Zombie Call


In response to the Washington Post article “Is Poetry Dead”

Zombie Call

From their tombs and graves they rise
Zombie Poets: Homer, Poe, Lorde, and more

restless from rolling over
too many times. Muses

for the living poets who agree
there are things left to say.

History’s repetitions prove some stories
need to be retold and lessons relearned.

What say you Playwrights and Journalists
have you no tales to weave and news to bring?

Then why make poets redundant
in this information age and time of disparity.

As long as night remains juxtaposed with day
and we continue to fall at the heels of war

and kneel in a miracle’s wake
poets will fill a need.

All of us Veterans of  life
search for a place and voice.

Today’s world of technology and machines
does not mandate more form

it requires creative sovereignty.
Zombies is what we’ll be without some heartfelt poetry.

Shared for dVerse Open Link Night week 81 with Claudia behind the bar.

Creations’s Flow



Creation’s Flow

My eyes scan the face
pressed into the moon.
Death, ice cold and white
but only with the sun’s touch.
Spheres float in gravity’s pull
harnessed by invisible lines.
Parts of the whole we are not cogs
but survivors by will.

It reminds me of my dad’s translucent skin,
pale as mortality sips fire
from his core. Did he plant this flame?
Did mom? Conception lit the wick,
but the big bang came from within.
This universe of words that flow
and tangle in my puppet strings
take the parts and create the whole.

Shared with dVerse Meeting the Bar: Creativity