“We’re fighting for soil, land, food, trees, water, birds. We’re fighting for life.” – Gregorio Mirabal, Indigenous leader and coordinator of the Coordinator of Indigenous Organizations of the Amazon Basin (COICA)
the Amazon burns! No one
quells the fires
air; knowledge is lost in the fire.
Waters run polluted! No one
seeks to free fish
or children drinking poison.
Air spins in cyclones
destroying all under its twisting cloud
flooding the earth.
Metal is used to make war
are called predators by those who’ve only known comfort.
Are we but people
whatever language colour, creed
we came from one source?
But will expire
in our own detritus
unless we care for our planet
which will spin
into the void of extinction
unless we care for it and others.
© 2019, Carolyn O’Connell
Thanks to G.Jamie Deeds
This anthology confronts something difficult: when our news bullintens reel off disaster after disaster, how do we respond to voilence and tragedy? It takes a poet to make sensce of it. In this document for troubled times, contempory poets offer their response in various ways – grieving, consoling, protesting questioning and measuring losses.
Profits will be donated to Médicins Sans Frontièrs
I feel honoured to be included thanks to Moria Andrew and Susan Sims
A Poem from my collection Timelines was selected as one of the April poems of the month on Second Light Live. I feel honored to be chosen. This is the poem
Diamonds fall on glass, rain on the window
patterns of water shimmering in the dawn
not precious gems, eternal settings of graphite
pressed for millennia beneath specific rocks.
Worn by women as tokens of affection, pride
of their menfolk as they sport rich gifts,
the carat of a poor man pledging life
a bauble cast unheeding by the oligarch.
One set of diamonds a young mother wore
token not of love but duty to be done
her pledge no to a single man but
to a race she never wished was hers
and on that day the diamonds were returned
to wait in silence for another’s brow,
now a lifetime’s past, children then undreamt
walk streets changed beyond concept,
all that was sixty years ago.
Poem published in collection, Timelines, Indigo Dreams, 2014
Collection: Timelines, Indigo Dreams, 2014, ISBN 978-1-909357-53-2, £7.99
Anthology: Mirrored Voices Emerging Poets Anthology, Star Investment Strategies LLC, 2015, ISBN 978-1-5077107-1-5, £6.95.
Timelines is also available at Amazon https://www.amazon.co.uk/Timelines-Carolyn-OConnell/dp/1909357537/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Carolyn+O%27Connell&qid=1555078862&s=books&sr=1-1-catcorr
The following poem was published in the April issue of Reach Poetry 247
Thanks to Ronnie Goodyer the Editor for selecting it.
Transactions on Thursdays
The last snow had melted, slowly the days’ length
etched into a pattern of rising, brightening hours;
doors slowly opened, boats swayed in tides
the town waited for the Dutchman
who would tie up on Thursday.
All winter women filled the baskets with bulbs
platting them into skein-species that hung
in coils waiting for hands to drape them in baskets
lined around the hold of the ship skippered by
the Dutchman who took them on Thursdays.
Then the market would fill with flag-fluttered stalls
displaying bursting bulb-baskets, ready to ship
and bales of lace crocheted by skilled fingers
all for the Dutchman who would buy
when he came to purchase on Thursdays.
Then the Dutchman sailed down river to the sea,
in boats filled with bulbs and lace ready to sell
to the astute market men ready to buy
from the Dutchman delivering the newest promise
for investors waiting on Thursdays.