Category Archives: Social Issues

slaughtered history – NaPoWriMo #5

slaughtered history

it was the age of foolishness1
that’s what the history books will say
all this happened, more or less2

they’ll paint us crazy, dupes at best,
the folks who lost their minds and way
it was the age of foolishness1

mistreatment of the poor, oppressed,
innocents lost, locked away
all this happened, more or less2

our frozen hearts put to the test
found wanting, as we vowed to pray
it was the age of foolishness1

leaving future kin to guess
how we, so easily were swayed
all this happened, more or less2

leaving them a bloody mess
with astronomical debt to pay
it was the age of foolishness1
all this happened, more or less2

~kat


Not my favorite form, though I might have liked it better if not for so many added restraints on the form. Still I managed to pen a villanelle: A1bA2 abA1 abA2 abA1 abA2 abA1A2 where letters (“a” and “b”) indicate the two rhyme sounds, upper case indicates a refrain (“A”), and superscript numerals (1 and 2) indicate Refrain 1 and Refrain 2,  for NaPoWritMo #5 Prompt: write a poem that incorporates at least one of the following: (1) the villanelle form, (2) lines taken from an outside text, and/or (3) phrases that oppose each other in some way.

Outside Verse References:
1-Tale of Two Cities – Charles Dickens
2-Slaughterhouse-Five – Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

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March Pi-Archimedes #15

…in solidarity with loving thoughts and deep condolences to our neighbors in Christchurch, NZ…


being other

we’re not so
different
we are each someone’s
other
but what we do share
our need for peace, compassion, understanding, connects us all

~kat

Peace All


The Pi-Archimedes verse is:
○ a hexastich, a poem in 6 lines.
○ measured by the number of words in each line 3-1-4-1-5-9 to match the numerical sequence of the first six digits of Pi.
○ unrhymed.
Pi=3.14159…


November Naani #26

from horror, seeking haven,
they fled to America,
great land of the free,
but it was all smoke and tears

~kat


Love and Hate – a Cleave Poem

(A cleave poem is three poems in one often with two contrasting views expressed. Read the left side / top to bottom, then the / right side and finally read the entire / line across top to bottom.)


our intention is love though / hate sells
it is hard / fear is a motivator
to love / lies, repeated, doubled down
in times like this / over and over
when so much is at stake / become the truth
we don’t have the luxury / because people are fools
to rest on the sidelines / easily falling
wallowing in despair / for alternative facts
remember this / forget the truth
we are not victims / its a brilliant plan
we are over-comers / victory is a lie away
lovers of justice / power is everything
followers of peace / weaklings are losers
freedom is not free / you have to fight
so let your intention be / survival of the fittest
love and only love / is our motto
for only love will / be afraid, be very afraid
save us from ourselves / let us save you

~kat


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 7 October 2018

It’s been an exhausting week. Without planning it, today’s ReVerse sums it up quite well. Too well.

Oh I know there are those who see the culmination of this week’s events as a victory. It’s why they voted for trump after all, knowing full well what a misogynistic, racist, greedy, narcissist he was. He was a means to an end. This end. The highest court of our land is now stacked in their favor. It’s a gift from their god, surely. The one who judges and condemns women, minorities, foreigners, the poor, the sick, children, the weak. Yes, that god, praise Jesus. They are reaping the just rewards for their idolatry. One step closer to the heaven on earth they dream of and pray for each night.

I know you’re thinking, tell us what you really think, Kat. Ha! Am I right?!

Well, I’ll tell you. What I really think. What I know. The god they so piously claim to worship? He is not god…his son is not Jesus. The Jesus I know loved the outcast, the sinner, the poor, the weak. He gave women a voice and included them amongst his disciples. He listened to them, confided in them. It was a woman he first appeared to when he returned. If you believe in the stories written about him. It’s okay if you don’t.

I’ll admit I do not believe in the god of those who call themselves christian. I stopped warming a pew long ago. I could not stomach the lies, self-righteousness judgment, and hate that spewed from the pulpit and festered in the hearts of loyal congregants who gratefully thanked god, their god, for saving them from being like… well, you know, us…the others…the fallen…the lost.

In fact, I feel lost right now. I like to think that there is a god somewhere who cares. That Jesus is real. That all the sages of the ages who speak of love and mercy and forgiveness were on to something. That there is a god who asks us to love one another, to help the foreigner, to visit the prisoner, to feed the hungry, to heal the sick, to welcome the outcast…because that’s the kind of god he (or she) is. Yeah, that would be a god worth following, worth believing in.

As I write this I am sitting on my porch in the cool darkness listening to crickets and city sounds droning in the distance. I think about those who are suffering tonight. Those who were hurt this week. Those whose memories of injustice were dredged from the darkness, laid bare, and trampled upon by those who are celebrating a win this weekend. My heart breaks for us all, and I know I am not the only one who feels this way. And that gives me hope. I still believe in the goodness of those of us who feel. I believe in that spark of compassion that I see in those around me. God may not be some white haired dude sitting on a throne smiting the unchosen after all, but I’m more than okay with that. I see god in the gentle, the compassionate, the weak, the outcast, in all living, breathing things; I feel god in the wind. I can believe that god. The one who is. I can believe in us. I can believe in you. There you are. I see you.

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 7 October 2018

i rise like air
listen…there is birdsong
I hearsay, hearsay’s not proof for true seekers of truth
silence
no one would know
weaving threads of silken lace she lies in wait and waits
face toward the light so shadows fall behind, out of sight
death interrupts our planned existence in an instant
trust is fragile, easily lost, regained at great cost
when justice declares her verdict…
saying you believe, but…reveals a mind that is shut
She was a bitch.

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


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