Lighthearted At The End of the World

Ed: I’m researching one or more works on climate fiction –CliFi–that will tiptoe through a increasingly alarming future. In the process, I’m finding some previous works that, while dark, are also windows into the subject. So, to brighten your day, here are two:

A Song on the End of the World

BY CZESLAW MILOSZ

On the day the world ends|
A bee circles a clover,
A fisherman mends a glimmering net.
Happy porpoises jump in the sea,

By the rainspout young sparrows are playing
And the snake is gold-skinned as it should always be.

On the day the world ends
Women walk through the fields under their umbrellas,

A drunkard grows sleepy at the edge of a lawn,
Vegetable peddlers shout in the street
And a yellow-sailed boat comes nearer the island,

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Innocence

 

The sound of children

comes in swells

like the sea…. I love

how they fill the emptiness and silence

Location

Between the thumb and the forefinger
where I’m counting and mapping your freckles
as my fingers slide
over your curves
and etches
a map of my universe
where
my soul
my love
my passion
finds solace,

Flaw (Micro poetry)

Breaking point

“One of the greatest regrets in life is being what others would want you to be, rather than being yourself.”
― Shannon L. Alder

A thousand sweet praises
I can listen sweetly
and keep forgetting them
the next day I rise

History of love

Our love is an illusion

a mirage,

like the sun setting in the sea

the light has traveled

from the past

to reach you and me;

Passion (Micro poetry)

I blog at Megha’s World

Fatal attraction

“Mysteries of attraction could not always be explained through logic. Sometimes the fractures in two separate souls became the very hinges that held them together.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

That insatiable thirst

which rises from the depth of my soul

and devours me like a wildfire

this incessant need

to be wrapped around your soul

like an unstoppable contagion

Pause

I’m getting enraged

constantly irked by the 

inconsistencies in life

bothered by

the roadblocks

ups and downs

and inequality

small glitches 

and bumps

and those 

occasional stops 

which hinders 

forms a patina

to its  

constant glow

knocks down the 

its ebb and flow

Fruitless

And when you smile
And try to hide 
your giggles and laughter
And those tinkling bells
Which will sweeten someone soul

Half empty/Half full

I blog at Megha’s World

CHANGE

Submitted by The Dark Horse

.

Do seasons shift?

Why do you stand in a limbo
Faithfully expecting the sun to remain

You’ll burn out from the rays of its ceaseless continuity
Only to then be eroded once the downpours turn up to your shores

Does passion eventually disenchant like fashion?

Most haikus

Submitted by Ed Ehren

.

Most haikus one reads

Are nonsensical bullshit

Much like this one is

Why we hate Trump

Submitted by Ed Ehren
.

We don’t hate Trump because he’s Muslim
We don’t hate Trump because he’s black

Lost in Translation

“The quiet sense of something lost” 
― Alfred Tennyson

I’m lost in the translation 

wandering between the pages of  a book

hiding between the folds

and sitting under a neatly folded

dog-eared page

waiting to be pulled

Cleanliness of thought

Submitted by  tejaswibenjamin

.

Cleanliness, purity of mind, thought and heart,

will surely make you a sweetheart.

Meditation and yoga are the way to go,

the benefits of it you will surely know.

Clear all bad thoughts, you will reach the skies,

you have only one life, so be wise.

WHEN

Submitted by Marie Tarrant

.

I’m remembering days of yesteryear,
When fags were cheap, and so was beer.
When London streets were plagued by smog
When fires burned from coal and a log.
When steam poured out of engines of trains,
When there were no traffic jams in lanes.
When cars were new and bikes were rode,
When the coalman called and dropped his load.

OLD FASHIONED WINTER

Submitted by Marie Tarrant

.

The smoke from chimneys climbing high
Form cloud like objects in the sky
The mist lies hovering over a field
Logs for fires in gardens build
The smell of cooking through the air
With bonfire smoke, they mix and share
The sun is out but cooler now
The farmers put away the plough
Trees undressed and waiting for,

Ode to Kashmir

Submitted by Ayesha Azhar

.

Three in the morning
There’s been a raid
Twenty-one for the mourning
Seventeen coffins prepared

Wild, wild and vile
Blood, gore and bile
Broken limbs; still, still eyes
Food everywhere; it’s a feast for the flies

ANTHEM OF UNITY BY CHINA ALEXANDRIA

Submitted by CHINA ALEXANDRIA

.

JOSEPH WORE A COAT OF MANY COLOURS
JESUS WORE A CROWN FIT FOR A KING
WHEN EVIL COMES IT DOESNT RAISE A BANNER
EVIL WILL NOT HARM US HEAR US SING.

They say your in a better place

Submitted by Sasha Deppen
.
They say your in a better place
But what the hell do they know
They say your always with me
As I shake my head real slow
There is no better place for you,

Centre Stage

We are at the center stage
hounded and cheered by the million hungry eyes
ready and pumped to get
a piece of the entertainment
of their life
to get that taste of the bloodied reality
and voyeuristic truth
we have been gulping down our throats
through all this life

Grin

Grin and bear it
bear the trickling pain
the harrowing death
which slowly reeks
from every single pore
of your body
pain and suffering
is a common trend
but empathy and care
is a phenomenon, unknown.

An American Satire

Submitted by Peter M Burns
.

The elephant sitting in a sycamore tree
Lazily peeling a banana for his tea
Pauses to wonder why ants are free
To march with banners extolling
Demands to ban pesticides that are
Harmful to them and pollenating bees.

Guidelines for Confession

“Wait for that wisest of all counselores, Time.” 
― Pericles

They say confessions
can absolve you
They can make you pure.
You will be pristine
as the seraphic soul.

The creative well is all dried out

Submitted by Catherine Keller

The creative well is all dried out
Hiding the truth in plain sight
Seasons change and so do we
In this dysfunctional paradise.
Another day about to be wasted
As a fading youth
Trapped within these ink-splattered pages.

Reality ( Micro poetry)

I blog at Megha’s World

Vexes

Submitted by Catherine Keller
.

We’re always chasing, killing and craving time
There will always be bullies
Whether it be in the sandbox
Or the Senate.