America’s Pastime

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here
Today
to plaay ball!

American Anthem, hat in hand-
Bleary eyes and bottle for a microphone-
Small town karaoke version of patriotism vomited in the evening air

With beer- and bated breath they waited
for the first pitch-

Foul ball and foul attitude washed down with a ballpark frank covered in mustard

Sweaty hands sail dreams in paper airplanes toward home plate-

Hometown heroes get the 21 gun salute.

The prompt is “dearly beloved we are gathered here today” from Maria Giesbrecht @theguelphpoet on Instagram. April 6, National Poetry Month 2022.

Alien

Alien:
Foreign
Different
Unusual
Strange
Out of place,
But not race
Or ethnicity–

This place
My home
Now unknown
Hatred sowed
Divided
Despair
Unfair
Unrecognizable:
Alien–

Migrants in a makeshift encampment outside a Border Patrol station in McAllen, Tex., in May.

– Written for FBCWoo Poetry Group Prompt 3: List Poem. Write a poem that takes the form of a list. Photo from Loren Elliott/Reuters featured in the New York Times article, Squalid Conditions at Border Detention Centers, Government Report Finds.

Privileged to Have Known You

I weep for you –
A long lost friend,
Like a faded memory,
Of when we would play pretend –

A familiar street
Where I used to roam,
When my youth shielded me from your bitter truth
And the street lights led me home –

But with time my eyes were opened
And you did not look the same –
An empty ache still plagues me,
Something I cannot quite name –

It makes me weep –
The past that I was privileged to know,
An illusion that did not see the pain,
Just shades of perception, my ego –

Oh, America of my childhood, you shifty fellow,
You shady lady; I see you now in the shadows
Mocking me for my naiveté — and awareness —
Promising that I shall know no repose.

– USA Abstract by AK Rockefeller .

Grey Nation (Uncertainty)

I cannot see through the grey, through the fog,
Through the uncertainty, that fills the air, my heart.
I hear only muffled chaos and tremble.
I wrap a battered flag around me
And use it to wipe away the tears.
A few tears fall for me, more for others,
For a bloody history bound to repeat.
I cannot see through the grey, through the hate,
Through the lies from all sides, the indifference,
A dirty lens that distorts the view and trivializes the pain.
Battered like my flag, I am bruised and used as a pawn
To fan the flames and distract from their game, to manipulate
The fate of a nation.

Ocean and Island in the Fog. Porteau Cove Howe Sound. Sea to Sky Highway. British Columbia, Canada, 2016.

– Written for Pix To Words Pic And A Word Challenge #63. Word and Photo prompts. Word was “grey.” Photo prompt by Patrick Jennings.