Sunday, July 10, 2016

The country is in an uproar bc of Police Violence - Three Poems: Walking the Pennypack Trail at Twilight - One Less Fly - You have quaified for a platinum Card

Lots of people like me tried to forget about the racial divide in our country today, but everything was rekindled when Philando Castile - 32 yrs old - was shot to death multiple times in Minnesota. His GF Diamond Reynolds filmed the slow bleeding death of her boyfriend.

From Wiki - On July 6, 2016, Philando Castile was fatally shot by Jeronimo Yanez, a St. Anthony, Minnesota, police officer, after being pulled over in Falcon Heights, a suburb of St. Paul. Castile was driving a car with his girlfriend, Diamond Reynolds, and her four-year-old daughter when he was pulled over by Yanez and another officer.[1][2][3]

According to Reynolds, Castile was stopped for a broken rear light, and after being asked for his license and registration, told the officer he was licensed to carry a concealed weapon and had one in the car.[4] Reynolds stated: "The officer said don't move. As he was putting his hands back up, the officer shot him in the arm four or five times."[2]

When you look on the Internet you will find so many lies and half-truths about the case. Everyone has their opinion.

There was a story in one of the local Patch columns about a decent police force in Woonsocket R I. I read most of it. Loads of comments.

I was hoping our local Upper Moreland Police Force would speak out.

WHERE ARE OUR leaders when we need them. Obama is doing an excellent job trying to calm down the nation over these racial atrocities. 

Scott and I walked the Pennypack today. He came over while I was watching my new favorite show Criminal Minds.

We always guess if the park will be crowded. Not really.

We got a good 40 minute walk in. I was covered with suntan lotion. While walking, I thought, I feel so at home walking in the woods. I feel like I was born here.

Loud singing of BORN FREE... FREE AS A BIRD.... Next a shot of a wild animal maiming yours truly, which she swats with her backpack.

Ready for some poems?

No back talk please.


Quickly we leave civilization behind
and enter the wilderness. From the newly
built wooden bridge we gaze at the
Pennypack River below. Last night's
rain has it swirling and eddying below
a perfect place for adventurous children
to drown.

The river, called Pennickapacka, by the
native Americans, before we sent them
packing, is wild, inviting. If you're
like me, you wonder how it would feel
to throw yourself from the bridge, what
would the river want of me?

Fearing darkness, we walk quickly onto
the wide path, where an energetic family,
jogging dad and first-born son, enjoy the
sounds of the night, when suddenly a
wayward bird - alights from the forest and flies
in front of us.

I cover my chest. I don't want to be
"pecked to death" by one crazed bird
like the Dallas vet who "hates white
people" and picks them off, as if
they were ducks, eleven of them.

We wheel around and head on home. There
to love and be protected. And listen
to the twilight song of the birds
in the back yard and the ceaseless
tap of the woodpecker.



C'mon get out
I say opening
the front door.

He goes, reluctantly.
On a trip down south
I was a man, then,

And entered a bar
Something cold on
tap, I said, sitting
at the bar

Strung up in the
middle of the room
were three strips
that looked like
men's ties with
flies on em

What? asked the
bartender, you ain't
never seen flypaper?

Well, I seen em now,
I said with my Yankee
accent. Don't like the
looks of em, tho.

He looked at my tall
glass of beer with a
head on it.
Better than in your beer,
he said.

Can't argue with that
I said, giving a twisted
little smile.


Who me? You mean ME?
You mean you know me?
Can you see me?
Can you see me scratching
the mosquito bite on my
right knee?

I accept. I humbly accept
your offer, O Divine One.
My history of being mental
may preclude me from buying
what I really want.

A piece for every room
in the house plus the
glove compartment of
my vehicle when it's
back from the shop.

A ladylike holster to
wear outside my jeans
fitted with a black
Glock like they wear
in Criminal Minds.

Mailman Dante will be
here soon. I'm filling
out the paperwork to
mail in. My signature's
a bit shaky since I'm
in a hurry, but, Divine
One? Thy will be done.


As my darling readers know - hello hello - I write a poem a day for Facebook. It keeps the poetry compartment of my brain in good shape.

Sometimes a couple people 'like it' on FB.

The most time it's ever taken me to write one is half an hour.

Oh, I see we're having a little chat, like The Paris Review Talks.

Did they really take place in Paris or were they just trying to, you know, impress people.

You may check it out for your own sweet self.

We DO need a photograph here.

Which dyou like better?  

Image result for cat

Image result for cat

No comments:

Post a Comment