Archive for June, 2010

Squirrel

Squirrel

 

Furry grayish red-brown streak,

Please try not to look so sweet

As you dash into the street,

Should’ve moved with faster feet!

Why’d you run out in the street?

Just to get a bite to eat?

Lying mangled in defeat,

Lying broken in the street.

Such a tragedy to meet,

With an end that’s not so neat,

Must you be so indiscreet

As lying shattered in the street?

Hal C Clark

‘May 2010

In the spring and early summer, we see a number of young squirrels who never learned to cross the street (they didn’t look both ways and wait for traffic). One day as I was driving, a squirrel ran out into the street ahead of me, then changed his mind and came back across. I guess I didn’t hit him, because I didn’t see him in my mirror. A couple of weeks later I was driving to the supermarket when all these lines started forming in my mind and I struggled to remember them until I could pull into the parking lot and write them down. After some editing and rearranging, this is the result.

For me, the rhyming pattern and length of lines give a sense of urgency and frustration to the poem. This matches the frantic activity of these small animals. By the way, the ones that live to be experienced learn about the high road: the cable wires that go from pole to pole over the street. They cross these non-electric lines with the skill and grace of a tight rope walker and don’t have to contend with traffic – unless they slip.

Brown Dominion

Brown Dominion

 A sonant seashore in Gulf waters

Peaceful, restful, welcoming
No More.

Tiny tar balls wash on

Pristine shores.

A sheen of long brown streamers lies

Across a liquid bed.

Fightless birds with flightless wings

And lifeless eggs

Shrouded in the heavy brown of greed.

A delicate estuary, draped in toxic goo.

A nursery of shrimp and crabs

Destroyed.

Unknowing creatures, unwilling victims

Of a need for higher dividends

We live on a tiny blue ball,

A speck in the universe

With only a thin candy shell

For air, a drop of fresh water.

The only home where we can live.

What is this force that comes

To take without remorse?

He is a tyrant that comes in the night,

Seduces our young daughter

And takes from her

That fragile bloom

That is only hers to give

And give but once.

He says only “It was what I wanted.”

As if that justifies the act.

And when it is gone and cannot be returned,

What can we do?

Hal C Clark

June 2010

The spill in the Gulf is very frustrating for many people; people who live in the middle of the affected area, make their living from it either harvesting seafood or in tourism. The oligarchy at BP doesn’t seem too concerned. They took risks, cut corners, and now are more concerned about stockholders.

This poem is more edgy than my usual, but I needed something that expressed my feelings. I tried a rhyming poem, but it didn’t carry the impact I was after. Poetry is the most expressive type of writing I know of to express feelings.

Also, this is not about politics. It is about humanity and caring about someone besides oneself. I would appreciate your comments, up or down. I love the supportive environment I find on WordPress.


Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 30 other followers

Post Calendar

June 2010
M T W T F S S
« May   Jul »
 123456
78910111213
14151617181920
21222324252627
282930  

Blog Categories

Archives