Cogs tumble

Tangopaso [Public domain]

Sometimes words flow rapidly, orderly, freely
Other-times words needs pondering, searching, needling

Anytime the monster Pain shows up to lurk
A wrench is thrown into the work

Cogs start to cough and tumble 
Poetic works crumble

Words no longer fit the mold 
Sentences won’t do what told 

Stanzas end rather abrupt
Pain-shacked muses corrupt


Also posted to Writers’ Pantry #4: Let Poetry and Prose Be Our Break from Catastrophe at Poets and Storyteller United.

And to to Promote Yourself Monday, January 27, 2020 at Go Dog Go Café.

Consumer lament

Shop Until You Drop – Banksy

We demand action. Now!

We want our elected to do something about greenhouse gas emissions. Find better alternatives so we can keep gas guzzling cars and vacations flying all over the world.

We demand change. Now!

We want the industry to use no toxic chemicals or to use too much water or too much energy. Find other materials so we can keep buying cheap stuff everyday.

We demand ecological food. Now! 

We want farmers to produce excellent, clean, local, organic meat and vegetables. So we can keep boasting about our happy cow steaks while saving a buck buying imported meat every other day of the week.

We demand a better word. Now!

We want someone else to invent a solution.
So WE don’t have to think about our consumption.

That changing consumer patterns is probably the only way to actually do something about climate change!

We demand to be left left alone at our screens, behind closed doors.
We feel appalled that you say we have to consider the bigger picture.
We just wanted to chase more money and more things until the end of days.

After reading about the comment that Greta Thunberg has to read economy. I wonder if there is anyone out there in position of real power who’s willing to own up to the fact that the economy will have to CHANGE if we are to save ourselves and future generations from global climate crisis, upon crisis, upon crisis...

Also posted to earthweal open link weekend #4.


Richard Revel [CC BY-SA 3.0]

Bad tempered cat
Snarls and growls
But it doesn’t bare its teeth
Slinks away to lay in dark
Silent solitude

Toothache cat
Whimpers and whine
Time moves like molasses
Wounded creature slumber
Whiles away, while jaw pounds and sear


As some noted last week I was suffering from lack of sleep. Then to make life even more fun, I grinded my teeth so bad that I broke a molar. So now I’m battling constant headaches and a pounding face while I wait for the antibiotics to take care of the infection so I can draw the tooth out…

Deadly Waters

Raphael Andres [CC BY 3.0]

With water to protect borders.
Just close the ports to stop migrants from coming.
They’ll drown.
But what value do we assign someone leaving failing states to seek a better life?

In-continent frozen waters.
European mountain winter, show paperless migrants from a wholly different clime.
Why all winter-snow bearing people through history found it wise to respect, fear and revere the Gods of Cold.


Wrote this after again reading about migrants dying to enter or cross Europe.
And that the UN has declared climate refugees can not be sent home – I wonder I anyone cares…

Apparently I where unclear in my previous post today – It rains! Right? – that was my first earthweal post this week and this will be my second. Last weeks challenge prompt Ghost made me write this – Restless rest.

Beira (Scottish myth)
Internet Archive Book Images [No restrictions]

It rains! Right?

Brocken Inaglory [CC BY-SA]

– But Sir! Water is getting scarce!

– I don’t care if water is getting scarce.
– We’ll buy it! We’ll buy all the land, and get all the water and air rights.
So we can keep water our gardens in the desert.
Keep filling out swimming pools next to the ocean.
Keep flying our private jets hither and thither.

– Sir. May I ask? The people…

– It rains all the time. People will have rain water. 

– It will be great! 

– You’ll see…

Sometimes reality feels way more trough-the-looking-glass wacky then fiction itself. Satire, irony and gallows-humor is my way of coping.

The first contribution to the weekly challenge: WATER at earthweal.

Eden of havoc


You are here for judgment by the Gods,
You may put faith in us, But We do not bear responsibility for your actions.

The Rock cries out to us today,
You may stand upon me, But do not hide your face.
The Sea butts us about today,
You may swim within me, But do not deny your inaction.
The Wind whines to us today,
You may use my power, But do not avert your eyes.
The Fire roars around us today,
You may use my warmth, But do not harden your heart.

Mother Earth accuses us today,
You may be birthed by me, But do not expect a gentle Eden.

Humanity flails around, Still playing King of the hill, No Age of Aquarius in sight.
Siblings fighting over every toy, Wreaking havoc wherever we go.
Can we evolve, Grow up, Come together, Save ourselves?

144 words, without the title.
Written for Prosery 1/20/20: “The Rock cries out…”
This one is a prose poem I believe…

Prosery this week ask us to incorporate the following quote;

“The Rock cries out to us today, You may stand upon me, But do not hide your face.”

Maya Angelou, “On the Pulse of Morning” (excerpt) from On the Pulse of Morning. Copyright © 1993 by Maya Angelou. Used by permission of Random House, an imprint and division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.
Source: The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou (Random House Inc., 1994)

Restless rest

Terry Marks, Nightmare in a Mirror

Haunted nights
Disrupted sleep
Grinding theeth

Heart-longed ghosts
Reawaken grief
Daylight seize

Angry wraiths
Trauma made
Flashback gave

Phantom could-have-been
Raises fear
Near-miss dear

Lonely-heart specter
Honest trust
Hope dust

Shades erupting
Legions burned
Can humans learn

Poet quills
Nighttime fills
Worrywart stills


I’ve had a couple of weeks of restless rest. The death-rebirth energies surrounding midwinter tends to do that. Especially if you work with yourself then.

Add to that the realization that climate change is not longer a thing of the future. Climate emergency is NOW. So we should ACT NOW. Stop consuming so much! Choose better materials. Work towards not using fossil fuels. And so on and so forth. All the things I feel like a broken record for repeating again, and again, and again.

As icing on the cake comes angst as a beloved friend, and several others, had a near miss with death. Senseless violence that’s probably aimed at someone, but shows total lack of care for human life. Again, loss of life is down to sheer coincidences. I really don’t want to live in a world where some think blowing a bomb, nearly talking a building, is a correct response to anything!

Poem written for weekly challenge: GHOSTS at earthweal.

Fluitschip Zwaluw

Pieter Mulier [Public domain]

Holding fast
He was soon borne away by the waves

and lost in darkness and distance


I woke in a steady bed
Not a bunk rolled by the sea
Weak as a baby chick
Occluded like thick fog

A sturdy woman
Probably the cook
Accustomed to being obeyed
Ordered me to have some broth


Hers not the delicate hands that bandaged my injuries
Her coarse voice not the sweet note
Who sung knitting chants over my broken bones

I ate and slept
Ate and slept again
Dreaming of Zwaluw
Our lovely vessel
Tossed like kindling in an angry sea


On the third day I woke to a vision
Beautiful Goddess
Lilly white arms
Long red tresses
Dressed in forest green


Her musical voice
Shatters the vision

Mistress of the island


Sea blue-green eyes
Carrying deep grief
Ghosts of the past
Expressive lips
I dare not dwell upon
Delicate hands I’ve felt upon my skin
Tiny belted waist
Gently swelling hips
I try to keep my eyes from rising


Again those stormy eyes
Not touched by the lips knowing smile

Like she knows the direction of my thoughts
The deep pounding of my heart

Oh, Nehalennia, Goddess of the North Sea
What are your designs
Casting me stranded upon these shores


Time for another visit to The Ivory Lighthouse.

Written for Poetics: Last Lines at dVerse AND Weekly Scribblings #2: Myth-placed.

Last line quote chosen:
“He was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance.”
Frankenstein, Mary Shelley

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