The me becomes lost
amidst all of thee crowding,
flower choked by weeds.
AGING SPACES
Somewhere along the way
the package I carried has been mislaid.
Since I did not notice it missing until today
its importance has made little impact, I’d say.
The years rolled by day-after-day.
space where the package once stayed
grew dusty with age.
Until the day, where nothing could stop the rage
of loneliness filling page-after-page;
searching for communion with those not my age.
Old connections are no longer stable and sure
as death knocks at too many old friends’ doors.
That space covered in dust reminds me anew
of those friends I mislaid as loneliness grew.
Seeking youth and more life is nothing new.
But, I know this to be true.
Old friends can never be replaced.
Their faces remain. They occupy my space.
Their love for me is my only pride.
Dead or alive they fill every space inside
where memory and love will always abide.
Filed under POETRY
MY KNEES HURT
My skin is now too thin.
it cracks on my feet and bleeds
from pressure rising inside damaged knees,
throwing legs into a spin
and buckling under the strain
threatening falls again and again.
I hold on with tightened fists
gathered by my side, mislaid
and held in check, afraid
of striking out instead of balancing
against the forces dragging me down.
My body mimics my emotional gown
caught against my legs by autocratic winds
that bind my forward motion,
strangling reality and truthful notions,
knocking my legs out from under me,
demeaning my humanity
with white supremacy.
All I know is how hard it is to stand;
but, how necessary it is in order to outrun
the gerrymandering brigands
who would see democracy undone.
So, on my leg I place a brace
to hold my leg steady
while I rest upon the couch,
heal and make certain I am ready
when it is time to vote hate out.
BAKE BROWNIES
Life got you down?
Bake brownies.
Feeling all alone?
Bake brownies.
Knees buckling from the strain?
Bake brownies.
Tired of all the heat and rain?
Bake brownies.
No solutions to be found?
Bake brownies.
Sighing with a tired smile?
Bake brownies.
Ready to rest for just awhile?
Bake brownies.
Need to set guilt aside?
Bake brownies.
Need a place to hide?
Bake brownies.
Want to quiet the voice in your head?
Bake brownies.
Taking a break from all you dread?
Bake brownies.
Tomorrow is another day.
Today, bake brownies.
Filed under POETRY
COLOR BLIND JUSTICE
A loose grip is also confining;
its implied threat still real.
Shackles are not needed
to confine the body and the soul.
Only part of the story is told by polls.
The majority of Americans
would see us all free.
One grip, by one arm,
one threatening voice to hold me down
for simply being Black or Brown;
for gender choice, or a soft woman’s voice
the gripping fear of one can drown
an entire nation.
And, bring it to its knees
along with those like me.
The gun held against the spine from behind
is just as confining as the chains of slavery.
The raised fist, laws on the books
to force a life-threatening pregnancy
are equally destructive to me.
It has never been about the numbers
the justices rulings proclaim,
when the majority would see us free.
It is about the fawning few who reek of power,
wealth and greed and seek to control
the likes of you and me.
Blindness is a convenient tool
of those who refuse to see
threats now made so openly,
on the streets and airwaves,
on social media, in open courts
and at political rallies.
The narrative of the fascists of old
has not grown cold over the centuries.
It has grown hotter, and now is so bold
even judges blindly embrace its hold.
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SLAVA UKRAINI: POEMS FOR PEACE
by LOUISE ANNARINO | Dec 3, 2022
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Filed under Uncategorized
REVERBERATION
The persistence of slavery,
Jim Crow, and voter suppression
is not a reflection.
It is a reverberation,
the persistence of dehumanization,
after it has been stopped by legislation.
It bounces in a steady beat
from the surface of sexist, racists in defeat
within the closed surface of a court
reflecting the beliefs of the sort
of persons who know better but insist
that white male supremacy must persist.
This is not a new phenomenon.
It is the echo of a time long gone.
And yet its power is amplified
within the power structure which has denied
the rights of people to be free
of such discriminatory ignominy.
We cannot dance to this tune of hate.
Such evil we must abate
by refusing to allow the many incidents
of courts refusing to follow precedent,
which bend the arc of justice so low
we begin to ask them all to go
back to the rock they crawled out from under
before they tear the nation asunder.
Filed under POETRY
POLLYANNA
Pollyanna is misunderstood.
She does not smile because
her world is perfect.
She smiles because
nothing is.
No disappointment finds its way
to destroy her imperfectly happy day.
Filed under POETRY
GOOD MOURNING
Morning, hidden by smoke haze, weakens resolve
after sins no dreams could resolve.
An anger so deep and profound,
the pain of our loss deadens the sound
of hurt and betrayal in silence, tightly bound.
Anger and fear choke the woke
whose only sin is that truth should abound
and evil be run to the ground,
and that love can be felt all around;
that every child can live in hope
in a country where fear has been defeated
and guns are no longer needed
to feel safe
on this morning,
in this space
where I wake mourning.
I wake. I am woke.
I keep moving
to a place where we
shall overcome
again
and again
and again.
Good Mourning !
Filed under POETRY
THE END OF AFFIRMATIVE ACTION
Back to running the race barefoot
across dank and dirty streets
covered in the broken glass of misery
and dreams untold, unable to unfold
the promise of equality
between the shoeless forgotten humanity
and the well-shod, well-trained, well-fed
and well-funded runners
placed feet ahead of the starting line.
The Supreme Court handles the gun
announcing the start of the run.
The race has always been fixed by race
to keep everyone in their place.
The lies continue to run free,
and destroy our dream of equality.
Turning back the race clock follows
turning back the women’s clock
denying opportunity to overcome
the way the race has always been run.
We are in a race for our lives.
None of us should be surprised.
So, still I run. Still, I run.
Still, I run.
