We are caught in storm of bullets, right into the heart of what America... bullet points of Project 2025.
I don't know what to say, except to post this protest/elegy to us and our struggle again. I tried to think of what I love that will be gone if President Biden does not win this election. I would love to hear what everyone will miss if…
We are caught in storm of bullets, right into the heart of what America... bullet points of Project 2025.
I don't know what to say, except to post this protest/elegy to us and our struggle again. I tried to think of what I love that will be gone if President Biden does not win this election. I would love to hear what everyone will miss if our country flames into the sea.
I was sad after reading this Letter. Usually there is hopeful news after the not so hopeful news/events.
Thankfully 99% of the comments are from honest rational intelligent and true Americans. We have to practice self-care and believe goodness will prevail.
Thank you for your very eloquent poem/elegy. Its beautiful and heartbreaking, but hopefully we won't have to see this dark vision of our country realized.
Thanks Sunni, But as Heather pointed out with, "prohibiting the Secretary of Energy from prescribing or enforcing energy efficiency standards for residential refrigerators, freezers, and dishwashers." our country is half dunked into the sea, choking on a salty coup. The supreme court's immunity manifesto, canceling agencies from doing their work, is holding her upside down dunking her, she can't breath. The repub platform released today 20 knives that will slash her into fish food.
Thank you Lynn for the vulnerability to envision the loss and make that possible future pain present to motivate us to actions that will help avoid it.
That’s the power of poetry. It is not a prediction but a clear and intense imaginary dip into what it would feel like to live in that possible outcome of current trends.
Feel it! Not just a political defeat but a drear domination into a vise grip of sameness and subjugation. The end of free agency as you are regimented into handmaidens and children’s creativity is slammed into the straight jacket of dogma while we are marched like lemmings toward the cliffs of global warming extinction. Let it sink in.
Then, meet each day with the resolve to erase that possibility.
Here's a poem of mine that is a call to wake up and take action...
Oh, Larry, that was a wonderful read. Loved, "we who hear the cracking whip and/
feel the wrenching thumbscrew of history." and the "seeking a way back home. " message. You are right about poetry. I would like us to stop describing the source of our pain. CFDT is going to do his thing. I want to start thinking about what will be lost that we need to build a life around... actually grieve what we are already loosing.
We are caught in storm of bullets, right into the heart of what America... bullet points of Project 2025.
I don't know what to say, except to post this protest/elegy to us and our struggle again. I tried to think of what I love that will be gone if President Biden does not win this election. I would love to hear what everyone will miss if our country flames into the sea.
I Stand by Her Grave and Weep July 2, 2024
Standing on a large rock at Cape Flattery
Backed by a million Douglas Fir trees
She sinks into the ocean supreme, grief sobs me.
A blazing setting sun screaming a red orange
Sunset of dreams she once allowed everyone.
She was the morning sun’s rise and shine…
She was the prairie wind the bison knew…
She was the wish on a silver Roosevelt dime…
She was the mountain trickle to a river grew…
She was the eagle’s majestic circling flight…
She was the mother of jazz in New Orleans…
She was the baby rocked to sleep at night…
She was the immigrant and pilgrim’s dreams…
She was the breadbasket of ripened grain…
She was the wild free wind in Kansas…
She was a gentle spring and autumn rain…
She was messy as Vermont’s fall maple forest…
She was a hamburger and chocolate malt…
She was our mother destroyed by default…
I kneel, my back rounded, my heart riven.
With a forest fire in front of me
This eighty-year-old body wizened…
We are dying at the same time. I cry
For America the Beautiful and I.
What you wrote Lynn is beautiful.
I was sad after reading this Letter. Usually there is hopeful news after the not so hopeful news/events.
Thankfully 99% of the comments are from honest rational intelligent and true Americans. We have to practice self-care and believe goodness will prevail.
Thank you for your very eloquent poem/elegy. Its beautiful and heartbreaking, but hopefully we won't have to see this dark vision of our country realized.
Thanks Sunni, But as Heather pointed out with, "prohibiting the Secretary of Energy from prescribing or enforcing energy efficiency standards for residential refrigerators, freezers, and dishwashers." our country is half dunked into the sea, choking on a salty coup. The supreme court's immunity manifesto, canceling agencies from doing their work, is holding her upside down dunking her, she can't breath. The repub platform released today 20 knives that will slash her into fish food.
How beautiful, for the sorrow of its warning. It makes one feel. A good poem does that.
@Lynn Geri
Thank you Lynn for the vulnerability to envision the loss and make that possible future pain present to motivate us to actions that will help avoid it.
That’s the power of poetry. It is not a prediction but a clear and intense imaginary dip into what it would feel like to live in that possible outcome of current trends.
Feel it! Not just a political defeat but a drear domination into a vise grip of sameness and subjugation. The end of free agency as you are regimented into handmaidens and children’s creativity is slammed into the straight jacket of dogma while we are marched like lemmings toward the cliffs of global warming extinction. Let it sink in.
Then, meet each day with the resolve to erase that possibility.
Here's a poem of mine that is a call to wake up and take action...
We Are Odysseus
By Larry LaVerdure
A veil of the familiar trivializes our lives
making us small and ordinary.
There’s escape in that for some
but not for us, involuntary visionaries.
We fear that we have been born to greatness
or that great service may be thrust upon us.
But then there’s that vague veil mess
of averting our eyes, failing to trust
the urgings our own beating hearts.
The veil of the ordinary hides our purpose
like fog that hides a distant, deadly shore.
Though we feel ordinary, there’s so much more
than our petty quips and rancid wanderlust.
We have heroes work to do,
we who hear the cracking whip and
feel the wrenching thumbscrew of history.
There is vindication on our lips
and our purpose is born of misery.
We who have felt the blame heaped on the bereft,
who know the mean streets of violence
the abuse of the racial, overwrought arrest
and felt the shame of hapless witness in silence.
We have seen those who would welcome
the luxury to turn away to a day of privilege
to a sense of safety even if t ’were
a day of errands, a grocery shopping dredge
with enough wherewithal
to pay for it all.
We who drown in inaction.
We who escape to fantasy,
Fill our ears with fantasy-notions.
We tied to the mast of our aversions
Unlike Odysseus long ago on a
Wine dark sea bound to adventure
Seeking a way back home,
A way back to community.
A way back to family.
Oh, Larry, that was a wonderful read. Loved, "we who hear the cracking whip and/
feel the wrenching thumbscrew of history." and the "seeking a way back home. " message. You are right about poetry. I would like us to stop describing the source of our pain. CFDT is going to do his thing. I want to start thinking about what will be lost that we need to build a life around... actually grieve what we are already loosing.
! Wow Lynn; how incredibly well done !