You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘climate change’ tag.

TGAP 3 Week #2

Artwork from TGAP3 Week 1 by fellow geek: Sue O’Connor
She said, “There are still
Areas of flood with bodies
Floating. They – the UN-
Haven’t gotten to them
Yet.”
 
I suppose you have to hydrate
The living
Before you can pan
For the dead.
Artwork by fellow geek: Michael S. Piper

TwinGeekz is a loose affiliation of loose affiliates in New Hampshire who began the TwinGeekz Artz Project challenge in May of 2005; the task was for each of the original seven participants to produce and submit a piece of art every week for one year.  Every artist succeeded in completing their 52 pieces of art, and thus the TGAP theory was proven: “all creativity needs is a deadline”. 

Let’s do it again! #tgap2020 join us!

December 26, 2016

Good Christian men and women want
To rejoice, and for eight years
We could. Now, all spells
Doom and we make room

In our hears and lives
To take up arms against
A sea of troubles. Perhaps,
A literal one, as those who

Deny science take power
In the name of greed

At the expense of creed.

This is Poem #226 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

November 6, 2016

We pretend it is okay;
That every year is not hotter
Than the last, and that everyone
Within our borders has enough

To eat if they are willing
To work for it. Inside
The meta-cortex grey matter
Of our brains, however,

Everyone knows this is false.
We rant around a backyard
Fire, burning brush and bridges;
Wondering what Tuesday

Will mount - a hill to climb
Or a cavern to descend.

This is Poem #195 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state. 

September 26, 2016

Find the best Poohstick bridges in England


Pooh stands over water
On a sturdy stone bridge -

Poohsticks on a fall
Afternoon. In the morning,
The day had so much promise.

Windy rain could drive
Us back indoors to watch
Disney movies, eat
Microwave popcorn. But,

The world evolves quickly,
And seasons loop
Through our lives.

It's too hot, then
Too cold. Will we
Depend on anything

Anymore when blizzards
White out July and sun
Blazes down on Christmas?

Keep at it, world.
Leaders will debate
Things they've no business

Doubting and we'll
Watch the South
Sink and the West
Continue up in a blaze

Of fury.

This is Poem #171 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state. 

I clearly had climate change on my mind during this most recent offering of verse.

September 23, 2016

All is straw now - and
Poking through the cracks -
Abandoned in those Dog Days.

Abandoned Dog Days lead
Into busy work
And constructing
Lessons for clay.

Forget the leisure beach
Reads and strolls
Through Prescott Park.

Boston Common calls
Us too - and old
Brownstone houses
In need of tourists,
Compliments, and footprints.

The trees are not naked
Yet - they are holding on
In spite of record draught.

And the doubt
of whether or not
our seasons will remain

as they have been
since things were

written down.

This is Poem #170 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state. 

July 29, 2016


Where Doris Duke's camels
Fed on lush lawns, and gardeners
Designed topiary tributes,

All is brown and gone. The
View of the rough waters altered
After a rolling hill
Of crunchy turf.

Last night, we met a couple,
Waiting in line for a cruise,
Whose state has been on fire
For years, and deny
Climate change is real. 


This is Poem #133 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

bigfoot_20lodge_20sign.0

So, Big Foot walks

Up to you in a bar –

Says, “First, I’m real.”

 

You sip your beer,

Trying to be nonchalant,

Keeping your amazement

Under wraps. “Second,”

 

He says, “Climate

Change is real. Just

Ask my cousin, the Yeti.”

 

You imagine the melting

Ice cave – the slop

on the kitchen floor –

 

The rising sea

Levels drowning

Miami, Hawaii,

 

Odiorne State Park.

Big Foot, it seems,

Was here the whole

time and laughing.

 

But, no more. “What

Do you choose to believe

In and who

informs your choice?”

 

This is Poem #48 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map above, and write from there.

 

 

monarch__1_

It is like heroin,

This need to know how

The Universe really functions,

 

And why our world

Is dying. (Who will care

about these words

 

when we’re all dead?)

Little girls chase

Monarch Butterflies

Around the yard with nets

 

Once released from classroom

Tanks and penguin

Videos rule the world.

 

(She hates science,

now we know. Can’t

have anyone thinking

critically when it disproves

her false truth.)

 

The man behind

The podium tries

To lie with an honest

Face, while fat

Checks from Koch

Brothers rot

In the bank and murder

Seven billion people,

And the Monarchs,

And the penguins.

 

This is Poem #45 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

What fuels our need

To know, to seek

Out the answers

Through myth,

 

Or through science?

Humans have always wanted

To know from where

They’ve come. Theories

 

Abound. 6,000 years

Placed by a God or

Bangs that were

Big. Millions of years

Of fossils not

Enough evidence to convince

(or convict) some

That an ancient text

Might be inaccurate.

 

We live in a time

When (morons) choose

Not to believe in

Science. Life,

Method, reason,

 

Data, even, are all biased

And to be disputed.

 

Whose power of denial

Is so strong that

They’ll watch the

Earth die

Outside their backdoors

While marking the wrong

Vote with black pen.

 

This is Poem #43 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

 

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map below, and write from there.

 

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

Goodreads

Lady Diction’s Calendar

April 2020
M T W T F S S
 12345
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
27282930