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Archive for March, 2017

Disappointed



Holy Crap
He said about the limits to growth,
Or was it the sustainability of resoures
Or lack of good governance
It might have been about
Weapons of mass destruction
Was it about the solution to the Palestinian problem?
I don’t remember now, but it 
Ended in a sigh.
But not of relief.
But of disapointment,
Staggering disappointment
Is this the best that we can do with this great country?
From the oceans, to the prairies,
With highways, and the byways, 
electric lines, telecommunications intact, good plumbing
Feely available food supplies, unlimited gasoline, volumes of natural gas,
Apples on trees, peaches on the ground, tomatoes drifting through the gardens, 
Wading through aisles of dog food, cat food, bird food, guppy food, hamster food, Cocatoo cages,
Sleeping pills, plastic aluminum, folded wrapped artificial food for babies.
Deeply disappointed,
Sorry to see it go,
Watching it fade away,
Tormented by silly commentary, 
upright slick characters. 

Poem by Mary Chamie.  

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Scarcely a day has gone by 
That
I do not think of you.
You are my rock of ages, my story, my history, 
my undocumented past, 
My imagined future.  
My one and only
There will never be another one of you, or us.
I know that we are once upon a time and not forever. 
We wonder who will leave first, who will be left behind.
Just in case it is I who goes first, I leave you this celebratory not-so-specific
funny sad happy wistful loving
note of times past and present, contemplating
lost dreams of the future.
The future will celebrate itself without me.
Just in case it is I who remain, I leave this note of times past and present, future
To remember that scarcely a day has gone by that 
I do not think of you.

Poem and painting by Mary Chamie.

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Coincidental

It is not coincidental that I find you in my living room.
I invited you in, just this once.
It is not a mistake that we do not argue.
It is a fact 
because we do not speak.
It is not a terrible thing to be bothered by you.
It is simply inconvenient, 
this morning, tomorrow, yesterday.
I forgot why you are here.
Who said you could enter?
It is time for you to go away 
today, tomorrow, forever.
Find somewhere else to peddle your wares.
This silence is not coincidental.
I respect that
 you are gone and 
tell no one that you left.
We lost each other long ago.
Poem and painting by Mary Chamie.

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