Today marks Poetry for Strangers’ 300th poem! Thank you, dear readers, both for reading and for your notes of appreciation over the years. This poem is part two from last week’s poem. Jacob was the producer of the youtube interview with Sohail. He has moved from LA, where he owns a production company, to Boise, where he runs Co-op Creative.
The Stranger: Jacob
The Word: Cooperative
The poem I wrote:
In this valley the dead come out to sing if we make
the exact music they remember, a cooperative song,
soft and confounding. One stops singing, stares at us
like we’re a ghost; she is all cheekbones and ash, she
says, Not now, but in middle school, when it mattered,
when peace bit at us like a mosquito and we slapped
it away, to think of the trouble I would have had if I
had been beautiful.
The Challenge: Do you have a poem in you on this word? Write one here.
June 21, 2019 at 8:21 am
Skyward
I am cooperative, he says,
as long as we do what I want.
My mouth opens
to say that’s not the same
but he’s off to the moon
and holds out a hand–
who could say no
to a trip like that?
June 22, 2019 at 4:28 am
Learning to Surrender
I’ve been so large … I couldn’t see
the end of me,
melting into pasture land.
I felt damp breath,
and matched breath rhythms
until we slept and dreamt a shared life.
I became so small… I couldn’t see
the self of me,
carried off by black ants,
cooperative in their gentle grip
as I disappeared among them,
leaving only
pasture and breath.
June 22, 2019 at 10:20 am
Fool Me Once…Fool Me Four Times…
I’m not feeling very cooperative.
I’ll not hear you crying “wolf.”
Extraordinary claims with dire consequence
Must be verified beyond reproof.
Drums of war are beating,
Swords snick as they’re unsheathed,
Onward! Calls for Christian Soldiers,
Hawks are crying for belief.
Who was it said in an old anthem?
“We won’t get fooled, again.”
Too bad we failed at our lessons,
In war, no glory, only pain.
We have a problem with our memory.
Too soon war seems like an answer.
And we forget that tragic suffering
Should be avoided like a cancer.
Those who beat the drums and rattle sabers
Are not the ones who have to pay.
They award themselves accolades
As they do their banking on payday.
War is good for arms dealers
And makers of prosthetic legs.
The warmongers toast with fine liquors
While their dupes do with bitter dregs.
I say let us fight them here,
When and if our foes arrive.
Meanwhile, let women and their children,
Live in peace. Allow them to survive.
Remember the Maine, the Gulf of Tonkin
The WMD’s they knew just where to find?
Let us not be fooled again.
How can we stand to be so blind?
Let us not fall once more
For deceptions and deceits.
The arrogance of hawk aggressors
Must be exposed as their conceit.
The time must be right now
Before going down that trail
We must insist on Peace
Before another fail.