The Plague Diaries and the Annals of the New Utopia (IFT)

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

On Ashen Winds



In Hiroshima,
the building at ground zero
still stands as it was,
despite decades of weather,
and the slow tick, tick of time.

The Genbaku Dome,
created in the future
by thoughtful humans,
was sent back to bear the brunt
of the atomic bomb’s blast.

Only the humans
from the New Utopia
know how to do this.
So we take it as a sign
that humanity survives.

They failed to predict
our past inhumanity.
Future humans lost
the ability to see
beyond singularities.

They have scant records
of our destructive nature,
but they see a path
of history in which Death
swallows all humanity.

Another path leads
to the New Utopia.
From there, the great Dome
was sent back to imprison
the Death God, Shinigami.

The Shinigami
who'd destroy humanity
chose Hiroshima
as his nest. The dome contains
and holds his evil spirit.

When you look on it—
the battered walls, the echoes
of the blast, the cries
of the dead and the dying—
your sight helps to contain him.

If Genbaku Dome
should ever crumble to Earth—
ever disappear—
then the New Utopia
will not emerge. Silence. Death.

The future humans
believe in us, even when
we do not believe
in ourselves. There are flowers
blooming in Hiroshima

in the far future.
They tend them in the shadow
of Genbaku Dome.
The wind blows cold ashes, and
their children dance in the sun—

and they are counting
on us to see for them—for
they are blind. The veil
of time’s singularity
obscures the diverging paths.

We must have clear sight.
We must always remember.
We must contain Death.
We must soar on ashen winds
to the New Utopia.

---

BrianIs AtYou

[Mimic_Octopus]

Hi Brian! Thanks for a fantastically entertaining NaPo thread!

I really love the voice in "Time for Wine". In the wrong hands, trying an accent of broken English could be troublesome, but here we have a fully realised speaker, and she's likeable, rounded and sage with a story to tell - her outsider status gives her an insight and a sharp comparison.

I also love "I had a thought", which works so well as a visual poem, but is also a deceptively simple piece - by mixing it with the flag, you've got an elegant satirical symbol with which to skewer the repetitions of pledges, of prayers, of political slogans that in the end have nothing but air inside them.

Eye Deaf (Ear Blind) - I like the gradual feeling out using each sense and sensation one by one. There's a tenderness, a curiousness and the structure slows the read right down so we take a step at a time alongside you.

Good luck in the final strait!

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

Thanks, Kristy!

I worked to get the voice authentic in "Time for Wine". It is based on several discussions with my Mom's part-time housekeeping helper, D, who is actually an immigrant from Poland. My Mom's ethnic background is also Polish, so they get along well. D has featured in a handful of The Plague Diaries. When I read "Time for Wine" myself, it is in her voice.

I had fun with the American Flag experiment. I am still waiting to see if the idea can be used. Possibly other line lengths, other configurations, and other flags. Maybe I could do a seven for flags of different countries.

I'm glad that Eye Deaf (Ear Blind) worked for you. That was a deliberate experiment to get away from the narrative structures of the Plague Diaries and the metrical bent of some of the recent New Utopia pieces.

Next, I am returning to the metrical bent, but with a twist!

We're close to the finish line!

BrianIs AtYou

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

Pastichio Pistachio



I'm yearning to write a pastiche of myself.
I'll put those pistachios out on the shelf.
I'll mimic old verses with old well-worn phrases
that I can excuse thus: “I went through some phases.”

If pastiche of pistachios gives you a fright,
I’ll turn it around with some Turkish delight.
If that don’t delight you, I’ll turn around, too,
and spin a stentorian story for you.

And even this verse, with its rollicking meter,
is cursed as my prosody grows obsoleter.
I'll make up some rhymes, too, if that's fine with you,
and then I'll just end it with fiddle-dee-doo!

---

BrianIs AtYou

[alondra]

Hi Brian

You make a good point here, metaphysically speaking, about our living and even dreaming in harmony, making an effort not to crush the dreams of our fellows as we pursue our own. Why does this physical world have to be so imperfect?

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

Thanks, alondra! It would be nice to have our dreams in harmony, as you put it!

More to come, but the opposite of dreams--a commentary on the real physical word.

BrianIs AtYou

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

XXVIII. Bluer Skies



After https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/...rs/3040063001/

Today I did not look up to the sky,
where Thunderbirds soar and Blue Angels fly.
My gaze instead was fixed upon the Earth,
and on my Mother dear who gave me birth.

This Bread and Circus showcase does not buy
relief of pain for those that soon will die.
It does not help relieve the fatal dearth
of masks and gloves, or anything of worth.

Real thunder would drown out the wretched lies
we're fed each day by fools in wisdom's guise.
True Angels would descend from bluer skies
to hear our pleas for aid, and for the prize

of life and health, of sanity and reason.
Damn bloviating fools in COVID season!

---

BrianIs AtYou

[larryrap]

Hi Brian, I caught up on a few and reread some older ones. You're such a natural - small and intimate, or large and cosmic, with the same generosity and light touch. I sometimes get into silent arguments with you on this or that opinion, but that's on me. There's a feeling of importance I get to your record of lives which surpasses the here-and-now, though I wouldn't know how to use it. Thanks for your belief us, even when we don't believe in ourselves.

[PClem]

Quick read through between my work cases.
Uncle Brian Airways was simply fabulous - esp. like S3, 5, 8
Xanadu - the whole thing is story telling at its finest.
Haiku for Susan is lovely as is the photo.
Triolet - very effective with the refrain on another day of pain.
A Little Verse cracked me up.
Dreams rings true.
Planning for Funeral rings so true. I remember my father planning his down to the last tiny detail.
Small Talk reminds me of a song by Willie Nile. I like the anti-metaphor of the weather.

[anita.a]

Sweet little poem here! I regret not reading you earlier, but better late than never... I love how you have been having two threads in one!!This side of the rainbow, Haiku for Susan, they know too well, are nicely done! Planning for the funeral is sad but true! Small talk reminded me of (the forever raining)Seattle where I lived for 9 years before moving to Texas!But the best so far,in my view is your heart warming Speaking to the Mother of Saint Luke ! Loved reading all your poems. We are almost done!!

XXIV. A Little Verse

I'd like to write a poem today,
but I can't find a thing to say.
I’ll need to get a rhyming nurse,
if things become a little verse.

BrianIs AtYou

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

larryrap, thanks for stopping in. It seems like we've come so far so fast.

Don't worry about "silent arguments". That is still a sign that the poem has reached you on some level to make you think. I take that as a compliment, and an opportunity to come together, even in seeming disagreement.

PClem, thanks for the read. Uncle Brian Airways seems like it needs to start scheduling flights. Thanks for the kudos on Xanadu. And thanks for the quick review of some of the formal pieces, Haiku, triolet, and the metrical bits. Planning for the Funeral was such an obvious poem for me, after Mom started going over things after the death of Uncle Ed.
I'll have to look up Willie Nie.

anita.a, thanks for the read and the regrets. I'm glad you liked the St. Luke piece. That is one of many ripped from real life.

More to come!

BrianIs AtYou

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

XXIX. A Poem in Black and White



I'd like to write a poem in black and white—
to write a poem in black and white for you.
For you I'd write this poem, if that's all right.
If that's all right, that what I'm gonna do.

I’m gonna do my best to spread the light—
The light of peace that says, “Love pulls us through!”
Love pulls us through the darkness of the night.
The darkness of the night is coming due.

Is “coming due” the fate we have to fight?
We have to fight as bills keep coming due.
As bills keep coming due, the checks we write
we write because there's nothing else to do.

There’s nothing else to do but fight the fight.
The fight is filmed in grainy black and white.

---

BrianIs AtYou

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

The Change



The New Utopia is fond of flowers and leaves.
Now that humans are gone, the damsel fly flits about freely,
for hours undisturbed, or else she sits on a green leaf in the sun.
No more will there be hikers coming through, with sticks swinging
and heavy bodies swaying back and forth,
swatting branches out of their clumsy way
and upsetting the gentle lilt of the leaves.
The damsel fly barely notices that her life will be short,
though that is the nature of things, and she is happy for her short span. 

The Queen Bee notices the change, too, and decrees free honey for the bears.
They’re less greedy than the humans, taking only what they need for themselves.
She gives the drones a reprieve as well, and allows them to live for another season.
The workers get time off between visits to the meadow,
and a special honeycomb lounge accommodates them on their breaks.

The daily hum around the pond is incessant, and the sun rises and sets
in brilliant reds and oranges, with a delicate blue at midday.
The mosquitoes buzz gleefully wherever the water slows and pools,
the stagnant water purified and free of petroleum and poison.
The eggs float well at the surface, not far above those of the frogs in the depths below.
The hatching larva swim with the tadpoles in clear water.
There’s plenty of wildlife for food and drink—the deer are everywhere—
and no flyer or swimmer or crawler has any need to take more than they need.
The frogs can be troublesome, but less so than the humans had been—
at least one has a sporting chance.

Strawberries send out their runners
not long after the red and dotted fruit drops to the ground.
The wild grapes swell in August, and the fox comes by.
Thinking of something clever to say, but unable to speak,
he laughs only to himself, then grabs a succulent bunch.
Apples ripen in the fall, unvarnished by pesticide.
Red and swelling, they fall to the ground,
where the yellow jackets feast on the rotting fruit,
leaving the core bare and open. The exposed seeds take root in spring.

Winter becomes a time for sleep, and spring a new awakening.
Another damsel fly emerges then, and alights on a green leaf—
her short happy life ahead of her—
and the leaves are still free to flit as the wind takes them.

---

BrianIs AtYou

[cookala]

finally got here! of the poems on this page -

Triolet - I think the subject fits the form perfectly here, and drives home the repetition and drudge of daily pain, which we all must deal with. the repetition also drives home the thought, to me, that where there is pain there is weariness as well.

Dreams- hmm. “To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there's the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come…” (Hamlet). nice little paraphrase in a poem

They Know Too Well – yes, we do! we’ve been there, done that. need we say more?

Planning for the Funeral, Season 20, Episode 37 – I hope I will be as accepting of my own death and remember also to plan for it – something few of us do unless we are battling a terminal illness and have the time to think about it in depth. this is a small snapshot that says an awful lot.

A Wandering (Wondering) Wordsmith – there’s some wonderful word play in this, and alliteration , imagery and sonics, too. it also has music to it, the word “minstrel” came to mind as I read and enjoyed. this stood out - The ticker is ticking—the tocker won't tock. nice!

Small Talk – “The changing weather likes to have its way” is an astute observation, and so very true. the title fits the poem really well, too.

Speaking to Mother of Saint Luke - this is such a sweet story. I really like this small snippet in time and peek into the lives of mother and N.

On Ashen Winds – “The future humans believe in us, even when
we do not believe in ourselves. There are flowers blooming in Hiroshima
in the far future. They tend them in the shadow of Genbaku Dome.
The wind blows cold ashes, and their children dance in the sun—“ now, that is one potent image. gives me the shivers and also hope at the same time. nicely done.

Pastichio Pistachio – this made me smile. some nice wordplay and a lively lilt makes this a winner. (I LOVE pastichio btw)

Bluer Skies – this is powerful and well put. (and I got a chance to see the jets fly by, it was very cool and I hope it helped to lift the spirits of the medical people and first responders who are really the soldiers in this war. God bless them!)

A Poem in Black and White – I like the flow of thought in this, and how each thought leads into the next.

The Change – I like the sentiment in this – and it’s a strong statement on how so many people take for granted that the earth will always support life, and how they are killing the earth through thoughtlessness and greed. and how nature, left alone to herself, balances everything. people need to learn this and start respecting the planet before it’s too late.

Brian, you’re doing really, really well this napo. and kudos to writing not one but two mostly long, thoughtful and pertinent poems a day.

[new leaf]

Brian, your meditations on loss, pain, and society are sharp and to the point. I'm sorry to hear that the loss became so real for you and yours. The Sevenling is a bittersweet portrait, of your parents, I'm guessing. The family inhabits so many of your pieces, warm and comforting, like the Uncle Brian airplane, the B/W fight, the funeral plans, the conversation with your mother on my favorite parable, the widow's mite.

Your kindness and loving spirit shine through it all, and your humor, along with your anger and impatience with hypocrisy.

The new Utopia is a strange place, but if it's more like The Change and less of an outpost in space, I think I could welcome it. You've offered us a doubls scoop of NaPo this year, delicious.