This is for FOWC: Glide and unfortunately this is rooted in reality. Also, I wanted to post for Frank J. Tassone’s haikai challenge this week, but it turns out that neither hawk nor sparrow are summer kigo.
watch the sparrow glide
into my kitchen window,
pursued by the hawk
This was meant to be just for Linda G. Hill’s coloring club this month, but then I realized — shockingly — that I could also write a poem inspired by the picture. Linking to the Weekly Scribblings, where we explore “when all else fails.”
When I feel like I’m drowning,
When my lungs pound to be let out
Of their cage, I find a place
Where I can breathe underwater.
When all else appears to fail,
Find where cats with mermaid tails
Play and swim, and simply dream:
For a moment flow with the silly whim.
For SoCS, our word is “nail.” Sometimes my brain can be ridiculous, but that’s stream-of-consciousness, so without further ado….
All I can think about are nail salons, even though I hate manicures. Looking at my cuticles, you can tell I hate manicures. What I hate more than manicures is how many places remain closed. I would appreciate the freedom to deny a manicure myself.
remind me of M&Ms
that you cannot eat
I decided to share this décima for Ronovan’s challenge, despite not being 100% happy with it. It’s pretty bleak, but that’s what kind of head-space I’ve been in: like, “If God is going to destroy the world now, can He get it over with?” Also sharing with this week’s MLMM photo challenge because the photo and poem are related. Apologies to Robert Frost for the title.
God said He’d never Earth entire
Destroy with rain, and that is why
The rainbow arcs across the sky –
But He said nothing about fire.
When will the Earth become a pyre,
Is there a method to avoid?
Repent, that we be not destroyed.
Of course we pray our rosary,
Yet despair haunts me doggedly:
What hell is this, Fauci to Floyd?
For First-Line Friday today, our first line is “Do you hear the people sing?” I appreciate the allusion to the Les Misérables musical.
Do you hear the people sing,
Underneath the dreary
Miasma of these circumstances?
Do you hear us fighting
The fog of fear and depression?
Voices must rise, with music
To battle this oppression:
These are our voices, lucky
Enough to be breathing.