The Night Sounds Like a Murder

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The Night Sounds Like a Murder

The night sounds like a murder
or maybe it is just my fear
that what I thought was the worst
is only the beginning of 
the time of terrors.

I wonder about the stillness of night,
who is out there planning revolution,
how many guns are being purchased
by people who stole the flag
and constitution.

The night smells like a murder --
do you smell the fires burning,
see flame tongues dance in the dark?
I know they inch closer to my door
I hear their rustle, crackle, snap.

I listen for the knock on my door
the click of the lock, squeak of the door,
creak of the floor, cock of the trigger,
fear in my soul, pounding of my heart,
and think about death.

Yes, America breaks my heart,
I should say it has broken my soul.
Evil laughs arise from old white men
as they set fire to all that is sacred,
burn our future behind closed doors.

The night sounds like a murder,
or maybe it is just my fear.
Perhaps it is a bad dream,
and I will awaken soon to find
that all is fine -- I pray.

Beach Walk

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Beach Walk

Oh what a sweet day for a beach walk
wearing a costume so no one will know me.

Even though I am trembling inside,
my eyes remain fixed on the waves,

knowing this is where I want to be
far away from incriminating evidence.

The paper trail has been erased, and
though I am wanted, I will not be found, 

but the millstone will stay forever around my neck
until I light up my Lucky Strike and go up in smoke!

Written for Shay's Word Garden List using ten of the words!

Whales

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Whales

Majestic giants
Gliding through the dark blue deep
Songs echoing through time
Mysterious, gentle, free
Masters of the ocean's keep

Graceful, massive, slow
Swimming through the coral sea
Feeding on tiny prey
Surviving in harmony
Wild beauty for all to see.

Written for Sherry's prompt at What's Going On:   WHALES and Other Wonders.

Armistice Day - November 11, 1918

The Allied Powers signed a ceasefire agreement with Germany in this railroad car at Compiégne, France, at 11 a.m. on November 11, 1918, bringing the war now known as World War I to a close.

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Armistice Day - November 11, 1918

“Once blood is shed in a national quarrel reason and right are swept aside by the rage of angry men.”

David Lloyd George, British prime minister

There were eleven thousand casualties after 5:00 a.m.
after the Armistice was signed in a railroad carriage
in the forest outside of Compiégne close to Paris

     and the Great War was to end at 11 a.m.

As the world was beginning to celebrate
the war was still being waged and the
injured and the dead continued to mount

      though the Great War was to end at 11 a.m.

Generals continued to direct troops to fight
trying to gain advantage when all they
needed to do was wait for time to pass

     until the Great War ended at 11 a.m.

Remember British George Ellison
who died at 9:30 a.m. exactly where
the first British soldier in the war died

    only a little more than an hour until 11 a.m.

Remember French Augustin Trebuchan
who died at 10:50 when he carried a message
that soup would be served after 11 a.m.

     only a few minutes before 11 a.m.

Remember Canadian George Lawrence Price
who died at 10:58
shot by a sniper

      just two minutes before the war ended at 11 a.m.

Remember American Henry Gunther
who was shot at 10:59 charging Germans
after Germans thought he would stop

   because he didn't know war would end at 11 a.m.

Remember German Lieutenant Tomas
died after 11:00 a.m. approaching American
soldiers who had not been told war was over

    though the war had been over since 11 a.m.

There were eleven thousand casualties
between the time the armistice was signed
and the time that the Great War ended.

    The Great War ended at 11 a.m.

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Reference:  here.  If anyone wants more details.

This poem was written in 2014, the year I visited the area of many battles of World War I and saw the railroad car where the ceasefire agreement was signed.  Hard to believe it was 10 years ago.  I am using it now, again,  for Susan's prompt at What's Going On?  ----- "An Historical Moment."

Bearly Survived

 

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Bearly Survived

Let me tell you the story
of the blubbery bear
who tried to cross the freeway
only to be hit by a red Camero
driven by a dumpy-looking man
with retarded children in the back seat.
No puddles of blood left behind!

Their poor car (costing a year's pay)
was near totalled, and the passengers
were rushed luxuriously to the hospital,
to be released later with pills and meds
(mints too) for them all.. 

Meanwhile, the starry-eyed bear,
with the strength and wit of Godzilla,
rambled unabashed enroute to Mexico
and as people saw him they cried out
"What a cute and furry teddy!
I hope he is not lost."

He WASN'T,  but his mentality evolved,
and he never crossed a freeway again.

Written for Shay's  Word Garden.
Included all words, I think.  Smiles.

Reflection on "Starry Night Over the Rhone"

 

                                           Starry Night Over the Rhone by Vincent van Gogh

Reflection on "Starry Night Over the Rhone"

Swirling clouds of blue and gold
dance across the evening sky.

The city of Arles, a peaceful sight
sleeps beneath the twinkling stars.

The gas lamps provide a warm glow
as the night whispers its secrets.

A symphony of light and color plays
when the vibrant Rhone meets the sky.

Van Gogh's brush strokes bold and free
capture this peaceful moment for all time.

*****

"Starry Night Over the Rhone" was painted by Vincent van Gogh in 1888 in Arles, France.  Arles was a place of great inspiration for van Gogh. He was captivated by the Rhone River, which provided a stunning setting for his exploration of the night sky.  The original is located in Musee d'Orsay in Paris. This painting predates his painting "The Starry Night" and is said to be more serene.

This was written for Sumana's prompt  "The Night Sky" for "What's Going On?" 

A Twisted Tale

 

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A Twisted Tale

Sometimes I wonder about those extavagant people
who live their lives in makeshift henhouses
with puffy pillows and Persian rugs.
When were they last kissed by turtle doves? 
When were they kissed by any creatures at all?

What skeletons have they hid in their narrow closets?
Do they do their laundry or does their nanny do it all?
So much drivel in their insipid spoiled lives.
I don't envy their lives led with no gusto.

May foxes encircle them, and may they get
the life they deserve, drown in boring details,
slathered in sticky jam, as the train master announces 
the arriving train and then shouts "All aboard!"

Written using ALL of the words in this week's Shay's Word Garden Word List.