Compunction

jubilation
irritation
hesitation
manipulation
adulation
rejection
speculation
masturbation;
her life is
a mutation,
an emergency
situation

laurie k.

Near Miss

“Clear!”
The paddles slapped against his chest.
The smell of burning hair filled
the small antiseptic room.
“Clear!”
Paddles slapped his chest again.
“We’re losing him!”
“Clear!”

The heartbeat returned,
eratic at first, then settled
into a normal pattern.
Sixteen angioplasties exact,
nine by-passes a success,
but this angio a near-miss.

His cardiac nurse explained
red rings on his chest,
explained how close he came
to leaving.

When the nurse left, he told me
he saw the whole experience
from above his body.
In a cold sweat, I asked him
to tell me about it.

Clearing Amid a Copse

Occluded thoughts damn my brain
sequestering perplexing questions.
Stymied, in my gangrene garden.

Diverted attention flows pell-mell
gathering speed, not rosebuds
rushing toward scary conclusions.

Something IS rotten in the state of
underemployment. Subverted to a
place of copious inactivity, I wait.

My messages are mixed.
My metaphor beyond growls
I howl. Destroyed? Taxed
with faint reason, to exhaustion.

Walking Dictionary

My mother never treated anything like an emergency. Patient. When my brother got off the school bus to fight another boy, my mom treated him at home with stabilization and an ice pack. “He has fractured his clavicle,” she said. Who around us would say that? They’d say something more along the lines of, “He’s done broke his collar bone.” Not as a stereotype but as a fact of diction. But she said everything like that, explaining that I was getting a urinary infection because I was touching my labia in the bath. I was only six but somehow I knew not to use that word at school. No one wanted to hear about your UTI even in grade school. She had wanted to be a librarian. She could type faster than anyone I knew. Never went anywhere without a book. Because of her, when I practice yoga I try to learn the Indian words for the moves: Tadasana, Uttanasana, Savasana.

Day 22: Emergency

Fire!

Fires blaze out of control,
thick billowing midnight clouds plume
above burnt orange flames
dance around evergreen trees
reduced to ashes...

Elders learn by fall
that summer’s crises soon end.
Peace will come with calm.

Urgently Needed

Let them think I have no charity if they wish.
I no longer send donations to solicitations.
I got annoyed then enraged with the use of my
money creating landfill, blister packaging,
endless requests for more and more funds.
Brilliant copper penny. Heads you lose.

I prefer to spend energy taking cases:
child next door, co-worker in need, someone
without anywhere to go on the high holy days.
Emergencies emerge organically. I feed them
individually, with appropriate mindful attention.
Opaque transactions. Tales from the front.

Legal Limit

Their world changed
by man's need
for sport,
gas emitting engines
and whirling blades,
bottles and cans
tossed when used.

Their hook healed mouths
when thrown back
are unable to shout:
911.

Their dead eyes
glaze a milky film
as their bodies float
to litter the shore.

For Vada Vasquez

A fifteen year old girl
has a stray bullet in her brain.

She was walking home from school.
She is a good girl, with good grades.

Her family prays, cries, lights candles
so she will open her eyes.

Until then, they will not have
Thanksgiving.

They live a few doors down from where
Amadou Diallo was shot at 41 times by police.

The gang members are in jail, the intended target
is sorry, and guns are still changing hands.

What else will it take before we declare
a state of emergency.

HEY BULLDOG

Your canines and bicuspids,
were finely honed on bones,
your leather spiked dog collar
would intimidate alone.
The chain they have you tethered to,
could surely choke a rhino,
the meaner your demeanor
nerves me up as far as I know.
I'm frozen in my footsteps,
you broke your metal noose,
you're charging towards me where I stand
no doubt you've gotten loose.
I start to shake uncontrolled,
I do a nervous dance,
your owner shouts a "halt" command,
but too late, I've soiled my pants.

Emergence
(a Fib)


She
calls
for help.
Cries wolf once
more, knows they will come
but tomorrow she will stay, still
block the sirens and lie, silent
triage her own heart
even while
the real
w o l f
waits.

Emergency Verse

‘I need paper!’
she would tell her Mom,
at an age when crayons would still have been entirely appropriate.
‘Need,’ not ‘want,’ a national emergency every time,
the thoughts spilling to the page so fast she could hardly catch them, make them stay between the lines, pencil and pigtails flying.
Many reams and dreams later, that girl still needs paper
as sustaining as food, water, air. Notebooks, diaries, journals, legal form margins, restaurant napkins, no white space is safe. No high is higher than feeling phrase
tumble to page, assemble itself as if strung along by invisible filament.
She’ll tell you that if you ask her, describe the feeling in
vivid detail, flinging words like fire
But
wait,
I need a pen.

My day began in solitary quiet
Until the cry, “Daisy is sick.”
“Just an upset stomach,” I thought.
Until I saw her little body go limp.
Frantic calls to veterinarians
Until we raced to the hospital.
I held her ever so tightly in my arms
Until we finally arrived.
Again and again I thought she was gone
Until they gently plucked her from my arms.
Reluctantly I released her sweetness
Until they could examine and diagnose.
Long, long day waiting for the phone
Until at last it blessedly rang.
She is responding. She can come home
Until the congestive heart failure claims her.
Now we have her back again to love
Until……

De,
You have spoken for ALL of us! :)

Now we just need a code that works! UGH!

Not Even a 'Thanks For Entering' Card.

I misread the flyer and I think I got it wrong --
the competition ends tomorrow: I am truly screwed!
my printer wouldn't take the ink that I got for a song
I printed out five hundred pages – every one was nude!
I copied files to USB and opened up the phone
book to find a printing shop that handled novel things
I dialled up several companies but nobody was home
until I found one miles away and wished that I had wings.
A fiver for the taxi fare and tenpence every page
(why did they ask for double spaced? I could have saved a mint)
the printer man was very pleased to have me pay his wage
I boxed it up and went to the post office in a sprint.
Twenty quid to guarantee delivery A.M.
I shelled out and never heard a thing from them again.

Walt, you gave me a good laugh this morning!
--------------------------------------------
HOW WE ENVISION EMERGENCIES IN THE 21ST CENTURY

Our conversation got lost in space.
One moment, you chirped about
your next move, then
silence.
The unexpected soundlessness made me sit up,
wait for more: a breath, a gasp, a scream.
No noise broke through. My phone lay
innocent in my hand, offered nothing.
Half an hour passed. Still no connection.
Where did you go?
Only your voice mail greeted my
repeated attempts to find you again.
Images came to mind: you
on your phone in the car
and then a crash.
You
on your phone as you walked
in Sabino Canyon
and then a mountain lion.
You
on your phone in your neighborhood
and then a mugging.
A heart attack.
A stroke.
Should I call 911, send
someone to your house
in that faraway city?
What if your city
was under attack?

Just as I escalated the danger
in my head, finally, an email:
Phone broke. Sorry. More later.

Had a windstorm last night so bad that it took the head off the plastic deer! That being said I decided to give this poem a light hearted approach, although with a different subject than the wind I just couldn't wrap my mind around that this morning for some reason-- headless plastic Bambis get to me I guess...

~The Egg~

Today I dropped an egg on the floor

hearing a laugh I saw you at the door

I looked down at the mess in real disgust

But you wondered what was all the fuss

It's easy to fix, sugar, you said

not exactly something to dread

With a grin you went and got out the mop

and proceeded to clean up the messy glop

Then you pulled me to you, holding me close

asking me who I loved the most

With a smile I said you don't need to beg

I love the one who cleaned up the egg

---

Bad News

At once awakened
By the phone's shrill insistence
Her heart grips with fear.

THE WAKE
(Priam)

Laid my boy out on the living room carpet,
bloodstain and cigarette burn, just like he was sleeping
at funny angles. Said they shot him sixteen times
before they chained up his moaning body to the back of the car
dragged him halfway to Anacostia. His crowd called 911.
Ambulance never came. Breathed his last
ground up in broken glass on the pavement out front.

What am I gonna tell his mama, I shouted, voice cracking.
What she gonna say. They didn't say nothing,
just looked at their shuffling feet, hulking hallway shadows
in their gang colors with their matching tattoos.
Told them all get out and fight your war in someone else's house.

This one seen too much of it. My walls are only so thick.

Now I got him covered in a sheet so when she comes home
from the night shift, I can tell her slow.
But meantime it's just me and my heavy soul,
lake-bottom thoughts, dark and muddy and wet like seaweed:
who's gonna take care of his baby, who's gonna
help work part-time to pay the rent, gonna drive to the store
to pick up my medicine. His mama got two jobs already.
And now that no-good crowd done got him killed,
and only funeral we could afford is to chase out the rats,
dig up a quiet corner in the cellar.

I smoke my way through ten whole cigarettes, just waiting,
whether for Lazarus to rise or for the joints to go crooked,
I don't know. Sirens caterwauling down the street. I don't
know what to do.

“ Fun and Fair Weather”

Tarp cloth covered with colorful circles
Arms, legs, entangled, whose move

Rushing blood, unaligned aching joints, who
Cares , would you please take off your shoe?

Jubilance fading, all eyebrows meet
Hurling, twirling, debris in the street

Was there a warning, sirens blare
Bodies unwrap, through the window stare

Only one second, scramble, take cover
Hysterics fade, transformed panic hovers.

Twister!

Ninacarole
11/22/09

I have a lot of catching up to do. I've been away for a week and a half to attend my Dad's funeral. It was a beautiful sunny day service with full military honors. Fitting for a WWII Veteran. He was the man who gave me my love of words.

Now for today's prompt:

The Fall

Had the proper authorities been called
he may have survived the fall.
But this town was ignorant of proper safety.
Why else would its leading citizen,
in his weakened condition,
tempt fate upon the dizzying heights?
And what good were men and mules-
even if they were royal?

I have been writing to everydays prompt but haven't posted the last few. They were just too terrible. Worse than this even

Shelved for Now

Emergency measures were needed today
To save a likely doomed marriage
The love I feel for you is never going to stop
Yet our morning tea will need to

My mind needs the break from the endless fight
That ensues as I cover my feelings
I am not good I guess at hiding how I feel
The love I feel for you shines thru

You are my muse and my poetic inspiration
I feel now the words will cease to flow
The day will dawn as dull and slow
I will put my mind on the same shelf as the teapot

Lone Star Blues

Living in Texas is sucking
the life out of me. I’m wearing
shorts in November – the melting
heat seldom takes a nap. Regressive talk
is as prevalent as drivers refusing
to use signal blinkers, coming
within a millimeter of killing
me several times a week. Escaping
to hippie-land Austin is a twisted
dream because work keeps
me trapped in Big D, which frowns
upon uniqueness. To stay alive, I wallow
in poetry and art and watch
TV heroes with powers I envy, wishing
I could fly or rejuvenate after falling
through too many days filled
with fake smiles and mundane chatter.
If the next decade finds
me still in the land of bluebonnets, emergency
resuscitation will surely be required.

THIS IS NOT A TEST

channel 4 today announced
the end of the world
they said it would all begin
to end about noon tomorrow
eastern standard time

they said proceed with caution
avoid stampeding
towards emergency exits
demonstrate civility
don’t push or shove

Channel 4 announced the world’s end
Will come in one big bang
As did the beginning

They said it would be painless
Meteors will crash unheard
Burning flames unseen

Embrace your loved ones
Keep them close at hand and heart
Let last breath be about forgiving

This is an emergency
This is not a test
The end of the world is coming
Channel 4 announced it all today

#

We really did spend Friday night in the ER with my 3 year old, who broke his left arm from a fall at preschool. This is a month after his right arm healed from a fall at home. It's been hard to watch.


Emergency

There is nothing fair
About two broken arms in
Three months of preschool.

Emerge

Emergency
Emergence
They both seem quite the same
Emerge from the emergency
You just might find it’s spelled:
O
P
P
O
R
T
U
N
I
T
Y

Emergency Call

“Help!” I heard the anxious call
issue forth inside a wall.
“If you would, please pass a ball
of paper underneath my stall!”

EMERGENCY

Vehicles wail,
lights flash,
EMT’s dash
to another crisis.

Congress spends
money we don’t possess;
adds to mounting stress
with no remedy.

Storm clouds gather
on the world scene
with no solutions to bring
any lasting peace.

When all the while
the real emergency lies within
as we dance on the rim
of hell.

Roadside Shrine

Sitting in traffic
on Route 78
gives me time to study
the scenery of autumn.
The colors are intriguing,
but my eye travels
to a different focal point:
a display of old flowers
and a weather-beaten teddy bear,
just before the overpass.
They tell a story
of another day
in (perhaps) another season
when emergency responders
couldn’t work miracles.

"Snow Fire"

The world goes white.
Flakes catch mouth
freeze lips, cheeks
ears on fire.
It's close I know
the cottage the
light the window
the warmth. But...
how long has it
been white?
Ears subside but
fire in my gloves.
I can see my hand
it swats the snow
clearing a path
for the eyes into
white cheeks hard
feet stiff. Am I
yawning? How would
it feel to lie down in
the soft carpet I guess
firey then numb then
asleep in a bed of white.

Fire fighting.

I don't have real emergencies
just times things don't go well.
Will therel come a moment when I can't save the day?
Only time will tell.

Typical - the one time it goes up first try is the one I have a mistake in a line!

Careless Thought

Shattered dreams like glass
A panicked shaking arm
Wake Up!
Wake Up!
She shouted
In to sleeps murky haze

Shrill alarm in darkness
Flipped on my sleeping brain
Dark smoke
The coughing baby in our arms
I drove them out in to the night
And disappeared in to the smoke

Flames lapped in the kitchen
Licking curling paint chips from the wall
Little baby bottle
Left to boil in the pot
Had become an ugly dragon
Of the fire breathing kind

The box of baking soda
I had left their on a whim
Stood out like a sword their
In the flicker of that light
Never thought we’d need it
But I’d left it just the same

And as those flames leapt higher
They seduced the cabinets
Belched out destructive fury
In their longing to consume
Given opportunity
It’s true they would take all

But baking soda flew that night
On to those terrible flames
They sputtered
Choked
Then died away
With all their fury tamed

It’s true it did make quite a mess
The worse I’d ever made
With powder laying everywhere
Upon the kitchen battleground
And that melted baby bottle
Still left within that pot
That had served us
Then betrayed us
Just like a careless thought

EMERGENCIES

I need to go
to the lav!!
It's an emergency!!
Always is. I sigh
and let her go.

Tomorrow
it will be another student,
another place – the nurse,
office, guidance.
All of them

emergencies. Teenage
lives are fast forward,
action movie
video
game speed

twenty-four seven
emergencies.
They can’t live
for forty-five minutes
without some drama.

Drama queens, drama kings
have to text,
have to pee, but the real
emergency is
they have to learn.

Crash Site

Blue light flashing
Ambulance dashing
Speed limits breaking
Short cuts taking
Siren blaring
Ear drums tearing
Crash site nearing
Worse case fearing
Thank the Lord there’s
No one dying

Phone Call in the Night

She used to call at 2A.M.,
closing time at a bar
two hundred miles away.

She cried into his ear,
sometimes shrieked her demand
that he jump into the car
and drive to her rescue.

Time and again he sighed
with patience I never knew,
talked her down
off her cliff of fumes.

Told her in a voice so sweet
I fell in love again
that he’d talk with her
tomorrow.

Her routine emergencies
could not become ours
yet our hearts floundered
in our chests each time
the phone rang at 2 A.M.

Sorry - second but last line should read "Medics sighing". More editing without looking properly

(fiction)


Hamster Emergency

We were supposed to be ready
to leave at ten till ten.
But the dozen of us were busy
like the little red hen.

Drawers pulled out.
Clothes strewn from the hamper.
Looking behind and under things
for Newton the hamster.

In his nocturnal wanderings
Newton had fled,
and his owner Emmy
was going out of her head.

It was a hamster emergency.
Nothing else could be done.
How could we get going
with a hamster on the run?

We left anyway
much to Emmy’s distress.
People were waiting for us
to come in clown dress.

But Adam had an idea and
put food on a paper towel,
then on top of an empty can
where Newton would fall.

When we came back
Emmy smiled with glee.
The hamster trap worked.
No more emergency.

Word G.E.R.D. *

Anastrophe **
can be a catastrophe.
Want to know why?

Why know to want
.catastrophe a be can
Anastrophe

____________________________

* Gross Etymologic Reverse Disorder
**The reversal of the normal order of words

Emergency Downtown

There is an emergency downtown
But, everyone’s too busy to stop and look around
People living in the street
ignored by all, even though they’re right at our feet

They don’t exist for most of us
we look right through them
certainly, not someone we’d trust
why should we, when they are so much easier to condemn

Though, by the grace of god,
they could be you or I
It’s just so odd
they when they ask for help, we don’t even try. . .

©Ralph J. Fitcher, November 22, 2009, Emergency Poem.

Wow, I am finally caught up. I have at least one poem for every prompt, and two for the Tuesdays. I am most proud of the poem I wrote for the prompt on the 19th.

Ralph.

Undercurrent

I am tired
of emergency.
Probably that’s a secret
we are not supposed to say:
but I am weary
of life in triage,
legs and arms sore
from the long paddle,
fighting currents
of family drama
and trauma.

Let’s rest, you and I,
drift in the eddies,
trail our tired fingers
in gentle water.
I’m done worrying
if there will be rapids
around the bend,
if our raft will snag
and burst, leaving us
to drown.

If it does, so be it.
We know how
to swim.

Amanda Fall, "trail our tired fingers in gentle water..." I LOVE this, in both language and imagery. Beautiful.

In line, or "in sync" with Salvatore Buttaci, and Sally Jadlow in regards to "the BIG EMERGENCY" caused by "the dance around the rim of hell", as announced on Channel 4---where ever that is ?? "REPENT---for the GREAT and DREADFUL Day of the Lord is at hand"! "Great" for those who are prepared and "in sync" with Him; "Dreadful" for those who are still dancing around "the rim". RMA
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Emergency © Rich Atwater Nov. 22, 2009

A sudden, unexpected occurrence has just arisen!
We have a set of circumstances demanding immediate ACTION!
Lucifer, “Son of the Morning”, has just rebelled, along with many a cousin!
Out of sudden necessity "We" must now open “the emergency hatch” of heaven.

Creation time upon “Us”; let “Us” go down and form an earth,
Place plants, and animals, then “the image of our likeness” as a man and woman too,
To multiply, replenish, expand through experience, far beyond the time of birth,
But sin requires “a Flood”, open up “the emergency hatch” for squalid variance, what they do!

Rejoice, Immanuel is born to bring salvation and redemption to the world,
To trod the path, and show the way of how to do it right,
And set the course, fulfill the need through grace and sacrifice unfurled,
But wait! EMERGENCY! The crucifixion has brought upon “the night”.

We grope in darkness, seeking TRUTH, and then comes REVELATION--
To open up “the path” again, towards HAPPINESS: “Eternal Life”.
But first must come again-- EMERGENCY-- in our station:
“The Second Coming of the Lord”, to end all strife!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In line, or "in sync" with Salvatore Buttaci, and Sally Jadlow in regards to "the BIG EMERGENCY" caused by "the dance around the rim of hell", as announced on Channel 4---where ever that is ?? "REPENT---for the GREAT and DREADFUL Day of the Lord is at hand"! "Great" for those who are prepared and "in sync" with Him; "Dreadful" for those who are still dancing around "the rim". RMA
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Emergency © Rich Atwater Nov. 22, 2009

A sudden, unexpected occurrence has just arisen!
We have a set of circumstances demanding immediate ACTION!
Lucifer, “Son of the Morning”, has just rebelled, along with many a cousin!
Out of sudden necessity "We" must now open “the emergency hatch” of heaven.

Creation time upon “Us”; let “Us” go down and form an earth,
Place plants, and animals, then “the image of our likeness” as a man and woman too,
To multiply, replenish, expand through experience, far beyond the time of birth,
But sin requires “a Flood”, open up “the emergency hatch” for squalid variance, what they do!

Rejoice, Immanuel is born to bring salvation and redemption to the world,
To trod the path, and show the way of how to do it right,
And set the course, fulfill the need through grace and sacrifice unfurled,
But wait! EMERGENCY! The crucifixion has brought upon “the night”.

We grope in darkness, seeking TRUTH, and then comes REVELATION--
To open up “the path” again, towards HAPPINESS: “Eternal Life”.
But first must come again-- EMERGENCY-- in our station:
“The Second Coming of the Lord”, to end all strife!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Why isn’t the burning earth more of a priority?
The sick smolder has even set rock stars’ guitars crying
and Hollywood stars turning their faces to urgency.
In great cities the young hearts impassioned and demanding
a dramatic denouement—instead of the finale—

make and break alliances, their wartime panic seething.
But someone’s child whines for cherries, and someone’s running late.
Something always needs cleaning, and the phone’s always ringing.
Without time to feel hopeless, someone finds the time to pray.
The First World’s pursuing paradigm shift, but the workday

is the workday, and even the stars are stuck on the set.
The script sucks, the director’s an ass—and then the divorce.
Pasta boils as guests arrive, and then the baby vomits.
Scarcity looms, consumption slips, but there’s a shot at more
so your cog-teeth grind down. Then the knife slips, and you’re bleeding.

The emergency’s the third thing, and off beyond the fourth
are some relatively slow fires burning here on earth.


DA

Chrysalis

Cocoon cracks, slowly at first,
then a whole new world burst in
demands to be noticed, experienced
ready or not, your new life begins

De, thank you! You just brightened my evening.

Car 54

Every time I hear the ambulance, I flush
With fear? When can I trust you to your own
senses? I hear sirens and I turn to follow their path, listening
intensely, and sigh with relief that you must surely be in the other
direction. I trust you, believe me, but I still grasp that
love that wants to protect you. Everybody has to go some
day, I just wish you more time.

Where are you?

Driving Home

She was driving down a country road,
the rain mixing with snow
as the dusk faded into the night.
The radio was softly playing Christmas music
and she was humming along.
She had a soft smile upon her face
as she was thinking of the days to come.
Thinking of family, scrabble games and…

The deer came out of nowhere -
slamming into the driver’s side of the car.

She had no time to react,
as the glass shattered, the feeling
of thousands of icicles imbedding into her face,
whether from the glass or the sleet she did not know.
She screamed as she lost control of the car,
spinning in slow motion and slamming into a tree.
. . .
She awoke to flashing lights,
disembodied voices and
the soft strains of Christmas music.
She smiled and slowly drifted away.

Emergency Measures

Hanging up the phone
I go into action.

The futon in the spare bedroom
is opened and freshly sheeted.
Sprigs of calming lavender
newly clipped from the front walkway.
Innocuous magazines spread
invitingly on the bedside table.
Teapot and cozy set out
water heating on the stove.
My best tray spread with a
freshly laundered embroidered cloth.
Scones warming in the oven
cinnamon-laced butter melting gently.
Lights are dimmed
classical music murmurs its comfort.

Sometimes nothing else will do
but an emergency meeting of
the Girlfriend to the Rescue Society.

BEFORE BULL RUN

[I have gone as far as I could, without exposing myself
to arrest in opposing the war. - Elihu Burritt, May 26, 1861]

Six weeks into Civil War, and your dearest friends
this side of the ocean are drifting
into dangerous waters; so many advocates of Peace

swept away in the war-storm. They claim
the Northern Army is just a sheriff’s posse,
to put down a common riot.

What nonsense. Five hundred thousand men
in uniform on either side.
What can you call it except War?

Elihu, how many years you’ve pressed
your schemes: boycott of the fruits
of slave labor, Compensated Emancipation.

Even now you keep preaching your plans
of adjustment; partial separation
South from North. See how the Southern States

one by one pull away from the Union.
What could hold it together now? Why must it
be hacked so bloodily apart?

Ambulance

Ambulance
red light circles
siren blares, signals
other vehicles to let
it pass. Who is being
transported to the
hospital? Will she
be okay? I say a
silent prayer as the
ambulance passes,
remember that one
time it was me inside.

November Poetry Challenge Day 22 EMERGENCY

What is an emergency

My secretary tells me Dr. X has a patient
With visual loss for three weeks, would I please
See her as an emergency? Ten years ago,
My mother called at 2 am, your father has fallen
On the way to the bathroom, he says “don’t
Call the EMTs,” I say, call them now, I’ll meet you
At the ER. Dr. Y can’t tell what’s the matter—your dad
Is not breathing well, could it be a pulmonary emboli
Or could it be his dissecting aortic aneurysm
Extending? My dad was seizing when I saw him, we were
Ushered out, to wait and wait and wait—there was
Not a good outcome.
I reply to my secretary, tell Dr. to send the patient
Now.

I will die today.
That's an emergency, surely.
But what can I do?
My heart leaps in my chest.
No one knows how happy I am.

FIRST SNOW

It must have looked like fairy pictures
on the windowpane, vanilla
crystal sugar-sweet

when Daddy left the door ajar
to fetch firewood

and she toddled out to find him.
Skiff-snow squinchy under slippers,
snowflakes soft and tickly

on her skin, everything plush-white
fluffy as cotton batting
that scatters to the touch

But so cold in her sleepsuit.
How far did she go

before she wondered which way
was home, lamplit windows bleared
by distance in the dark?

How soon were her small steps
covered up with snow?

Kumari de Silva - Nice job, I like how you captured those emotions.
Patricia A. Hawkenson - Great caputure of fishing from it's perspective.
Walt - :-)
De Jackson - Dark and intriguing followed with happy and passionate.
Wanda Gray - Poignant
Racheal Green - Sad but funny, I think we all relate in different ways
LM T.Richardson - Nice. Found your disclaimer beautifully poetic to.
Joseph Harker - Incredibly powerful, vivid imagery. I sincerely hope that isn't something that you have had to live through personally.
Shelley - I thought that was very good.
Salvatore - You capture media exaggeration and people's fears so well.
RJ - "Emergency Call" ROFL! followed by a very poignant piece.
Melanie Kerr - Great job capturing urgency in quick isolated thoughts.
Connie L. Peters - I remember those emergencies from childhood.
Ralph J. Fitcher - They could be you or I, it's true.
Amanda Fall - Beautiful Poem. I've often felt that way.
Daniel Ari - Nice offering

WHERE CREDIT IS DUE…

Emergency!
Emergency!
9-1-1
Here comes Smokey Stover!
See the fire trucks run.

Call the police
and light 'em up.
Bad boys flee.
Look out for the coppers -
tough as they need be.

Agitation.
Fibrillation.
It's Code Blue.
PARA-Ms/EMTs,
on their way to you.

Up there! You See?
Ready to jump.
On the brink.
Send the Mental Health team;
cause a second think.

Need a hand here!
Sorrow's lifting.
Book 'em! Stat!
Hose 'er down! Go get 'em!
Yes, we can do that.

What can I do?
Oh, please, help me!
Running red.
Public Safety covers.
NOT 'NOUGH PRAISE E'ER SAID.

W

"Wren's Song"

A woman stumbles off the path
into briar and mud, a loose hip
and unsteady feet sent flying,
landing hard, while overhead
a Carolina wren just flying
through on the way from here
to there—rising above all
human emergency, famine,
bus bomb, tsunami, a woman’s
fall on a Sunday afternoon--
sings out, joyous and sure.

Our Recent Emergencies


Recently our happiness found itself
sandwiched between two tragedies:
top slice, a miscarried, yearned for, child,
bottom slice, a beloved, aging aunt,
whose lung cancer branched into her brain.
The bitter sandwich made palatable,
and sometimes fleetingly delectable,
as we played and laughed with, and at
the antics of our blissful granddaughter,
who wanted a new baby to play with,
as yet oblivious to the tense drama
that occupied her grieving parents,
and had brought us quickly to their home.
A sandwich garnished by visits to my aunt,
who we’d never gotten to know well
in all the years she’d lived nearby.
And now we knew how sweet and kind,
she is, and she’d become our forthright friend.
All this has emerged, from a dual emergency,
a pair of disasters, beginning as crisis,
one now ended in tragedy, the second
sure to end the same, in the coming weeks.
Time will bring its standard remedies,
the young marrieds will likely try again,
and perhaps there’ll be a child or two.
If not, their family is sure to grow in love
for the merry child they have, and one another.
With my cousins, we will weep to see Aletha go,
and she will help to get us through it all,
in each and every way she can. Memories
will wet and sting our eyes a little while,
and even these will turn more sweet
and fleeting as the months and years go by.

Tailback

Driving to work along the interstate:
blue lights ahead, I jostle for a place.
The air turns blue with diesel fumes and words;
looming high-sided semis crowd the cars,
lanes merge, teasing tailgating traffic.
An ambulance arrives, two more cop cars.
Drivers retreat inside their cars’ warm shell.
A cheerful voice reads news, sweet music plays
from radios. Passing the crumpled metal, I
contemplate safety before speed, decline
all risks, prefer to sit stationary
in a jam than lie still on the roadside.

Jenny Doughty

Emergency MotherFucking Emergency

Sick sick world.
C’mon, write about liberation
One more time.
I can’t stop myself now
At the Wailing Wall.
They’re still bombing.
Packaging you up for me.
And I’m throwing it up.
I’m out, gone, gone out.
A fat tear on the floor.
I am out of here.
Who can I blame?
It ripped my soul
Right out of my throat--
Whatever it was,
Stole a few bases
On its way home.

Hi all... just returned from a few days away with no internet acccess... I just wrote these four to catch up and having trouble posting so I'm posting them together and tomorrow... or later will enter them in their proper place...Apologies if this is incovenient or annoying to anyone.



Emergency

Sometime there
between the time
you were here
and the summer
you left
I thought there
would be eons
of time
to heal
the void
death brought
instead
your life's end
folded days
into months
and years into
decades
degrees, diplomas
diversions
done in grief's
driven fog
and now in
the clearing
finally
free to run
my foot brushes
feels for
summer grass
feels for
crunching snow
feels for a bridge
back and finds
brushing against
ankles
the pulsating
abyss
not of the time
you left
but of the time
left to me....



21 Invention

As a tiny child
I used to sit
close tight
my eyes
open then
and stare
and wonder
how and when
and where
my idea
would come
mine
from glittered
scattered thought
of something
no one else
had wrought



20 And then the noise stopped

I used to wonder
how and when
one might broach
the time to end
No time seems right
no time seemed fair
to end a union to
break a pair
Not in the morning
over eggs and toast
Not in the evening
with a fancy roast
Not before bed
or in bed
Not a bed topic at all
Not while laughing
And certainly not while
in insecurity's pall
I used to wonder where
and when and how
In the static of
our life I feared
never the now
A ceaseless noise
played ever in my head
The time would never
ever be quite right
It would either be
too early in morning
in the middle of the day
or too close to night
I would be trapped
Unable to even approach
getting unwrapped
Until one day the ceaseless
noise went dead
And in the silence
in my head
collected thoughts
pooled, calm and clear
and finally I could say
Could you please leave now
my dear.......



19 Attachment


You lied in your bed
in that hot August
summer
the linens white and crisp
Your mother peeked in and
recoiled in horror
Your grandson a teen just
murmered 'bummer'
Your wife smiled and fluffed
and smiled some more
and hurried out and in your door

I sat with you upon your bed
And combed cologne through your
silver head
As I sat with you upon your bed
I saw not what the others saw
I saw both less and so much more
My father hair raven black
Broad shoulders, a strong hard back

I sat with you upon your bed
and sang a song you taught me
when I was but three or four
A song you said a sweet sweet poem
sweet chariots coming to take you home

I sat with you upon your bed
smelled the scent of turpentine
saw canvases white turned
to form, color and light
as I stayed with you from
morning to night

I sat with you upon your bed
as I hummed Motzart
in my head
and then you lifted
arms from your bed
with eyes still
closed the concerto
you led

I sat with you upon your bed
And realized that you were seeing
something inexplicably vast there
but you were standing in front
and blocking my view
But for that moment I simply, calmly
unequivocably knew

I sat with you upon your bed
You opened your eyes once and
asked me
When? Am I still here?
I nodded and said you
knew more about this now
that I
You closed your eyes
let out a smiling sigh

I sat with you upon your bed
And felt you breathe and in my head
In deep, sweet scented apricots
your heart mine filled and fed
until you were still
and beautifully, easily dead

"emergency entrance"

the dim dawn startled her
like walking into daylight
from a movie matinee
time playing tricks again
she stumbled over nothing
caught herself and stayed
upright, too tired to fall
with none of the raw fear
that brought her here
all adrenaline and energy
departed hours ago.
She thought a little wryly
it would be too much
to fall and crack her empty
head after all those hours
and finding nothing wrong.
She still felt like a fool
no matter what they said
a little joke better wrong
to think you’re dying than
wrong to think you’re not.
The clerk who checked her in
was leaving fumbling in
her purse and pulling out
a pack of cigarettes. The
man who mopped the
floor around her feet
while she waited hours ago
was waiting at the bus stop,
and an ambulance was
drifting in, no siren on,
no rush. And she had
an urge to call someone
and say I’m still alive.

When Nature Calls

Tenth in line
oh what to do
I won't make it
that's the truth
wiggling
like a garden worm
need relief
'n I mean soon
standing red faced
squeezing knees
crossing legs
I gotta pee

November 22nd, 2009
(prompt-emergency)
(c) Rose Marie Streeter

On Pins & Needles

Anxiously
he waits
for word
to see if she's okay.

She doesn't know
9 hours in the
emergency room
& all they can tell her
is "Sorry"

Days pass
and she struggles
to walk
to eat
to dress herself

She weeps alone
Not showing the
depression
Helpless
is not a word that
described her
but after that day, it did.

The Dark Hours

Grandpa was alone,
living in the same
apartment he had
shared with Grandma.
Brring! Brring!
Three A.M.,
woken from sleep
heart pounding,
hand reaching out
for the phone. Never
get used to calls
in dark hours; first
thought: who died?

They were out there
Grandpa said, those
people shining flashlight
moonbeams of poison
in his windows again,
like last week. How
can he protect himself
from the rays? No,
the shuttered windows
are no protection
against their potions,
seeping through slats.

Four P.M.
finds my father
in a lone subway
station riding toward
the emergency
echoing
in his father’s head.

Some emergencies
Are nothing but drama queens
In urgent clothing.

Oh No . . . I Can’t Find it.

A poem is due on emergency.
Oh, no . . . where can it be?

I saw some words,
A minute ago,
Now I fear,
They fell in the snow.

The phrases!
Where are they?
Have they been frolicking?
In the hay?

I’m in a hurry,
To put this together.
A written emergency!
If I can’t find each letter!

Call all sayings,
Please line up fast!
Before there is a slaying,
Of King’s English past!

Could I see the quotes?
Please and come baring a name!
If you’re sowing wild oats,
Come just the same!

Grab the couplets,
March in the stanzas!
Is Dorothy back from Oz?
If not, I’ll call her in Kansas!

Panic is rising,
What will I do?
If I can’t find the poem,
I wanted to do.

Do I call 911?
Declaring an emergency?
I might do better with numbers,
In this current frenzy!

AHHHHH! Just let it go!

Maybe the emergency,
Is because I won’t take it slow.

Maybe this reaction,
Is nothing but fear!
Running me around,
Keeping my focus unclear.

Ok, each sweet word,
I am calm now please begin.
There was a panic or so I heard.

Now comes an opening . . .
Invite the poem in!

I wonder if there’s a moment just before the explosion
When breathe and thought and memory stick in the throat
And you see stars
The emotion of knowing the end is about to arrive
And there’s nothing you ought to be doing except to survive
Or start to die.
I wonder if there’s a moment just then
When the spokes of the wheels of heaven and earth unite
In the face of hell
And I wonder who feels like they’re winning the race to disaster.
Can anyone can tell?

No need to call an alert , but

Have to get there
before the gate closes...

Bruce is playin' in Buffalo tonight
Open the bridges
Steady the doors
Bruce is playin' in Buffalo tonight--

Wake up--it's only a dream

The concert is tomorrow!

PM27

Emerge
Meteorically
Even
Rocketing
Going
Energetically
Nonstop
Climax
Yearning

Patricia, The Boss was phenomonal TONIGHT! In case you wondered.

WORLD WITHOUT LOVE

Global shortages
comes to bear,
placing people
in the noose
of heartless denial,
souls on trial,
with the one solution
that is in short supply.
There seems there is
no love in the world.
Glimpses show themselves
here and there, but the
signs point toward disaster,
an emotional Armageddon.
Wars and murders, robberies
and mass mayhem means
the news cycle will loop
the lack of caring endlessly.
Love by any means, given the
gravity of the state of
the world, could cure the
angst brought upon our selves.
"All you need is love" but
demanding it makes you
seem needy.
War is over,
if you want it.

Instant Anti-Morphine

The fireplace
that almost rages
out of control

drowsy driving
on the freeway
as the body jerks
with involuntary
spasms

that phone call
piercing the 2am silence
which mercifully
turns out to be
a wrong number

the body responds
the way it was bred:

a flush of adrenaline
like a shot of
instant anti-morphine

signals emergency
and splashes you
with stinging life
and the instinct
to do anything
but surrender.

No moment
more sweet
than the moment
after cheating
death.

Robert
Thank you for your poem yesterday. I was moved by the way you explained an object and took it to the human experience. It seems we learn everything best through direct experience. Thank you for the journey.


Hannah
Thank you for your kind commentary yesterday. Your words were right on regarding peace. It is in our hands and it is our choice. Thank you, Hannah. I appreciate it very much!


Marie Elena
Thank you for your positive comment yesterday too. I am grateful for the time you take to read everyone’s work. I always appreciate your feedback.


Tim Snodgrass
I loved the way you spoke of emerge and opportunity. That is so true. It may not always be pleasant but it is so often the case.


To the poets on the November PAD
Thanks for being in this thing together . . . word for word! :)

Action Stations

Have you combed your hair?
Have you brushed your teeth?
Have you banished the Dust Bunnies
To Oblivion?
Have you done your room?
Have you plumped the pillows?
Have you dusted the furniture
To Within an Inch Of Its Life?
Have you burnished the brass?
Have you cleaned out the grate?
Have you stocked up with nuts and wine?
Have you cleared your sock drawer and
Have you taken the old newspapers to the bring-in site?
And the bottles to the glass bank?
Have you cooked the lasgana
And skewered the kebabs?
Have you sewn on all the buttons,
And cleaned all the combs and brushes?
Have you put out the new soaps,
Have you buffed your nails and
Washed behind your ears?
Hurry scurry hasten dash and dart
Rush fuss scuttle scamper
Rustle and bustle....
Granny’s coming!

Theresa - Your poem makes me want to come vist. Nicely done!
Janet Rice Carnahan - Absolutely delightful. What a fun poem. Thank You!
Buddah Moskowitz - I know that feeling as my wife would attest. Well caputred.

The Journey: Day Twenty-Two: emergency poem

An emerging sea engulfs coastline,
wetlands, gulps air and sand
and rock. Spittle of salt spray dampens
plans to hold back the tide, men
man the boats instead, rowing
fervently for a vanishing shore.
Dikes and levees languish, leak,
are leveled and washed free, their work
done and gone. Water, water everywhere
and yet a dry bone remains,
a tormented soul pulled into the depths,
drowning on air and betting on sandbars,
an emergency, this emerging sea.

“Continued next week”
It can start out quite benignly.
A gentle paddle in a dug-out canoe
Down a slow moving, brown water,
Jungle stream.
At first,
You do not notice the quickening pace,
As the water course narrows.
You do not hear the new sound in the air,
Like whispering thunder.

:How it ends, whatever it is:

The blood rushes from our hearts to our heads
and we close our eyes to the thrumming sound
of egos reeling, turning on their heels to dive
back into the sea and depart the places of our souls.

The levees crash, sandbags rolling on each coming
wave, striking us back against the walls we have built
to shield us from the sun, tossing us like leaves, perhaps
more like tadpoles, into this liquid furnace we ourselves

have stoked. The life rushes from our faces to our toes,
seeping from the soles into these rusted floors, lacing
our feet with the memories of what we used to be, before
we were lusty, before we wanted, before we devoured

the bread another hand had broken. This is the wine
we should not have tasted, the chalice we should have left
a tree or buried in the earth, the apple we should have left
dangling from the tree. We panic and eat tiny

bits of ourselves, cannibalize our own essences
until nothing remains but our outstretched
hands, and even they cannot reach
what we left behind.

Thank you Tim, I am glad you enjoyed the poem.

Ralph

Flash Flood

The first time it rained, I was
a wreck. I remembered
stories my new husband had
mentioned, stories of
basements slowly filling with
water, animals floating by
vacant family room
windows, taking a
rowboat to work.

I imagined my baby being
whisked away in his
bassinet down Bay Avenue.
I lifted him carefully into
my arms, with great
ceremony, like I might
never do it again.

I ran upstairs and tried to
pack a bag, a plastic grocery
bag, with necessities. What
was necessary? I'd never lived in
a city that flooded. Suddenly,
I was homesick.

The rain in this new place, this
strange city, the rain here is
moody and scornful. It assaults
frisbee throwers in the park, crushes
flowers and has been know to
steal umbrellas right out of tightly
clutched hands. The rain here takes a
joy ride and never looks back.

Good morning, all! I'm missing out on greatness here, I'm sure. No reading time as of yet. Out of town yesterday; got home last night, grabbed prompt, wrote quickly, went to bed. Full day awaits, and don't know when I'll get time to read/write. Thinking of you all, and can't wait to get back to you.

Ralph, I received a message from Rand. He asked me to thank you sincerely for your poem honoring Josh. It means a great deal to them. He sent photos of Josh doing what he loved best (hiking), and smiling with his mom's smile (an ex UToledo cheerleader who smiles with her entire face). He ended his message with this: "We have a fixed assurance that Jesus said 'I am the resurrection and the life, he who believes in Me will live, even if he dies.'" The family is in unimaginable pain, but is thankful for the hope that the short 21 years they had with him is not all there will be, but that they will someday be reunited. Thank you again, Ralph, for your beautiful tribute to this family.

Tim - Thanks! You're welcome any time, emergency situation or not.

Inconvenience

The morning after the coal mine
something in my back torn
and I could hardly move
hobble in spasms to the bathroom
stand under the hot shower
and wait for something to ease.

It took the indulgence
of two days bed rest, reading
and gazing at the rectangle
of sky, shivering beech leaves,
red tiled roof across the road
(the view from the little bedroom
lined with books I won’t touch
politics, economics, dry history.)

Mum takes the kids to the park
cooks dinner, helps me dress
I worry how will she get downstairs
If anything ever happens.

he remembered the words,
"in case of emergency, break glass."
and in a state of mind
which reality could not touch,
he busted out the windows
all along High.
if ever there were an
emergency, this was it.

The unexpected deluge


Bartholomew Foggerty, the brilliant weasel,
Was out on the lakeside with his easel
He certainly did not lack company
The artists that day numbered twenty-three
All trying their best to capture the light
And produce something that looked just right
One fellow had stopped to take a walk
And came up to Bart and started to talk
Why yes! It seems you’ve got a good eye
I love the way you’ve painted the sky
Just then the sky itself took a turn
For the worse and the artists started to gurn
For one thing for sure that rainfall aint
Is friendly or kind to water based paint
Canvasses were covered and easels folded
The weasel clenched his paw and the sky scolded
Well at least the hotel is warm and dry
And for sure this will pass by and by
But back at base and staring out
Bart came his words to doubt
For there seemed no ending to the downpour
Which was starting to seep under the door
The streets were awash and the flood getting higher
(They moved to the first floor where it was drier)
They stared at a man paddling a boat
Filled with chickens and a piebald goat
A chap rushed in and yelled ” Quick, you three!”
There’s a little old lady stuck in a tree
How she arrived to gain such height
Wasn’t known but such was her plight
With the water rising, her and her cat
Were in harms way and that was a fact
The two other fellows dashed of forthwith
But Bart had unfortunately an excuse to give
You see weasels by habit seldom climb trees
And water made Bart shake to his knees
And even when he was young fit and slim
He never ever did learn to swim
And so he said sorry I just can’t make it
I’m afraid my nerves really won’t take it
The chap in a hurry quite understood
There were many that were afraid of the flood
Bart watched the rescuers setting forth
And pondered on why he’d come so far north
In terms of his art it had been a success
But down in the south it rained by far less
He did however think what a treat
To ride in a boat down the high street
But the prospect of him getting soaked
Made him cough and he almost choked
On the brandy he’d taken for his nerves
(It was a fine Napoleon Grand Reserve)
The weasel decided that as soon as he might
He’d take a train all through the night
And head for his home warm and dry
And there his trade again would ply
He had many painting to take with him
And was sure that he’d soon be in the swim
Cash wise that is, not splashing around
Goodness! He hoped the old lady wasn’t drowned
It took five days for the flood to subside
But eventually Bart obtained a ride
And off he went without hesitation
To buy a ticket for his destination
As the train rumbled south the sun came out
And Bartholomew’s heart began to shout
Soon home again my fortune to make
I wonder how long it will take?
Soon enough Bart was back in Town
And heading home to settle down
To some serious business and plentiful sales
And no more floods or terrible gales
When Bart arrived at his little abode
He admired it for a while from across the road
Then he walked up the stairs
With a strange tingling in his hairs
But what is this! As he went through the door
He’d forgotten the abstract on the floor
At the very least the paint had dried
But Bart wondered for what he had tried
The canvas looked an almighty mess
And one thing of which Bart was sure
He’d never get it out the door!


Iain

I’ve been out of town without internet access while attending an English teachers’ conference, so I’m playing catch up.

Exclamation Point

A bit of writing advice
emerging voices,
to young writers
more adept
at texts and tweets,
whose laughter
rings lol,
not hah,
who wish keyboards
had icons
for dotting I’s
with loops
and hearts:
Use exclamation points
sparingly.
Trust your words
to carry their
own weight.
Save them instead
for true emergencies:
Your hair is on fire!
I won the lottery!
The baby’s coming—now!

Clarity


An ambulance ride
was enough to convince her
that suicide was not an option

A simple accident,
all it took to clarify
a cloudy issue

Facing death, suddenly
life’s a precious gift
meant to be savored,
not squandered

Robert, your Houston...poem today!

Carol

Day 22 Off the Edge


You step off the edge:
This is tomorrow.
This is the uncertain,
that first moment when
nothing restrains you
only air under your feet
the earth waits below.

You reach terminal velocity,
dive toward clouds,
tell yourself they are not solid,
their vapour will not break your fall

The air surrounds you,
a slight pressure,
supports and comforts
while you float.

The comfortable ordinary,
your parachute on this flight,
a tug on the ripcord:

Will it open?

Carol A. Stephen
November 22, 2009
PAD Challenge poem

Day 22 – Emergency

Call 911
I’ve lost my keys
They were right there
A minute ago
And now they’re gone

I can’t leave
Cause I can’t lock
The door
I can’t go to work
Cause I can’t find
My keys

Okay deep breath
Heart pounding
Retrace my steps
Where was I last

Bathroom?
Nope
Kitchen?
Nope
Bedroom closet
Nope

Don’t you keep
An extra set?
This is the extra set
Where’s the fire?
I can’t find my keys

Cool me down
Get an ice pack
For this headache
Open the freezer
There’s my keys

The Miracle

She stepped from the tub
The familiar pain was back.
She told her husband
He called 911.
No one need tell her
This was heart attack number three.
The ambulance arrived in less than
ten minutes.
The ride was a blur
The pain steady, pressing like a boulder on her chest.
At the hospital they rushed her into surgery.
Her heart stopped.
Her family was told.
Paddles applied.
And then a miracle.
Her heart beat again, blockage removed,
five stints inserted.
If she makes it through the night...chances will be better.
If she makes it through tomorrow...we can breathe again.
She made it! She made it! She made it!
Then Mom came back home!

Walt--thanks for the note about the concert--my sister and my daughter concur--the Boss was great--they were glad to be there for such a piece of history.

Pre-concert urgency=emergency, of sorts!

--Patricia

There'ssomethingwrongwithmycomputer

AtfirstIthought
Itwasjustthepage
ButnomatterwhereItype
Itcomesoutthesame
Icanwritepoetry
Becauseyouunderstand
theartofit
Butanythingelse
would
have
to
be
written
like
this
somebodypleasefixthiskeyboard

Nothing Personal 11-22-09

Sirens blare,
spot on a spotless morning,
otherwise still
except occasional cars whooshing nearby.
I barely glance up at the flashing red lights.


While I stand and watch a playful couple edge down
quarried head-sized rocks of limestone guarding
the riverbank from erosion,
EMTs speed elsewhere, adrenaline-rushed.

Conditioned to the high-decibeled interruption
so often heard,
I don’t think of it as urgent
nor implore the ambulance to
hurry.

It isn’t my emergency.

Don't dial 911 until I tell you...

I have an emergency to report.
My heart's dry, mouth's racing, lungs
don't want to work, despite my
respirator's best intentions.

What's the matter? Am I having
palpitations? Skin clammy? About
to pass out? Yes! God, yes! Look
at him, staring at me. Not

noticing anything but the fear in
my eyes. Staring at me like I'm some
herd animal his sleek cheetah self
has picked out as prey. I hope

his hide's thick 'cause this antelope
only looks harmless. But, baby, please
let my hopeless, helpless self lure
him in so I can learn a hard

lesson in lust. Emergency
services, stay away until I call you in
to haul off a broken heart.

THE MOMENT OF URGENCY

The true center, your hands, blessing
the one who has returned after a long journey—

your eyes, cloudy and half-blind, as you look down
at the son kneeling before you

as if blindness were grace, as if you did not know
what that young man did while he was far off—

while in the shadows, another figure, darkened
by jealousy or anger or unmet desire

yearns to feel those hands blessing him, too
as if he were Jacob, not Esau—

but none of you look up at me, waiting endlessly,
for your love to redeem me from this life of pain.

Jane Beal
sanctuarypoet.net

Choices: Day 22: Emergency

Run!

Quick now: hold your breath
and run! Run away from exploding
dreams, collapsing hope, devouring flames.

Run into daylight and birdsong,
into meadows and mountains.

Run into waterfalls and forest,
into moonbeams and rainbows.

Believe in the beauty surrounding you.
Leave the wreckage behind.
Emerge and see.

Emergency

Jesus, this is an emergency,
I need an answer quickly,
no where else to turn, so
hurry please, I’m down
on my knees. What should
I do? Remove the ventilator
and let her die? Or keep
her plugged in and hope
she can recover? They are
waiting for my answer. Give
me a sign, I am desperate.
I know I haven’t prayed much
before, but I know you hear
the pleas of your children.
Help me, Lord, help me.

HELP! EMERGENCY!

Help!
Emergency!

You don’t seem to understand.

I’m stuck in here,
all alone,
and necessity prevails!

However,
it appears
that what I need most
is missing.

Will you please,
please,
please
bring me
some toilet paper?

Should this
consitute
an emergency?

Your blood
on my pillow—

It’s a room in the house
But not a part of the home.
Each time I walk by the doorway
My heart beats faster,
My breath hard to force,
The darkness just a few
Steps away from where I stand.

Frozen feet on the tile,
My soul declaring an
Emergency of the senses.
Too much history
Lurking inside,
The walls painted with rage,
The windows shut tight.

Saving myself I find the
Strength to walk away
But with a quick look back
In my heart I know
That door is still open
Just waiting for the day
I’m weak enough to
Step inside again.

Mayday, Mayday

She walks into the crowded bar, sees him sitting on a couch
under a tassled lamp. She sits in a high-backed chair and stares
at the brick wall, avoiding his eyes. He hands her a glass of burgundy
and says, Glad you came. She hates this part, the part where he begs
her to reconsider, words crawling out of his mouth like ants
she wants to crush. She turns her eyes toward him, takes in
the sincere, open face, rumpled black shirt, ripped skinny jeans,
oversized biker boots she used to think were hot. She used to like
power rippling molten through her veins when guys would beg her
to take them back, but tonight it’s nauseating, like too much caffeine.
Should she string him along or freeze him out now?
A new, benign voice from somewhere under her fourth rib speaks up,
unlike the wrought-iron voice she usually invokes to impale them with.
She hears herself say, It’s okay, everyone has off days, and thinks,
What are you doing? Don’t cave so easily, as he takes her cold, hard hand
in his muscled one and she realizes something in her wants
love more than power, and it will have its way in spite of her.

EMERGENCY

White-garbed
masked doctors
poke cold steel inside Hank
but he doesn't mind,
no not at all.

"Take it out!"
he yells
as the anaesthetist
pumps harder until the
head surgeon finally cries out
that he found it
and something drops
in the surgical tray
with a clank.

Hank insists on seeing
and when he does
he cries
joyous tears
because after all these years
his writer's block
is gone.

Emergency Rations

Out of coffee.
Out of wine.
Out of gas.
Out of time.
Out of patience.
Out of sorts.
Out of ships
and out of ports.
Out of guns
and butter too.
Out of love
both old and new.
Out of cigarettes.
Out of beer.
Out of money.
Out of good cheer.

Well, then, what’s left?
What can we do?
Let’s just be thankful
for me and for you.

To the Rescue

When I was a child of four who spent
Her days imaging games with the
Neighborhood kids and a special friend
Anna Marie, the girl next door
Our yards separated by a prickly hedge
You had to walk around to the side-
Walk out in front. An old neighborhood
Even then, in the days of the great
Depression when every one was poor.

The morning I remember, Anna Marie and
I were playing in our yard. My mother was
On the porch washing clothes – she used the
Old community washing machine that had
A tub and wringer and not much else…Suddenly

We heard the screams, perhaps we screamed
Ourselves, running to the porch where my
Mother’s arm had been seized by the wringer
And would not let go
All the neighbors ran outside

Including Officer Feeney who had stopped
To have a cup of tea with his sister, the
Mother of Anna Marie. When he heard the
Commotion outside he didn’t take the time

To run around the side walk – no, what he
Did was leap the hedge – sailed over in a
Single bound, unplugged the machine and
Set my mother free! What a hero! I
Remember how the neighbors cheered
While I clung to my mother, crying,

Later, I stood next to the hedge. It was
As tall as me. I don’t remember the
Cameras, the newspaper interview.
But when I read of Superman who
Could leap
Tall buildings in a single bound I
Remember Officer Feeney
who did it first.

Jungle '57 911

Danger is silent in the Malay jungle,
blends with both sunlight and dark
stripes of moving shadows,
eyes of fire and predation, waiting.
Kiwi soldier never heard her
till she growled like a lover on his neck,
and pulled back half his scalp.
In searing, frightening pain,
deep in the Malay jungle
danger had him.

He flew a Sycamore lighter than he ever made love,
low over the dense canopy of emerald jungle.
Left family back at the pool when his call came,
now miles away, hovering to load a half-dead Kiwi,
pulled from deadly tiger's embrace to safety, perhaps,
but danger clings like tropic jungle mist, as he keeps her low
and steady....low.....low....eyes now on the fuel gauge.
Stone-faced he radioed base, sitting deeper in the saddle;
from landmark to landmark, watching the needle's fall.
She came down on fumes but damn she landed like a lady,
delivering Kiwi to help and a new life far away from danger
of light and shadow, from silence in the Malay jungle.

**************************************************

911 Haiku

Help me I've fallen
reaching too far for the prompt
now I can't get up

Up at 4
Saturday,
Not that I
want to
precede
the sun

Built that way—
Is it the history
of farming
some generations
back?

By 11
so much done
dishes, poems,
laundry, bills

Then the errands,
indulgent lunch

By 3,
I have to
have it

I must

Can’t go on

Get me there now
It’s a nap emergency
I sink into
the pillow
with soft, sighing
urgency

Hit and Run

Yes, I called 9-1-1;
I’m the victim here in the street.
Please note the tire tracks on my back –
I’ve been run over.

Yes, I can describe the car and the driver.
She was in a red convertible,
and here’s the license plate number.

That’s all right,
I can get in the ambulance myself.
Nothing’s broken –
well, maybe one thing.

Don’t bother to take any vital signs –
you’ll find no pulse or heartbeat.
Didn’t you notice the hole in my chest?

Yes, I think I know where it is –
she’s doing 85 on the interstate now,
wind in her hair,
while it lies bleeding on the passenger seat,
defiantly beating.

Emergency

He lay on his back, his eyes staring sightlessly at the black winter sky;
at the clouds, scudding low, obscuring and revealing pinpoint starlight.

His mind was filled with glowing red fog,
slowly dissipating, allowing his thoughts to start up again.

He struggled to realize where he was; what had happened.

As his vision started to clear, he recognized the stars against the black sky;
began to recall that he had been driving the gravel road that led to his home;
that something had flashed across the road, caught in the headlights;
swerving , spinning, sounds of crushing metal and breaking glass,
the cold night air assaulting his face as he was thrown clear,
a fleeting glimpse of a deer leaping into the underbrush.

Now silence filled his ears, pierced only by the whistling of the wind
in the naked trees that stretched their slender black fingers
toward the snow-laden clouds.

His mind turned to his body, frantically inventorying its parts:
there was a pain in his head, and a warm trickle of something
was beginning to obscure the vision in his left eye.

When he tried to lift his arm to wipe it away, his shoulder exploded in pain;
his right arm, still functional, instinctively grabbed it to ease the pain;
he could not feel his legs.

The night was cold, and as he gathered his coat around him,
his hand touched his cell phone.

Perhaps he would not die.

Cars quickly cut right
making way for the lights
and the screaming
of the ambulance.
Prayers are shot heavenward.
Children cry in back seats.
Then it's gone.
No trail of disturbance
follows in its wake.
Inside pain and terror
keep all company.

If You Know Your Party’s Extension

Press 1 for sales
Press 2 for billing
If you’d like to make a payment press 3
Damn it, I want to hear a human voice
a hand, that human touch
i don’t like this bad connection
Press 4 to place an order
Press 5 to check the status of an existing order
My whole world is out of order!
i’m feeling rather anxious and can’t help but wonder,
where do i go from here?
all i want to do is have some pleasant conversation
but the world keeps spinning in circles
Press 6 if you would like to talk to a representative
finally!
my nervous digits press down and i hear a voice
due to the high volume of calls your wait time is approximately...
30 minutes or more, unless you know your party’s extension
If this is an emergency, please hang up
and dial 911

Day 22 Emergency

Hospitals
Sterile, contaminated
Waiting, debating, healing
prayers for the sick
Infirmaries

Emergency
Death, birth
Dreaming, breathing, beating
On his chest
Tragedy

Pain
Pill, shots
Writhing, screaming, wailing
The call lights failing
anguish

Emergency



Emergency to me is when

Nothing else will do

Not a lady with a sore ass

Or a man who's booze, abused



Emergency is when a life depends

On this help to stay alive

Not an entrance cause of headache

To Med pros this just don't jive



Some folks work in places

Where the job means lives online

Thankful for these special folks

For I know they have saved mine

Emergency Poems


Because I date men who are literate, vain,
and easily flattered, I’ve found
they like to pretend they’re the muse to my pen,
so I like to keep poems around.

There’s one that is passionate, one that is sweet,
and several that end with a sigh,
and one fairly obscure (but with images pure)
for the poetry-editor guy.

At dinner, in bed, verses run through my head
depending on whom I’m impressing;
if he’s handsome and lean, I’ll whip out a sestina
before he has finished undressing.

Cool little haikus are stashed in the fridge,
the sonnets I keep in a drawer;
Rhyme and rhythm uncover the best in a lover—
and what else is poetry for?

Y2K

Our neighbor was a favor-maker,
once roaring over to tame an hysterical me
shrieking for remedy or restitution of sorts
for the irreparable death of dachshund Penny,
our beloved pet, whom I ran over. Debts
like that can never be repaid, except maybe
by saving a life. Something big like that.

What did I know of taking action in disasters:
Emergency contact numbers were rarely written
or kept current, let alone taped to the back door;
Syrup of Ipecac always past its expiration date.

Until Y2K rolled in and like a hurricane
I became a manic family disaster supply
list maker, manipulator and physician,
lying to obtain duplicate prescriptions,
stocking three backpacks at our base camp
of a back door, buying a generator to share
with my neighbor, in a guilt-freeing makeover
of a disaster kit now me ~ trouncing the enemy,
metaphoric dragon-slayer, and of course,
now steady for the occasional minor emergency.

22 EMERGENCY

Lights and sirens going
Blazin’ on through
Empty nest happ’nin’
What we gonna do?

Gonna run down to the sheltah
See just what they got
In a shiny black nose and waggy tail
Get ‘em while they’re hot

Then we got the pair’a them
Saw them in the ad
Just one thing left to do
They hafta meet their dad

Signed up all the papers
Bought two brand new leads
Now when I look up I shall spy
Four lovely shiny beads

They chase me through the house
Never leave me alone
They chew up lots of stuff o’mine
Gotta hunt them down a bone

I cannot get away from them
Their love is just for me
No more peaceful empty nesting
Only piles of love for me!

Help! I'm frozen, I can't feel my toes!
Young one, take off your wet clothes and warm by the fire.

Help! I'm drowning, I can't take a breath!
Sweetheart, head out of bath water, open your mouth.

Help! I'm blind, I can't see anything!
Baby, unwrap the scarf from your head, look around.

Help! I'd deaf, can you speak a little louder?
Honey, stop talking, remove your hands from your ears.

Help! I'm scared, there are monsters out there.
Wee one, it's a closet, come snuggle, I'll hold you.

Help! What would I do without your lap?
My child, I am here for you 'til the end of time.

I'm as close as you want me,
Steadfast in my love,
Your mother, protector
Sent down from above
To raise you, to love you
And when day is done
To send you off ready
Your own life begun.

Thank you Marie. It has been an honor to be able to use my writing to help. Please convey my deepest condolences to Josh's family.

Ralph.

Marian Veverka, your poem "To The Rescue" is wonderfully rendered, thank you for sharing your work.

Emergency! I can't believe
I just saw that. I need help
now before I scratch my
own eyes out!

Rachel Ruth

When the day of days came
I was determined to be there,
told the boss of a period of a week
when I may have to race across the yard
leap through the window cautiously left open
burn rubber and tear off into the hills
of Iserlohn, but, in the event it was so calm
and orderly. At home, a few rhythms,
then a few more
getting closer together,
and we were off into a slow slalom,
higher and slowly higher
until we saw the old Argonne barracks,
built in the nineteen thirtees to house the cavalry.
This was not going to be an emergency
but a lovely slow emergence in
tranquility.

But it is slow and tranquil, it could be many hours
or days. If I were you I would go home, relax
enjoy your evening meal, enjoy your sleep,
and we will call you a bit closer to the time.

Brrrrrrnnnngggghhhh. Wassatt, wassatt...
Ohhhhh damned shoes... bbbrrrrnnnggghhh...
arrrgggghhhello, hello.... Yes, Iserlohn calling,
sister here. Yes, yes, you promised me the call,
shall I come now?

Yes, I did, I did, you should, congratulations.

Emergencies of Scale
By: Meena Rose

A state of emergency;
A national tragedy;
9/11.

Lives lost;
Families broken;
Future disrupted.

A state of emergency;
A regional tragedy;
Katrina.

Lives lost;
Families broken;
Future disrupted.

A state of emergency;
A neighborhood tragedy;
Thanksgiving massacre.

Lives lost;
Families broken;
Future disrupted.

A state of emergency;
A personal tragedy;
Loved one gone too soon.

Lives lost;
Families broken;
Future disrupted.

A Night in the ER at the Alex

Take one newborn, extra sleepy
To one over-crowded ER
Late at night and prepare
To wait and wait and wait

Observations abound
The pantheon of humanity
Joins hands in the ER
All worshipping medicine

See the homeless guy
In the camouflage shirt reading
“You Can’t See Me”
Ironic – nobody’s helped him

How about the handcuffed one
Being guarded by the bored cop
They are here when you arrive
And they are here when you leave.

A glazed-eyed wild-haired zombie
Strolls through lobby again and again
Aimlessly, talking to herself, red crocks
Slapping against her cracked dry heels

A sketchy thin guy shivers in a wheelchair
He looks homeless also, and freezing
Although the night is warm; a kind nurse
Brings a blanket and wraps it around him

Two young native women chat animatedly
About how long they’ve been there
Then yawn and stay quiet for some time
We can’t believe we heard “8 hours”

The baby is still sleeping, we worry
Get ready to ask when it will be his turn
Just as the nurse calls his name – it has
Only been 6 hours – we wonder what
Exactly constitutes an emergency...

The siren sounds
The light dances around
Adrenalin is running
Blindly they go in

Hearing bystanders sighs
The devastation is amplified
Searching for those in need
Leave no one, is their creed

Running Out of Time

In this world, where time works for those
with the capital to buy as much and more
than they need, time is running out!
The glut of excess has clogged the arteries
of life as most have known it – for those
not lucky enough to have even a crumb
of what others throw away, the life blood
has ceased to flow. Welcoming Death is
the only joy allowed. The others turn
from the suffering to immerse themselves
in the luxury of not knowing, oblivious that
the clock has struck its last chime for them, too!

Emergency

Only two more days
of the PAD challeng
and I have
a serious case
of writer’s
block.

Lexington, We Have an Emergency

A shortage in supply of love
in Lexington, the alcohol
replaced— Blood.

David said, "We need to love him more."
He had come home
another crisis. Our father
lay in a hospital ER bed,
bloated as a Macy's parade balloon.
While through the night
hatching a plan for our father's
Resurrection.

More than the bottles in line,
will they stop the bleeding this time—

"But I do love him."
"Bean, we'll have to love him more."

Largemouth in the cove

Largemouth in the cove --
Bullfrogs on the shore
Sound the alarm

PAIN

A pain in the belly
doesn't always mean emergency;
but when it doesn't go away,
there may be some urgency.

Something is obviously wrong
when there's a constant pain;
a pain that just continues,
doesn't subside and only gains.

This kind of pain requires a visit
to your nearest doctor or ER;
something is wrong
and only a picture knows for sure.

Immediate Demands

I hate it when something touted as
really important in my real everyday life
interrupts my imaginary wanderings
at the critical point when the characters
I created are becoming real to me.
Come on now, if it isn’t about
Blood, Bones or Breathing,
Does it really constitute an emergency?
Kids? Anyone?
Hello?
I guess it wasn’t all that pressing after all

SANTA’S CRASH DIET

The missus of deepest North Pole
begged Santa to get some control
of appetite for all things sweet
as winter approached bold and fleet

Now just ten days ere Christmas Eve,
for practice the crew had to leave
The boss climbed aboard and yelled “Go!”
but the team, like molasses, went slow!

Poor Rudolf’s light flared and went dim,
and though they’d achieved fighting trim,
the vehicle weight did exceed
the max they could handle with speed!

The smile on fat Santa’s face fell;
he looked down at his belly-swell,
ashamed before the complement,
apologized, then off he went

The reindeer were all up in arms
The elves went to sound the alarms
One thing might work; he must try it:
a ten-day celebrity diet!

The missus spoke on her cell phone
“Emergency, won’t you please come?”
She hung up and said, “It’s okay…
My friend Jenny Craig’s on her way!”

The North Pole all got mobilized,
awaiting the one night they prized
When Santa jogged by in a sweat,
they cheered and yelled, “You’ll make it yet!”

Elves claiming to be in the know
set rumors a-fly like fresh snow…
“Our Santa’s receiving colonics
and sneaking to drink gin and tonics.

“The missus threw all his suits out
at Jenny’s demand, there’s no doubt…
He’s sleeping alone on the couch
because he’s turned into a grouch!”

And so on until the last day.
The team longed to get underway,
so at the appointed hour
they gathered outside Santa’s tower.

A slim and suave Santa stepped out
in new red suit belted about
Hurrahs arose loud from the crowd
as Santa acknowledged and bowed

“Thanks, everyone, but as you know
it’s time to get on with the show.
Get ready now for the pre-flight;
ahead of us is a long night.”

The checklist was done, one, two, three,
all signals sent via light-tree
When take-off was cleared at the last
the team lifted off with a blast

Now Santa’s not tempted by sweets
to the point where he gets obese
If craving comes he will deny it;
he can’t bear another crash diet!