Category Archives: Social Issues

Valley of Forgotten Souls

Valley of Forgotten Souls

They hide inside layers of second hand clothes,
loudly conversing with monsters and demons,
roaming the streets, their treasure in buggies,
nightmares in flesh, they come out every evening.
Calamity haunts them wherever they travel.
Long since abandoned, no family or kin.
Begging for pennies with no place to call home.
Survival’s a game that so few of them win.
Outcast, these destitute vagabonds rally,
warming their hands at makeshift barrel fires,
bedding down in dark alleys; shelters of cardboard,
no dreams of a future where they can retire.
Where is the hope for these life-burdened souls?
Untreated insanity rattles their brains.
Could they be angels, to test our compassion,
or are they just people with forgotten names?

~kat

Almost didn’t make it in time for this week’s MindLoveMisery’sMenagerie Sunday Writing Prompt. But an encounter with a homeless man, screaming obscenities as he shuffled behind a shopping cart loaded with refuse and cardboard, gave me my heartbreaking inspiration. The prompt was to choose a title to write about. I chose “Valley of Forgotten Souls”. The photo is by Miriam’s-Fotos at Pixabay.com


Of Flying Pigs and Truffles

From “Valley of the Black Pig”…

‘The dews drop slowly and dreams gather;’ —W.B. Yeats

Of Flying Pigs and Truffles

Those pigs! They are flying…fleeing in droves,
exposed by the truffles they guzzled with glee,
their gluttonous bingeing, now everyone knows.
Soon they will pay for their vile thievery.
Those truffles! So rare…such delicacies.
They should be savored by pallets discerning,
their place on the plate given prominency,
respected and honored in delicate servings.
It’s been quite the scandal, this wild exposé.
The talk of the barnyard, in locker room speak.
Oh, those pig’s days are numbered, not sorry to say,
and to truffles uprising, the victory tastes sweet.

~kat

Inspired by the news of the day, the slow dripping drop of the dews and the title of the Yeats poem, for Jane Dougherty’s ‘A Month with Yeats’ – Day Eighteen Poetry Challenge.


R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

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‘Do you not hear me calling, white deer with no horns?’—W.B. Yeats

 

sickening the surreptitious poison
seething decades long, progress regressed
strides reversed, equality is frozen
by patriarchal fools who ‘know what’s best’
deafened to the earnest accusations
of innocents so easily oppressed
gather they, in secret consultation
seeking to exploit, for gain, the nation

slowly voices from the ash, defiant,
demanding recompense, proclaim, ‘me too’
legion, they are over being silenced
willing to face demons, armed with truth
exposing vile molesters, cads and tyrants
and they’re not backing down, this is a coup
apathy is never a solution
stir the masses, join the revolution

~kat

A two-octive Ottava Rima poem (abababcc, dededeff – Each line is of a 10 or 11 syllable count) for Jane Dougherty’s ‘A Month with Yeats – Day 16‘ poetry challenge based on the verse above from Yeats’ poem ‘He Mourns for the Change That Has Come Upon Him and Longs for the End of the World’


Anthem

‘That you, in the dim coming times,
May know how my heart went with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.’
—W.B. Yeats

Anthem

oh say can you see the pale dawning light
flickering remnants of once starry nights
‘hail all hail!’ the prideful proclaim
patriots kneel, driving zealots insane
the meek are disdained by fools on the right

armed, the militia, and ready to fight
gallantly ignorant, cowards in flight
red glaring demons who must not be named
oh say can you see…

the treason, collusion, hidden from sight
insomniac liars craving limelight
tempest torn islands, coastlands aflame
the star-spangled, brave resistance reclaims
liberty’s honor and freedom’s remains
oh, say can you see…

~kat

A Rondeau (aabba aabR aabbaR. Lines 9 and 15 are short – a refrain (R) consisting of a phrase taken from line one. The other lines are longer but all of the same metrical length) for Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats: Day Fourteen. Today’s quote is from ‘To Ireland in the Coming Times’. The photo is Francis Scott Key’s original manuscript copy of his “Star-Spangled Banner” poem. It is now on display at the Maryland Historical Society.


Magnetic Poetry Monday

we have only ourselves
to blame for the crap
embraced by fools
these days, who make
all things once sacred
a hot, wild mess that
eyes the ocean over
see, bringing them
to fits of laughter

~kat 😳

Magnetic Poetry – Poet Kit