Guns killed nineteen children
And the incumbent governor
Barely blinked
Aside from thoughts and prayers
Nothing’s been done since ten souls
Perished in Buffalo where
An 18-year-old went gunning for
Black people with hate in his heart
The devil danced
In Orlando and Sandy Hook,
Las Vegas and Charleston,
Columbine and Paducah,
Without blinking
Different faces
Different names
But the devil doesn’t care
And the gun cult extends a hand
For yet another dance.
Occasionally I write poetry, and when the spirit moves me these poems deal with the horrors of gun violence. When I came across a piece on Facebook about a series of poetry reading events across Florida to keep the conversation surrounding gun deaths front and center, I thought to myself, “Oh, I’d do this if an event was scheduled for Tallahassee.”
Scrolling down the list I read:
Oh. I see there is one here. Deep breath. Myself isn’t feeling all that cocky right now.
The thing is, I don’t know if any of my pieces are good enough to present. I’ve only ever read my own works in front of an audience once or twice, and then I shook so hard my teeth rattled.
What say you, friends? Is this one of those things I should allow to fall by the wayside, or should I jump in with both feet? Awaiting the wisdoms of my readers, especially the poets among you. Please be honest. I’d rather not make a fool of myself at this event.
Here’s one for your consideration:
Guns in Church
Will we take our guns to church now?
Jesus take the wheel, but leave me my pistol
Dylan Roof opened fire in a South Carolina prayer meeting
Now more dead occupy the pews in Texas
Just wondering which firearm goes best with Psalms.
Yea, tho I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil,
For I am armed with an automatic weapon.
No doubt lawmakers will offer meaningless thoughts and prayers
Their mantra sounding weaker by the hour
Who will answer for these deaths?
And here is another:
Guns and Thorns
the fetishists have cried,
“leave our guns alone!”
when no one has called
for their removal.
paranoid fools who fail
to see or care, cry time
and time again that any
move breeds futility
while still more innocents
die and we offer up only
thoughts and prayers.
Peace, people.
Spring for Some
By Leslie Noyes
Spring comes early in Florida.
Flowers blossom and the grass grows taller. Bees pollinate, birds court, squirrels scamper. It’s a time of life and renewal.
But as I walked around my yard today taking these photos I was overcome with grief. Surrounded by this display of life in bloom, I stopped to pray for those whose lives were cut short by a gunman last week in Parkland, Florida. Seventeen people who won’t experience spring’s beauty. Young people who will never get to hold their own babies or experience the joy of being a grandparent, growing old with their spouses. I prayed, too, for their families whose lives will never be the same.
One individual with a high-powered rifle ended the hopes and dreams of 17 people in less than five minutes. Was he mentally ill? Perhaps. Did society fail him? More than likely. Did numerous agencies fail to do their jobs? Perhaps, but until someone commits a crime these agencies often have their hands tied. If he hadn’t had easy access to guns would he have found another way to attack? It’s possible. BUT, he DID have easy access to guns, and this access allowed him to literally destroy 17 lives and figuratively destroy hundreds of others.
So stop with your second amendment talking points. Let’s do the right thing and begin looking at real solutions to gun violence in this country.
Peace, please, people.
I can point out the cracks,
The places that never quite heal
This one from Newtown
Another from a Texas church
And all those in between
Etchings on this old heart,
Dinged by each death,
Pitted by the greed of lawmakers
Broken by the callous, rote responses,
Their thoughts and prayers
Who will take this cup from me?
Who wants this scarred heart?
I’m tired of carrying the damage around
Of wounds that don’t mend
And people who don’t care.
Chaos does not sleep
Just points his gun and takes aim
Chips fall where they may
Collect your fallen
Move along, nothing to see
Prayers and thoughts sent
What’s one more life lost?
After Sandy Hook we shed
Our humanity
Doright Manor is nestled on a small lake in a wooded area just outside of Tallahassee, Florida. Our nights are filled with the sounds of frogs exerting dominance over their domain and the occasional hoot of an owl.
Occasionally, though, the sounds of lake life are accompanied by the sounds of muffled gunfire from a nearby gun range. Tonight the gun reports are seemingly non-stop, and even though they’re far enough away as to be non-threatening, I cannot help but imagine what the victims of gun violence in Orlando experienced upon hearing that pop pop pop up close.
Was that one meant for me?
Dear God, my friend’s been killed.
Oh Mother, I loved you so!
Every National Rifle Association member should be required to visit with the family of someone murdered by a gun. Wayne LaPierre, president of the NRA, should be required to walk through a site devastated by gun violence. He should have to face the families affected and explain to them why the AK 47 is necessary to their security and health.
But cowardice is the hallmark of the NRA. They hide behind their beloved guns and talk the big talk. Only a good guy with a gun…show me those good guys for I have yet to see a single one.
Peace, people.
more deaths.
we mourn
we cajole
we raise
our fists
in anger and
despair.
cries of
never again
ascend to
the heavens,
and yet
more deaths.
Praying for Eyebrowz 