VANISHING SOLUTION . . . and other responses to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt
“In the long run, the sharpest weapon of all is a kind and gentle spirit.”
The last Wednesday Writing Prompt, Plotting a Story, January 31, 2019 was a real challenge and it speaks volumes that it is so very difficult for us to envision a world where murder, torture, separation, and starvation are no longer options. What would such a world look like? Intrepid souls all, Gary W. Bowers, Irma Do, Jen Goldie and Anjum Wasim Dar have risen to the occasion. Well done, poets, and thank you!
Enjoy this little collection and do join us tomorrow for the next Wednesday Writing Prompt.
dew unto others
turned blue and combusted
came with the aerosol
all who breathed hue
dusted off bigotry
shed their misanthropy
new things to do
included feasts mustered
for clusters of needy
and all were ungreedy
and utopia custard
frustrated our devils
and we reached new levels
all due to a psychologist
and major-league geneticist
and freejack climatologist
her name was diana
late of tijuana
born in bora bora
when asked of the process
she wasn’t specific:
“i alchemized raw cess
found in the pacific
“a punster’s emotion
for making an ocean
live up to its name.”
© 2019, Gary W. Bowers (On With Clay / Image and Text)
Vanishing Solution – A Rubaiyat
To vanquish all the demons of senseless aggression
The women left, with children on hips, for vacation
Without the men and older ones, corrupted too soon
In the middle of the night, they left without resignation.
It started with whispers under the heartbroken moon
Mothers left behind who wanted to hear a new tune
The song of “I’m sorry” for rape, murder, starvation
Made for a hollow dirge in the empty baby room.
Without any recourse than to cry and wail with rage
The women made a plan to change the history page
Eve’s disobedience might be original sin
But Cain killing Able spotlight the violent stage
Without testosterone, how/where would the anger begin?
It became clear that peace could never start from within
Add in voices loud with societal machismo
Can’t unlearn this behavior yet men had no chagrin
It took years to create the perfect utopia
Women agreed there was only one panacea
As much as it hurt to acknowledge the truth of it
Leave them behind, the only viable idea.
After kisses and climaxes for the lucky ones,
And tender tough love goodbyes for those who had older sons
The women vanishing in one night of defiance
Bringing babies, clothes, food, seeds, tools to create, no guns
When the world awoke, there was silence then confusion
There was crying and wailing and raging delusion
The accusations turned deadly with no end in sight
The world was burning, cleansing all those in collusion
And the women waited, teaching their children new ways
With emotional regulation, without fake praise
Listening, reflection, the basis for discussion
Decisions consensus, not perfect, a better phase.
Is separation the best course of action for now?
Or work hard together and put our backs to the plough?
I don’t know the answer or the moral of this tale
To change our world, what are we willing to disavow?
This is my first attempt at a rubaiyat – inspired by Frank Hubeny at dVerse call to action. Feedback is welcome and most appreciated!
The theme is in response to Patrick’s Pic and a Word Challenge #172 – Vanishing as well as Jamie Dedes’ Wednesday Writing Prompt. Jamie’s prompt this week deserved a lot of thought – it was hard (for me at least) to imagine what a world would be like without murder, torture, starvation. In writing this poem, I am NOT saying that all the bad in the world are due to men but statistically, most of the violence in the world are perpetuated by those with a Y chromosome.
I don’t think separation is the answer. As the saying goes, if you’re not part of the solution…however, sometimes I do just want to take a vacation from all the strife I hear about in the world. Yet, where would we go?
©️ 2019, Irma Do (I Do Run … And I do a few other things too)
He came to the end of the road,
looked left and looked right,
He feared looking forward.
His father once said,
Endings are beginnings
Concealed as doors,
and hidden from view, so,
Seek your way through.
But these doors were murky,
Hard and impervious,
Stained with blood and bone
by the scratching of nails on
the aged worn wood,
yearning for freedom,
tears have etched trails, with
deepening grooves of sadness,
in its woody worn frame.
These are days to remember,
Not days to forget.
Solemnly he gazed
into his Father’s vacant eyes,
We’ll find a way through.
© 2019, Jen E. Goldie (Jen Goldie, Poetry and Short Stories)
The Noonday Place
Where are you going son?
To the Noonday Place Papa.
Where’s that son?
Where the sun shines!
And where the light lives!
The light Son?
Yes! the light!
Where the children play!
It’s a living place Papa,
A living place?
No hurting, no fighting
Where the flowers bloom
Where the birds sing
Where the rivers run.
Is that all son?
Is that all you need?
Thy will be done.
© 2019, Jen E. Goldie (Jen Goldie, Poetry and Short Stories)
Still, Silent and Serene
no murder, nor starvation or separation
no people to torture, now you shall
see, no enemy
warm feelings smiling eyes, cool
raindrops dropping from the skies,
on a green carpeted vast expanse
embroidered from edge to edge,
said the one who saw the white horse run
no guns, no rifles or grenades
no barbed wires or walls، who
would ever think of sinning
not one all would be in, for Heaven
said the one who saw the fiery horse driven
the Earth grows green, sweet gold
honey abounds even if we eat it all,
still there is more and more ,for the
seasons changing, times coming-
said the one who saw the black horse fall.
the showers bloom the buds
life reawakens from deep slumber
graves descend to the depths beneath
disease defeated must await its orders
said the one who saw the pale horse chained,
the world in perpetual beauty
peace silence fragrance abound
streams crystalline carry music
no shots nor blasts anywhere sound
no envy or pride, nor greed nor
sloth to slow and hide all good
behind, go not for lust, for dust
we are and shall to dust, return,
said the one who saw four horses gallop away
the world is still silent and serene.
©2019, poem (English and Urdu) and illustration, Anjum Wasim Dar (Poetic Oceans)
یہ دنیا کیسی ھو اگر ظلم و تشدد قتل و غارت فاقہ کشی و جدایؑ نہ ھو
دنیا کی حقیقت بس ؑ عارظی و فانی اک مدت مقرر ہ تک ھے
گر ظلم و تشدد قتل و فاقہ کشی نہ ھو تو کویؑ دشمن بھی نہ ھو
محبت بھری مسکراھٹ ٹھنڈی بوںدوں کے موتی سبز وسعت پہ گرتے ھوں
کنارے سے کنارے تک نقش و نیگار کھلتے ھوں تو سب پر امن کیوں نہ ھوں
نہ ھتھیار نہ جنگ، نہ خاردار تار نا دیوار ایسے ماحول میں کون گنہگار ھو
کیوں کر ممکن ھوجب نہ خطاوار نہ مجرم تو کویؑ محسن بھی نہ ھو
ھریالی زمیں روانی شہد خوراک کی فراوانی موسم کی لازوال کہانی ھو
خوش حالی و سکوں، کیسے ممکں ھے کہ پایلؑ کی جھن جھن بھی نہ ھو
ھسین رنگین دنیا، عارطی ھے پیرہن، زندہ رہیں کہ فلحال امراز مر چکے
نفرت نہ غرور نہ لالچ کریں انجم ، من پاک ھو ، میلا مگر تن بھی نہ ھو
یہ دنیا پر سکوں خاموش اور خو بصورت ھی ھو گی
“POETRY PEACE and REFORM Go Together -Let Us All Strive for PEACE on EARTH for ALL -Let Us Make a Better World -WRITE To Make PEACE PREVAIL.” Anjum Wasim Dar
Poet and writer, I was once columnist and associate editor of a regional employment publication. I currently run this site, The Poet by Day, an information hub for poets and writers. I am the managing editor of The BeZine published by The Bardo Group Beguines (originally The Bardo Group), a virtual arts collective I founded. I am a weekly contributor to Beguine Again, a site showcasing spiritual writers. My work is featured in a variety of publications and on sites, including: Levure littéraure, Ramingo’s Porch, Vita Brevis Literature,Compass Rose, Connotation Press, The Bar None Group, Salamander Cove, Second Light, I Am Not a Silent Poet, Meta / Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman. My poetry was recently read by Northern California actor Richard Lingua for Poetry Woodshed, Belfast Community Radio. I was featured in a lengthy interview on the Creative Nexus Radio Show where I was dubbed “Poetry Champion.”
The BeZine: Waging the Peace, An Interfaith Exploration featuring Fr. Daniel Sormani, Rev. Benjamin Meyers, and the Venerable Bhikkhu Bodhi among others
“What if our religion was each other. If our practice was our life. If prayer, our words. What if the temple was the Earth. If forests were our church. If holy water–the rivers, lakes, and ocean. What if meditation was our relationships. If the teacher was life. If wisdom was self-knowledge. If love was the center of our being.” Ganga White, teacher and exponent of Yoga and founder of White Lotus, a Yoga center and retreat house in Santa Barbara, CA
“Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.” Lucille Clifton