To fit ships inside bottles is indeed very clever,
but I would prefer that my bottles held rum.
To ship boats in boxes – though no lofty endeavor –
while sipping on rum could be fittingly fun.
Moral:
Drunk lips drink ships; bottled boats don’t float.
August 6th is the anniversary of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. For the dVerse Monday haibun challenge, poet Frank J. Tassone suggested we write a haibun “that states or alludes to either the Hiroshima attack, or one of the themes of the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Ceremony, such as peace, the abolition of nuclear weapons, or the horror of nuclear war.”
From my place of privilege, I would rather post about my pets, show photos of flowers… you know, the nice feel good stuff. I almost passed on this week’s poetry challenge, but given the current state of the world, I felt it important that I not do so. So, not my usual fare, but in my thoughts:
It never really registered, when I viewed the black and white newsreels. The children, in the street, crying. Some naked, their clothes having been burned off their bodies. Some… I wouldn’t even want to describe it. I wouldn’t want to put it into words, because then maybe it would cease to be a black and white movie, and it would be real. Real flesh and… flesh and…
… the flesh, it was melting off their arms.
Mushroom cloud rising
I can only imagine –
no, not even that
Reluctantly I select one.
Meaningless; set it down.
Bored, I ponder others.
These to the left; those up top.
Angry, I’m seeing red.
To the right with those.
Puzzled, I look up.
“It’s forming a picture.”
“Yes,” smiles the therapist.
“That’s how this works.”
I saw it coming from the start.
It all just sounded too good to be true.
Later it seemed too bad to be true, but it was.
When you tell enough lies, they start to sound true.
Truth hurts sometimes, but only if you believe it.
Lies hurt, too, because truth always prevails.
I never saw it coming.
