Linda

POETRY IS WHAT THE SOULS OF THE ANCIENTS SPEAK TO THOSE STILL SEEKING WHAT IS MOST BEAUTIFUL IN THE WORLD. FROM: LINDA

Sunday, April 11, 2021

 Thank you to Mark Antony Rossi of Ariel Chart for publishing my three poems in the April issue.

https://www.arielchart.com









Good Help Is Really Hard To Find

                  (For Mark)

  

Gloria gripes to Brian,

“There ought to be a law.

These domestics all have creaky joints.

It has to be a design flaw.”

 

“Quality control’s a problem.

They have limited mobility.

The factory that manufactures them

should have a better, longer warranty.”

 

“They don't understand their programming.

Their power source is weak.

Repetitive tasks should be a cinch,

but their sensory systems are hard to tweak.”

 

“This planet should make a worldwide pact right now,”

She spoke with acumen.

Then this cyborg waved her robotic arms,

“No more hiring puny humans!”








Exhilaration Along the Dark Road

 

Ill-prepared for gloom,

and the seep of murk.

The awful bound of somber shades

and unmoving lightlessness.

The stygian, sterile fail of a mental sarcophagus.

Emotions shivery in a sunless morn.

The vague memory of used up relevance.

 

Carry not a creed of ignorance.

Not all is worthwhile.

There are incontrovertible truths,

known by most,

that those who read it as Delphic

scramble in an attempt to perceive missing pieces,

that lack of facts strewn across desert-like expanses.

 

No use sealing the door 

through which ignorance may flow,

while still leaving the walls as they are,

until you are so desperate for air and life.

No use disturbing routine,

Unlimited trapping,

no nostrum to cure the ennui.

 

Grasp each dream,

and turn it,

like a Rubik’s cube

to bring truth and light to your life.







Chester


Chester ran across the road,

or tried to.

He didn't quite make it.

Here comes running

the one who neither believed

in licenses nor leashes.

 

A truth as hard as the concrete

across which Chester is now spilled,

entering her mind,

as tears of remorse

are spilled also.

 

Then Chester stands,

once again whole,

without blood-soaked fur.

He gives himself a quick shake,

and runs on,

runs like the wind.

Nothing’s gonna stop him 

in his new world.

 


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