Humans, just figures in headlights and rear-view mirrors:
targets, possessions, poisons.
Trading familiarity for quantity,
no purpose, no own route,
no added aroma.
Weighted down, heave and hard as metal.
Design the new cycle –
Job? Serve, embrace, listen.
This is what I call fun! Although I ended up with a rather dystopian poem.
I would love to do this in the proper cut-words-our-of-newspapars way but I don’t have any at hand. Instead I used a book (no scissors were called into action). I bought this book about three years ago and is still pristine as the day it came home with me. It is called ‘Periodic Tales: The Curious Lives of the Elements‘ by Hugh Aldersay-Williams. And I have no idea why I haven’t read it yet. I don’t have an explanation.
My gym is primarily visited by office people so there is not much huffing and puffing going on there. I don’t really know many bodybuilders with day jobs in banking. I don’t really know any bodybuilders full stop. I’ve only met one, actor Rob Archer and he is an absolute sweetheart.
Anyway, I’m not saying iron pumping is a synonym for making random lound scary sounds. It is more of the macho attitude that comes with it that I have a problem with. So when someone like that comes to my gym, he will get noticed. Dude, you’re not there alone.
What should be also noticed is the ongoing LGBT discrimination.
I was very torn whether or not to include a comment on this poem or not. Especially because instead of talking about the environmental crisis we are in and which I’ve tried to express in my poem – I actually wanted to mention fingers as tools for communication. I did a writing course few year back and there was a girl (whose name I don’t remember and it is driving me absolutely crazy) who was and I guess still is a puppeteer. She also was and I hope still is an amazingly talented poet. I loved her poems. I will never forget a line she wrote ‘my hand is a naked puppet’ and it was the first thing that popped in my head when I read the assignment for today. I’m sure you know someone who ‘talks with their hands’, use them to emphasise emotion and when you are in different country and don’t speak the language – how many times have you used the pointing technique? Fingers have their own voice – whether it is the official sign language or one that we use without even realising.
I seek the sadness in the crowd of seven faces
I'm surprised by so many.
As a child I prayed every night
I asked God for forgiveness that only I could give
- but how do you forgive fear?
I stand inside this dead house sheltering
my heart colder than the frigid limbs hidden
in the coffin
Maybe one day I will forgive
but not today. The dead body will not change it.
Then I remember.
You are still alive.
I’m having so much fun attending this writing class – I’m looking forward to the weekend just to read some of the other poems and meet new people. I have only managed a fraction so far and I am impressed by the talent that is here. Well done you folks!
Do you find it difficult to find compassion for your mother diagnosed with cancer? For a friend whose house was burgled? Colleague who lost his child? I’m guessing no.
How about the drug addict who broke into your neighbour’s house, the drunk driver who smashed your car or the stray dog who bit your boyfriend? What about that smelly homeless man that sleeps on the bench in front of library and picks up cigarette butts or the group of boys that leave them behind?
I think to have compassion requires willingness to understand one’s feelings, life situation, background but also to learn not to judge too quickly or too harshly.
Trouble spotters glued to their monitors in Houston
Routine day in the office –
Out in the past linking the present.
Utilising theories, hypothesis and knowledge to
Till anti-matter with our curiosity,
Illustrious men and women
Lusting to reach the big bang.
Us, trusting the science.
Space fascinates and terrifies me in equal measures. I admire everyone who has dedicated their lives to studying and exploring the universe and the courage of the individuals who go out there pretty much alone for months, living and working in confined quarters, without real food or gravity. I’d love to visit a space rocket/vessel/ship (because who wouldn’t) but it would have to be safely parked here on this lovely planet.
As for the form – acrostic – I’m not entirely sure if I fit in with this poem or not but I am most certainly playing with the letters. I have taken second, third and fourth letter of the first word in the line and started a new world/line with these three letters, and I did this for all the lines.
Past -> Astronaut
Astronaut -> Strong etc
Only exception being Illustrious -> Lusting where I ignored the double L.
For a more straightforward acrostic poem, let me allow to refer you to one of my older posts – where I didn’t even know that this is a form and it has a name. I can be very ignorant.