Monday Poem #3a

Surprised By The Battleground

 

We were comrades when the ship

went down;

Our spirits scattered to the winds

like soaring gulls;

You wore a shocking white suit

and I, a red silk dress

And we danced to marimba

in the midst of horrors.

 

We heard the buzz-buzz of the

giant bee

As it made its line towards the

hardened ground;

Our bodies blasted to the winds

like dirty gulls;

Your white suit, smeared with

coffee-stains;

My red-silk dress blown up

over my head.

 

And we never saw it coming—

Though we held the divination sticks

in our shaking hands.

Kat Mortensen©2010 
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Monday Poem #2 (Not for meat-eaters)

hutched

Photo by Kat

(This is not a GREAT poem, but out of each effort, great or not so, comes a trace of possibility of something better. That’s my philosophy and I’m sticking to it!)

 

Poor Cow: A Love Poem

I could lose myself

in those benign brown eyes—

feel your firm flank

and run my fingers

through the soft hairs

in your hoary ears.

 

I stand at the roadside

and watch your placid  patrol

through the pastures

of your world.

 

I try to comprehend

your sadness

when they take

your children away

and hutch them up—

to turn them into

milk-fed veal.

Oh! The anguish

of the segregation—

the torment

as they tear the babe from

your teats.

 

And oh! The suffering

to come, when you

are sick and old

and fit only for

some low-grade

ground beef

at a burger- joint.

 

My lovely one,

how I weep for you

as they cart you off

in the cold, steel car—

your plaintive

call

as if you know

the time has come.

 

I could lose myself

in your sad, brown eyes,

but I can’t look at you.

 

Kat Mortensen©2010 
Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape

One of Our Own

Photo by Peadar O’Donoghue

TFE has informed those of us who ride The Poetry Bus that one of our members has passed away.

We take for granted, I think, everyday, that those with whom we communicate in this cyberworld will be here each day, to make their posts, or comment back and forth or even e-mail or “message” us or friend us on Facebook. The real world only occasionally usurps our guilty online pleasure.

Today, join with me and others who are comrades over at Totalfeckineejit and please follow this link to honour one of our “fallen” who was a lovely and caring individual and a wonderful poet and has recently passed from our presence and from this earth.

TFE’s link to Drama Queen’s post.

Thanks,

Kat

Blame it on the TFE! (Monday Music Poem)

Gypsy Wife

Even before it begins,
I know how it will go–
a smooth merlot
or two,
and you will
chase me up
those stairs again
fall upon the bed again,
to his voice – that voice
and sweet refrain:
“My Gypsy Wife”.

Was I that wild
in your eyes too?
when first we met
and love was new;
you chased me
up the stairs
back then
without the balalaika’s
strain.
Where, where
has she gone?

Pour me
another one.
Let’s see if we
can find her once again–
your gypsy wife.

Kat Mortensen©2009

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(Leonard Cohen: The Gypsy’s Wife)