NaPoWriMo 2013: Day 4

napofeature2Today, I will be offering two poems for NaPoWriMo. One based on the website prompt and the other based on the Facebook page prompt. The website prompt would like us to use one of the many Ian M. Banks spaceship names as a title to our poem. The Facebook page prompt asks us to use the last line of our Day 3 poem as the first line for this one.

Abundance of Onslaught

By: Meena Rose

O’er our blood and bloody ashes
Stream images of violence and
Attrocity – revolting yet compartmentalized;
We fight the wars madly jesticulating
From living room floors until the truth

Crashes in and flays you without mercy;
That family burned alive in their SUV,
They were your cousin, wife and three kids.
It is not enough to stop there as visions
Of sweet Zainab, the 14 year old waif, accosted

By the creek as she ran to and fro fetching
Water for an infirm grandmother – Zainab gang
Raped and left for dead – the seven burn marks
Could not mask her beauty as she was laid to
Rest. Yes, this war has become personal;

No longer relegated to a living room housing
One poet’s rage and anguish – little Ali, a
Precious babe but two years of age – kidnapped,
Cooked and gifted back to his parents;
His crime – born to a different religious sect.

The horror show is sadly real and I am caught
Speechless – in a state of complete shock;
Attempts at denial of the harsh truth
Have fallen flat on their face – an
Abundance of onslaught I did not seek.

Prosthetic Conscience

By: Meena Rose

Humanity, did you miss the recall?
The faulty prosthetic conscience
That seems to misfire and confuse
Wrong with right,
Destroying innocence at first sight?

Call me a luddite, if you will;
I am hanging on to mine – analog and
Manual without speedy overwrites that
Usher malvolence and menace unending;
I may be slow to judge but, in the end,

I do seem to still hold a light – my
Flintstone at the ready should it waver or
Be snuffed out. Call me stubborn, if you will;
I will continue to heed that ancient sound;
The primordial cry, the visceral urge,

The vibrant thrum of life newly begun;
Laments of sorrow, cries of joy;
Blended and fused – my heartsong, my paean;
For better or worse, forever an advocate of
Nocturn’s calm in face of diurnal fright.

4 thoughts on “NaPoWriMo 2013: Day 4

  1. claudsy says:

    Meena, that you can write the second poem after the first testifies as to your ability to hold hope for mankind. These last experiences for you would have tried more than hope, patience, or the mere thought of forgiveness for most. Retribution solves little in the face of the long view. It begets only more of itself for no more reason that mindless rage.

    These are both powerful pieces, each with images to shatter anyone’s calm, though for different reasons. You have done more in less time to resolve your own feelings in this than I could ever hope to manage. I weep with you today, my friend, knowing the pain you have felt and still feel. Rest now while others take up the cry against such insanity.

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