Poetry 2018
by Odin odin@aflx.com — Read all 3,869 poems by Odin odin@aflx.com
Several years ago, I was witness to a homeless man obviously hungry, peeling slivers of his beef jerky off for his dogs. Needless to say, the picture of his love for the dog motivated some help from me. Most important, the plight of the homeless and the inhumane many treat them has stayed with me.
So, as the ball drops on New Year’s Eve, take a moment and reflect on that which is outside the contentment and high anticipation the media would have us believe the coming year is going to deliver. Might all the hoopla of a new year merely be, as William Gibson defined in his novel, Neuromancer, “a consensual hallucination,” a state of mind that only pays attention to the truth one wishes to embrace. Why must the real truth seem to always come slow of late?
Saturday, December 30, 2017
Poetry 2018
Where’s the poetry
In out of touch politicians,
Finding nothing their derelict conscience
Can address?
Where’s the poetry
In a homeless family,
Through no fault of their own,
Who must endure cold,
Hunger,
Rejection ,
Vilification by the ignorant?
And lest we forget…
Where’s the poetry
In the sadness of an abandoned pet,
Filling alleys,
Vacant lots,
Fields,
Drain ditches,
While former owners party,
Or perhaps just refuse
To maintain some responsibility,
Fulfilling their obligation as a pet owner?
Where’s the poetry
In a new year so full of misery
For the underpaid,
The discriminated against,
Recipients of hatred,
Compassion-void observers?
Where’s the poetry
In sadness
So dense
There’s no room
For light to reach it,
To give a poet images,
To exercise some sympathy,
Empathy,
Perhaps even some tangible help?
Words can help heal
If they can be seen,
Heard,
Read.
So I ask you…
Where’s the poetry
In a country where so many have turned their back?
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Love ya!
Jane
even more between dog and man and you have captured them well.
What lessons we all could learn from both. Still, as you have noted, the poetry died at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.--the spot where it should thrive.
Well done (yet again) - happy new year!
I often think of my grandmother throwing their big collie in the farmyard 1/2 loaf of bread which he seemed to swallow in one bite. Not very good food for a dog to eat. City dogs like this must get terrible food just to survive. But then, so do homeless people.
A poem to bring some reality into the next year and beyond.
Ron