Morning Waka and Haiku – Storm – October 5, 2015

Jen's Lightening

Photo Credits for Jen’s Lightening 

hugging her pillow
the child trembles fearfully –
a raging storm

storms in the deserts
too many jinns are afreets
dressed up like men

as a storm of bombs fall
hospital burns
three doctors killed in a flash
without hearing the thunder

fearful child trembles –
the raging storms of mankind
far from her bed
she only fears the thunder
echoing in the mountains

© G.s.k. ‘15

Cranberry Ichor – sonnet – September 28, 2015

From where does this infection come
To which we all seem to succumb?
Our atavistic fears become
A bony heartbeat – inhuman drum.

Inhale exhale then goose-step walk …
As nebulous hate mongers talk,
Of a dark menacing migrant flock
[Vague figures lined-up on a dock].

Cranberry ichor floods the streets
Under pink jackboot’s metal cleats!
[Save the money of the elite!]
As history’s lessons we repeat.

From the banks of our prosperity
What lessons leave we to posterity?

© G.s.k. ‘15

MLMM Monday Wordle – September 28, 2015

1. Infection 2. Pastel 3. Cranberry 4. Bony 5. Atavistic (of, relating to, or characterized by atavism; reverting to or suggesting the characteristics of a remote ancestor or primitive type.) 6. Figure 7. Exhale 8. Copse (a thicket of small trees or bushes; a small wood.) 9. Nebulous (hazy, vague, indistinct) 10. Menace 11. Door 12. Ichor (the fluid which flows like blood in the veins of the gods)


Infinite Oblivian – Conversation Poem – September 27, 2015

“Some of us think holding on makes us strong but sometimes it is letting go.” By Hermann Hesse

Looking at the news today
I see more fruitless acrobatics
of our fearless talking heads
whilst the sands of time continue
to flow inexorably
into infinite oblivion.

What can the meaning be I ask
of sifting through this sandy chaff
looking for the heart of reason
in the wooden minds of men
dedicated to their causes
born in infinite oblivion.

Holding onto patient reason
whilst swaddled in emotional fluff
searching for logic and truth
where neither have ever been
patience is strength they say
[or maybe just infinite oblivion].

Bullets fly in place of stones
[the blood that flows is always red]
men still kill for their almighty truths
[those emissions of mental onanism]
children cry and die – the poor are yet poorer
And our leaders sit debating – in infinite oblivion

© G.s.k. ‘15

For more information about the Conversation Poem go here:  What Are the Characteristics of Conversation Poems?

Linked to:  Writing Prompt #126 “Collage 7″