Tag Archives: irony

Metallica

IMG_3962

For NaPoWriMo Day 7, the prompt is to choose a news headline as the topic for a poem. Here is the news report I chose to write about: “Researchers Discover Faraway Planet Where the Rain is Made of Iron.” I guess you might call this an ironic poem?

Metallica

Use your cook pots for umbrellas, ‘cuz it’s raining iron rain.
I don’t mind heavy metal, but as weather? It’s insane.
The drumming is excessive, and if you can’t take the pain,
you don’t want to be caught out singing in the rain.

If you plan on going wading, I’d have another think,
for the puddles that you’re ogling seem to be full of zinc.
When it snows, most of the snowflakes have crystals made of lead—
not a pleasing prospect when they’re falling on your head.

Oceans full of copper, bronze and steel and tin
may be the place you have to die for to be in.
Silver hills and valleys, rivers made of gold
are all that’s left now that our nature’s all been sold.

Does tungsten please your taste buds? Can you eat the golden calf?
With no leather, those bronze slippers aren’t as comfortable by half.
Aluminum for cooking, some folks think can’t be beat,
but what you use for cooking you cannot also eat!

Now they’ve fracked away our water and melted polar ice,
Mother Nature thinks a world of metal would be nice.
So put away your appetites, for food will be passé
once the plants and animals have all been put away.

Say thank you to our rulers. Say thank you very much
for their self-serving decisions and their Midas touch.
Some of us saw this coming but the others did not see
They were too busy getting their news from Fox TV!!!

Oh dear. I said I wasn’t going to write another political poem. Well, the prompts made me do it. Once again.

Christmas in a Modern Age

Christmas in a Modern Age

All around the town and all around the parish,
folks put up decorations wherein they laud and cherish
the Christ child and his mother and his holy birth
then put up lights and tinsel to show the joy and mirth
with which they remember all he represents,
and then they go a-caroling, these ladies and these gents,
overlooking other pilgrims in their present.
Dealing with such immigrants in real time is not pleasant.
They’d slam the door and relegate them to their horrid fate,
for generosity and charity is not the mode of late.
Religion is much easier when practiced from afar,
so those in need of shelter will not find our doors ajar.

 

The prompts today are joy, tinsel and cherish.

Comeuppance

photo by Mari Lezhava on Unsplash, Used with permission

Comeuppance

His behavior was egregious, his actions purely shocking.
With combat boots, upon each leg he wore a nylon stocking.
Never appeared in public totally alone
lest he meet his comeuppance and be asked to atone
for all the calumnies he’d voiced upon the telephone.

Yes, a shocking gossip—slanderous at best.
A million little rumors started at his behest.
Diamonds on his fingers and slander on his tongue,
he had become a legend while he was very young.
How Cher was such a harridan and how Sonny was hung!

Needless to say, he did well there in the Hollywood scene,
his appearance so eccentric, his behavior so obscene.
Until that certain story spread both far and wide
concerning certain juicy bits where he had surely lied
that led to an untimely death—this time from suicide.

He tried his usual posturings, excuses and false proof,
but this time all his public chose to remain aloof.
They pointed at his nylons. They snickered at his boots,
speculated that his rings were diamond substitutes.
He and Donald Trump, they’d heard, were rather in cahoots.

Dropped now from the A list, he barely made the C.
Got tables near the kitchen, his meals no longer free.
His rise to fame so rapid, his fall was just as fast.
He became a pariah, a definite outcast.
Of the victims of his venom, he was the very last.

Prompts for the day are comeuppance, public, alone, egregious and legend.

 

 

War Games

photo with permission by Hasan Almasi on Unsplash

War Games

I’m not an island hopper, even in time of war.
Didn’t your mother tell you that’s what a basement’s for?
Wherever you may wander, wherever you may roam,
the best place to dodge missiles is right there in your home.

So reinforce your bunkers, store up delicious rations
so you can withstand war games of the leaders of our nations.
Naughty little spoiled boys who cannot learn to share
will not heed entreaties of those of us who care.

Even our democracy is ruled by a throne.
He gnaws away at joints of beef and throws us all a bone.
With no other agenda than playing at his game,
he does not know the difference between infamy and fame.

So build up your defenses. Reinforce your door,
for he and his rich cronies would profit from a war.
And all the brave young soldiers sweating in the sun?
He’ll take away their benefits after they are done.

Once the war is over, they’ll rebuild the world again
with their construction companies while they sit drinking gin.
Counting profits from the opportunities they’ve found,
they’ll enjoy their hillside mansions as we hunker underground.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/05/29/rdp-wednesday-island/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/05/29/fowc-with-fandango-war/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/05/29/your-daily-word-prompt-wherever-may-29-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/05/29/delicious/

Evolution

 

Click on first photo to enlarge photos and see as series.

Evolution

If we took every advertisement
that we saw under advisement,
envisioning ourselves in cars
filled with TVs and guitars,
food choppers and Barbie dolls—
everything we saw in malls—
we might buy it all and after,
fill every house to every rafter.

Blenders, stereos and blouses
would pile up in our many houses.
Consumerism would be the key
to  how happy we would be.
Lethargic children would sit about
staring at phones in hands, not out
into the world their windows face.
Imagination would replace
a reality no one could cotton.
Our old world would be so rotten—
all it was so ill-begotten
that it had to be forgotten.

Our present world now so diluted
(nature being so polluted)
that the animals our kids would see
would not be out and roaming free
but in some zoo with air protected
and no fluorocarbons detected.
All these things that we could buy
would be what caused our world to die.
Plastic world and plastic lives
would seal us into plastic hives
where we could buzz around in cells
creating our own private hells.

How hard would it really be
to imagine this reality?
How close are we to it already—
Our brains scrambled into spaghetti
by barrages of consumerism?
Could we even heal the schism
that our plastic world has wrought?
Would we give up all we’ve got
for the greener simpler earth
of our great-grandfather’s birth?

Man will speed on toward his doom
in his air-conditioned room
that screens the poisons out while he
sits rapt in front of his tv.
His children, who can no longer stand,
sit, each with eyes glued to his hand.
Only robots will go out
to shop for us and walk about
in air that’s suited only for
machines to venture out the door.

They’ll greet each other in the street,
smiling at each bot they meet.
Perhaps the plastic revolution
was the next step in evolution.
They’ve locked us all within their lairs.

The world they sought is finally theirs
as every human sits and stares
at the unreal world he shares
with every other other fleshly being
that gave up doing for simply seeing.

The prompt words today were key, lethargic, advertisement and envision.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/18/rdp-monday-key/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/02/18/fowc-with-fandango-lethargic/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/18/your-daily-word-prompt-advertisement-february-18-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/02/18/envision/

Cowboy Identity Revealed––and with A Twist!!!

Earlier this week, I published a poem about cowboys and illustrated it with a photo of three cowboys that I took on the street during the 100th anniversary parade of the little town I grew up in in South Dakota.  I had no idea who they were, but today I received this communication on my Facebook page that not only identified two of the handsome young cowboys, but which also informed me of an unusual twist of fate concerning the identity of one of the cowboys.  Here is that Facebook conversation with Wayne Esmay, who still lives in (or near) my hometown of Murdo, South Dakota:

Judy Dykstra-Brown Does anyone know who these Jones Co. cowboys are?
Wayne Esmay On Left: Craig McKenzie
On Right: Chauncey Labrier
Center: ?
Judy Dykstra-Brown Thanks, Wayne. Is Craig related to Mackie McKenzie or Evelyn McKenzie? Trying to think of any other McKenzies I knew…

Judy Dykstra-Brown And are you Vickie’s brother?

Wayne Esmay Yes, I am Vicki’s oldest brother. My dad’s name was also Wayne.
Craig McKenzie is the son of Chester, and who is the son of Bud McKenzie. Bud was Macky McKenzies brother.
Chauncey Labrier is the son of Larry Labrier, who now is the owner & resident of your dad’s ranch and home place.
Small world, Isn’t it!

Judy Dykstra-Brown How ironic. Thanks so much, Wayne. I’m going to copy your comment into my blog. Your sister Vicki visited me in Australia and I believe I was the Sunday school teacher of your youngest sister (Wanda?) who was an adorable little girl. I also remember your mother, Margie, well. We had some connection when I was a little girl. Did she stay with the Brosts when she went to high school? Trying to jog my memory. I remember she was an older girl that I admired.

Note from Judy:  My father’s ranch has been resold several times since its first sale in the late 1960’s and I had no idea who the present owner was.  It is so ironic that the one photo I took of people on the street after the parade should be the son of the present owner.

 

Seeing Red at 2 A.M.!!!!!!

The only two prompts already published when I was awakened AT TWO IN THE MORNING!!!!! by some asshole driving back and forth and back and forth five feet from my open bedroom window on a motorcycle with no muffler and obviously some sort of amplifier on his tailpipe that made it sound like a series of cherry bombs going off at 1/10th of a second intervals!!!!!! were “hindsight” and “tricky.” Feels like I’ll never get to sleep again, so might as well write.  Here goes:

Futile Reflection

It is a tricky irony that memory is slow
in letting loose of the mistakes that we’d love to let go
when wisdom gained by hindsight’s too far after the fact
to alter the reality of a foolish act.

 

https://fivedotoh.com/2019/02/03/fowc-with-fandango-hindsight/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/03/your-daily-word-prompt-tricky-february-3-2019/

Stasis

 

jdbphoto

Stasis

At the zenith of her powers, the glamorous Ms. Z
knew well the art of camouflage. No one could really see
the heretic that lived inside the one in the first pew.
Not even her most loyal friends knew she was a Jew.

Times call for extreme measures, whatever might protect
and preserve us from dark powers, who if they detect
any threatening differences might decide to strike.
One yesterday thought “charming,” today just labeled “kike!”

What small differences between us do we all obscure?
What hidden denials must we all endure?
Convention is a schoolmarm with a ruler in her hand
ready to dish out punishment for any action banned.

One drop of blood not Aryan or thought that’s not mainstream,
any errant choice of style, any avant dream
might be grounds for action, for all good people know
the harm that comes from those who might upset the status-quo.

 

 

 

*kike is derived from the Hebrew word for circle, which is the mark many jews made on their immigration papers coming into America instead of an X for their signature.  Like many other racial slurs, it came from immigration officers who used it a s short-hand for a population group entering the country.

 

The prompt words today are camouflage, heretic, glamorous and zenith.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/01/31/rdp-thursday-camouflage/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/01/31/fowc-with-fandango-heretic/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/01/31/your-daily-word-prompt-glamorous-january-31-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/01/31/zenith/

Dust to Rain

Click on any photo to enlarge all.

Dust to Rain

The world, my dear, is dust to rain
over and over and again.
It is as true as it is sad
that relief cannot be had
unless some travail happens first.
How can we quench unless we thirst?

Those times you go without a trace
of raindrops on your upturned face
give way to petrichor—they must
as finally rain comes down to dust.
Bountiful years follow the drought.
It is the way the world’s planned out.

Grandparents tell their younger kin
that drought is the result of sin
or hurricanes our penance for
those misdeeds the gods abhor.
But this is all mistaken lore
dispelled by whiffs of petrichor.

The prompt words for today were trace, kin, bountiful and petrichor ( the pleasant, distinctive smell frequently accompanying the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather in certain regions.)

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/11/08/rdp-thursday-petrichor/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/11/08/fowc-with-fandango-trace/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/11/08/kin/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/daily-addictions-2018-week-44/bountiful

Gradual Justice

img_2887-1

Gradual Justice

Life metes out a gradual justice that we may not  see.
Not choreographed for one lifetime, not designed for you or me,
but rather, for the planet or the universe.
There’s no way to avoid it, circumvent it or rehearse.
We’re a part of something larger even as we make mistakes
as nature covers over the snafus mankind makes.
Great men may be jaunty, swelled up with their great plan,
but nature has more problems than looking after man.
She has the heart of all within, seeing a scope broader
than the needs of man or any other great marauder.
There is just so much for any of us. When we grab for more,
we can be pretty sure we may be headed out the door.
What species will replace us, or how will we evolve
if we don’t act quickly our problems to resolve?
Even all technology is part of nature’s plan.
Perhaps it’s written that robots will take the place of man.
Micro chips for healing and mechanical hearts
are only the beginning. They are only the starts.
Species that overgraze domains bring about their endings.
So it may be with us with all our diggings and our vendings.
Machines poisoning our air and putting poisons on our shelves
May only be the means of making more room for themselves! 

 

The prompts today are justice, heart, jaunty and gradual. Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/09/28/friday-rdp-justice/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/28/fowc-with-fandango-heart/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/28/jaunty/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/09/23/daily-addictions-2018-week-38/gradual