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November 1st Poems

Are Over-Inflated Kings Still Deflatable ?

Once upon a time the citizens of the country of fools, with malicious outside help, chose an over-inflatable king who became a cruel fool and began to speak and act from the other end of the body of law, from the hole below the backbone. Things began to stink. Children became illegal and were locked up in cages. Scientists and generals lost their jobs, lost their heads. Facts became fiction, truth a polluted stream. Many fools who believed in inflated kings, held their nose and cheered. Those who thought the king was a plague upon the land, put on their masks, hoping the plague would go away. 

One morning the king woke from a nightmare dream. An Angel had warned him that soon he would lose his throne and die the next week.  The king believed in conspiracy theories and dreams. And so the decapitation campaign began in earnest, with a plan to extend it to the whole land of fools — those who chose not join his loyal band of royal thieves and friends. 

He called upon the wisest fool in the land and demanded to know the exact day that he would die, or another head would fall. The wisest fool exclaimed, “Your majesty, the very same angel came to me in a dream and explained the exact date that you will expire, which corresponds exactly to the day that I will die — and that applies to any other fool who pops into your mind.” 

Mike Macdonald



I Remember. Do You, Will They?


I remember getting my swim short wet in the water fountain
So Mom would not know I did not go swimming.  I wonder what you did secretly


I remember Dad bringing home a 1.5’ by 3’ by 4.5’ tv as a ‘loaner for the weekend’ from work

With only a 4-5” diagonal black and white screen.


I remember that girl in grammar school i like so very, very much

That gave me a rope burn on my neck unexpectedly


I remember sliding down an ice encrusted snow covered hill

And avoiding the barbed wire gate near the stream.


I remember learning to milk my uncle’s cows

And squirting some into waiting open farm cats mouths deftly.


I remember Dad boiling sap down in the maple grove

And then carrying it ukp to the house for Mom to boil down to a cream.


I remember  how I got to lick off the spoons used for making maple syrup candy

And not missing a single drop as I licked them off so intently.


I can remember the smell of the house when Mom was baking all day

For Thanksgiving or Christmas, like yesterday it now does seem.


I remember going to the wood shed to get my little cart full of wood

For the stove to keep us warm.  I did go outside to do it so reluctantly


I remember the ventilator in the hole in the floor in my bedroom that brought warmth
From the living room below to my bed in a steady yet ever so soft stream.


I remember I remember the sun coming up over the hills in the early dawn
As I was caring for my Uncle dying of cancer.  It rose so bright and hopefully.


I remember an electrician friend installing an eclectic baseboard heater on our sun porch
Where my Dad had his hospital bed towards the end and could be warm & dream.


I remember when I was younger and Dad enclosed the sun porch

With many a window so mom could sit or lay on the couch there comfortably.


I remember the family homestead where I spent so many an enjoyable childhood hour

Now with the roof and floor fallen in with me having to money to even fix one beam.


I remember the many ladies I have loved (this does not mean I had sex with)

But the relationship never developed well; but I pray for them, just about daily.

I remember how I refused to celebrate Mothers Day, or was it Mom’s birthday

And how much it hurt hear that I was so mean.


I remember, can you remember?  All those times we wish had turned out another way.

And how do we go forward to make it better for all, collectively and/or individually?


It is up to you and me who do remember

And have the guts to act upon our dreams.


So our children’s children can think of our efforts

And can say “I can remember …” ever so thankfully.


Charlie Knight


Day 1 poem: prompt was ‘remember’
Remembering the power of the mundane,
of makin soups,
warm rooms of soft things,
of safe connections.
Of my center
As I lay on the floor with my hand on my chest
I feel the undulating breath
And it sends me
Remembering back when my bones were coral, and my blood learned to move from all those times spent as seaweed inside mother oceans belly
Lifetimes of stillness and flowing
Remembering when I was a mountain.
all the things I saw when I was rocky stone
How I became dusty sand beneath the feet of time
Remembering back when I was ameba
when I was saltwater, the brine of life’s entire potential
I remember when my heart was a wild bird.
When all beings, rocks, rivers, bugs, animals and birds could speak the same language. The songs of the heart.
I can still hear them

Laura Torraco