mermaidcamp
Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water
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winter-roseIn deepest slumber on the coldest night of my life
I was shown a vision with no explanation or key
A window appeared to float above my dreaming soul
It beckoned me to gaze into the unknown to learn
Why our daily lives now are so deeply troubled
Roses, symbols of love and sainthood, bloomed
Still somehow danger and decay very closely loomed
I woke in a cold sweat without a clue to what it all meant
#writephotoThis short poem is a response to the photo prompt this week on Sue Vincent’s Echo. Every week Sue post a new image to inspire writing. Please join us to read, comment, or write your own interpretation.
Step away from the battle, place your weapon on the ground
Look intensely at this serious enemy you think you have found
How does this stranger offend? What makes this human bad?
Your history with prejudice is rooted in a deeper cultural
belief
From which you now must free yourself in order to find some relief
Break with the past and change the scripted outcome before it is too late
Dangerous winds whistled in from the south with news
That change was in the air and revolutions brewed
In the darkness spies crawled into town like snakes
Slithering around the gossiping crowd, those slimy fakes
Gathered intelligence they planned to use in the war
Dust clouds on the horizon brought a shivers and fear
The future loomed so crazy, but there was nowhere
Left for anyone to go but there
The squeeze is on the middle class, the workers’ families
Will be brought up to sacrifice for the war machine
The overlords hold education over the heads of the population
Bringing slavery into closer focus for specific purposes
The reign of ignorance and terror begins in the classroom
But ends with the death of liberty and justice for all
The ship was grounded on the shoals
The Pilgrims had not yet achieved their goals
The crowd was hungry, tired, depressed and sick
There was no welcoming party with a magic trick
To heal the suffering and recover moral fortitude
All the tribe had to offer was comfort and food
With great trepidation they approached the invaders
Dressed in high hats and collars of religious crusaders
Busy Body takes a dim view of other fellow sculptures’ emotional needs
He fancies himself a special man among all the men who have ever been
His masquerade from day to day hides the truth he completely disregards
As just some kind of background noise from his own distant, fragile past
His foundation has eroded leaving his memory in a precarious position
He can go on pretending his shining honor has never been tarnished
But everyone knows his life was a series of misguided actions that killed him
Between the walls of the ruined buildings plants grew wild
Some metallic angels flew over the houses and smiled
Merry pranksters fell down laughing long after the joke
Any resentment or anger had long ago gone up in smoke
Vintage remnants of times that will not be remembered
Scatter over the narrow path like a fire burned down to embers
The coach pulls out at midnight to fly around the hills
The riders are invisible and the driver feels the chill
Of the howling wind as it whips through his bare bones
The stagecoach is a spirit vehicle with a will of its own
The destination is always kept secret until the horses stop
Then passengers are invited to the free store to shop
They rummage through the past, the deeds they left behind
The burden of past mistakes is magically lifted from the mind
They leave the area on foot with new paths to discover
Each one has witnessed transformation from which they will never recover
The Roman army built the arches, aqueducts, and city streets
Then conscripted the local constabulary, farmers and priests
They marched off to conquer and manage all humans and beasts
The emperor demanded tribute in service, and taxes paid in gold.
The able bodied were enslaved and abducted to serve the will of Rome
It is hard to say which one issue caused the empire to crumble and fall
Maybe that imperial power concentrated in one place was never real at all
The ruins of foundations laid down long ago are remnants from the past
Mighty political forces appear and disappear, never meant to last
This poem is in response to this week’s photo prompt on Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo. Join us each week to read, comment, or submit your own take on the photo. I think this poem is also inspired by today’s political climate.
Witch’s Brew I made a wish Upon a casserole dish, For my cauldron was at the menders; The handle was broken And it just wouldn’t work It just stood there on the ground; It made me feel like a berk; And I couldn’t borrow Brenda’s (As it was wash day). So, I resorted to Pyrex […]