Category Archives: Social Issues

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


Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 12 November 2017

With every sensational soundbite, those who are paying too close attention (I am all to easily sucked in…guilty as charged) are reeling from the downward spiral of our uncivil civilization. I happen to have an American front row seat, but from your comments; you my friends across the pond, and from the north, south and east, this current state of unrest seems to be global. With nuclear options being flexed and monsters being exposed, I have even heard the “A” word mumbled under pundits baited breaths. “A” for apocalypse…oh my!

But I’m not buying it. And, well, if I’m wrong….that’s okay. I can deal with being wrong especially since there won’t be anyone around to say “I told you so…” Why am I not buying it? Not yet? There is still enough good in the world to hold this implosion at bay. Patriarchy is going down. Hate is being exposed for the ugly blight that it is. And we are starting to believe the women…and the innocents when they point at the emperor declaring that he is buck naked. He’s always been naked. I know it’s a shock, but that’s how truth rolls.

At any rate, the bad guys will still try to distract us from the truth, blame the victims, call monsters heroes. I don’t expect them to go down without a fight. But they are clearly desperate. That’s a good sign.

I know you’re weary. But we’re in the final stretch it seems to me. The apocalypse may be coming, but for a chosen few. I expect to be standing when the smoke settles.

Peace, truth, love…resist! ❤️

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 12 November 2017

she lights up a room / she’s a sorceress cackling, tock-tick-tick-tock-<
ainful<
..sorry to interrupt your eternal bliss<
ool nor-eastern zephyr whispers<
aging from coal soot nostrils<
rumbling to dust<
he burning stench of liquid iron, oozing<
hoose me, choose me<
..haven for hoards of crude middling beasties<
irtue is disdained<
oo beautiful to bear<
o not lose heart<
hey’re going down<
eartless fools who<
ish that you were here instead<
..brief glimmers of recognition

~kat

A shi sai or 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 shi sai features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Drain The Swamp

‘And he saw how the reeds grew dark
At the coming of night-tide,’  W.B. Yeats

Drain the Swamp

a congress of reeds congregates in the shadows
corrupted, its oil glutted rodomont brims,
impassable moat churning pristine and brackish
host to edge dwellers too fearful to swim

as murky gray fog settles round its foundation
turbidity swirls, fire tangoing with ice
the tide ebbs disturbing its frail underpinning
sweeping them into all manner of vice

this haven for hoards of crude middling beasties
conceals crawling shape-shifters, long-legged fowl
slimy, amphibious, hideous predators
hiding sub-surface, always on the prowl

~kat

Today’s Prompt Verse for Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats – Day Ten Poetry Challenge is from Yeats’ poem, ‘The Host of the Air.’ I resisted looking up the poem this time, before writing my own, because I wanted to focus entirely on the words of the verse. At first glance I imagined sunset rouged, tidal wetlands, with tall sea wheat and cattails; the day surrendering to evening. But when I looked up the word ‘reed’  I discovered it has a myriad of possible definitions; one in particular that caught me eye...from Webster: a person without strength of character. Oh…it went on…doorman, jellyfish, namby-pamby, pushover, weakling, wimp, coward, milquetoast, mouse, nebbish, nervous Nellie (or nervous Nelly), pussy [slang], wuss (also wussy) sheep. Not the idyllic scene I first imagined, but hey…I went with it, with a melding of the two. With so many reeds to inspire me on the world stage these days, how could I resist?!


Now is Not the Time…

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From Creative Commons at Pixabay.com

‘Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam,
And Usna’s children died.’  – W.B. Yeats

Now is Not the Time…

the burning stench of liquid iron, oozing
clouds of ether, billowing from hell’s hot gate
midst crimson pools of life on pews, congealing
silent screams of innocents who met a too soon fate
with cool resign they sacrifice the children
offering thoughts and prayers as consolation
while coddling the vain and self-indulgent
as more blood spills they crush all condemnation
it makes no sense, this detour from all reason
building up tall walls just keep monsters inside
until this ends, the meek remain in season
don’t believe them when they say they care…they lie

~kat

Not sure what style of poem this is. It started out at a Rispetto, but I had more to say that two stanza’s would allow. So here it is then, a modified verse that rhymes and plods along in an iambic cadence some 11 syllables per line. Of course this is the ninth day of Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats. Today’s inspiration comes once again from‘The Rose of the World’ by W.B. Yeats.