGrillin’ muttonJerky smokin’You be chokin’Mammals!
Sorry, wish there was a better way to edit. Maybe there is and I just dont know what it is.
well that's certainly an important set of encounters! :-)
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.
Yeah that's a hard one to write about!
hiking above anaheim hillsI’m looking for an escape from this racist suburbWhere they tell me at the supermarket to get back where I cameFrom 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 trailAbove the nature park where supposedly the wells fargoStage coach once rode. My guide books says there were robbersAwaiting 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 grassAnd 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 somethingI 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 myAbility to survive situations. Are always so fearful. And I determineTo go back there tomorrow. And the day after thatUntil I absorb that animal confidence thatIs more primal than courageTill I wear my skin like a predator Muscles moving through the grassFollowing the trail leftBy oversizedWheels.
Oh, man. I saw one on a hike too. They're amazing!!
This reminds me of your "First Day" poem about the caterpillars and transformation.
BirthdayMartin stretchedout on the floorFluffy next to himclearly in herlast momentsshe came onhis birthdaythree years oldafraid of menso she was his catsixteen years laterholding back the tearswe wanted tosay she diedafter midnightand noton hisbirthday
That's fantastic and touching. I'm not going to be able to write about Archie for a long time.
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.
12 years, I miscounted
Omg im almost crying so so sad
You captured the loss of a pet in a very moving way
The orca The orca at sea WorldAlways a sight to beholdThey lie as to why the dorsal fin is bentin captivityAs they only care of profitthe money customers giveto see the big mammal performWhen the baby was separated from its mother, you can hearthe wailing of the parent the sheerdespair of grief and sadnessthe pain she is in to lose her newbornonly because of the money to producemore orcas and to entertain more peopleAll 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 oceanWhen the trainers are not to blame for mistakesmade in the pool as the deaths are covered upto make us believe these creatures of the deepare in need of captivityThe truth is they are as wild and free as the seaWe do not want our children to believe in cagesIn the capture and the way they are put to useto have us pay to witness performance like a circus clown under the big topWe go and pay to watch themwave at us, splash us, when we want children to respect these mammalsfor the ocean greatness they come fromcreatures of the deep wild mammals of the seaand they keep them in poolsand behind glass barriersto make the orca frustratedand sad with a yearning to return to their homethey fight back and the traineris blamed for the deathhow can the trainer say what really happened when they are not able to say, and the lies are played out to the greed
Emotional topic, truely
That IS emotional, and a powerful poem too man!
Promises from Sea WorldI love dolphinsWhales are incredibleTurtles are cuteSeals are even cuterAnd Polar Bears are iconic...and cute.But I was soo excited to see the sting rays,For some reasonThat is what I looked forward to the most.I didn't call them sting raysThen, when I was 8 years oldAn obstinate, defiant ageBut maybe that would define All my years...Anyways, I had a different name for them.A cherished, privateBut true name.I knew I had been toldThat 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 meAnd waited.My fingers glided on the skinWhich was slippery and sticky,So gooey I wanted to smoosh this cute thing...Thats when an employeeScreamed at meThat I wasn't allowed to touch the animals;My sting ray.I snapped backWatched the sting ray swim awayCriedAnd walked away.I felt the name, i knew,The nicknameSwim and fade From my mindLike brains of mummiesPulled in fiendish But disrespectful obedience to a custom.I learned to never leave who you loveBecause in ways they leave you too.So i hold onto the memoryOf my Sea World pet's nameAt least to how it made me feel...Suffering fron Earth's Amnesia At such a young ageIs a disgusting ritual of forbearanceEnding in a lifetime's battleAgainst symptoms of irreverence...What a Horrible Lesson.
Great poem, and I really love this stanza:Suffering fron Earth's Amnesia At such a young ageIs a disgusting ritual of forbearanceEnding in a lifetime's battleAgainst symptoms of irreverence.
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.
A captain always goes down with his shipThe sun would rise with the dawnAnd with it, the hunter would also riseHe would stretch his legsGet a drinkAnd walk out to his shipThe sun would warm the grassWhile the hunter crossed the yardHe would stop, smell the airGlare at the dogThen board his plastic vesselThe sun would drift across the skyThe hunter would take a napSlapping his tail, anoid by the childrenAnd the tortoiseWho had come to play on his shipThe sun would call it a dayAnd the hunter would do the sameStretching again, he'd disembarkAnd towards the houseAbandoning his precious ship.The sun rose as usual in the eastAnd again, the hunter set off to set sailHe climbed aboard, for the very last timeClosed his eyesAnd went down with his ship
That's realy wonderful and really sweet.
VisitorsMama 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.TM