#PicturePoetryPrompt: Gun Control

From North of the border,
I watch my American friends
suffer time and again.
A vicious cycle repeating.

Bullets fired from GUNS
are worth more than
LIVES
I hear again and again.

And yet there’s a growing chorus
Of voices.
Young
Old
Female
Male
Gay
Straight
Black
White.

They scream for CONTROL
United against a bigger threat.
They don’t want to hide
Afraid and alone
from angry people who take their rage
like tidal waves
and crash into innocents.

They want change.
Not to take all the GUNS away
But to restrict the types
Create stiffer rules.
What threat is this
to your freedoms,
My GUN owning friends?

They should be free
to feel SAFE
In a Grocery store
In a School
At a Concert
At a Hospital
At a Synagogue
At a Church

ANYWHERE.

But the NRA has friends
who view CONTROL
as an evil worse than plague
WHICH IT’S NOT.
When did your fellow Americans’ LIVES
come to mean so little?

I see this on my screens
In our papers.
As a Canadian,
I’m thankful for our GUN CONTROL.
I feel SAFE.
If only the change Americans need
would come on swift wings.
I wish you all could feel SAFE
On every day’s journeys.

You see,
I think no man, woman or child
should be afraid to leave their home
for fear of flying bullets
shot from vicious GUNS
hunting them down.

Fire’s Vengeance

Gas covered the wood
Its smell filthy in the air
And yet it welcomed Fire.
Strike a match, sulfur’s touch,
Floated through the sky.
 
Flames grew, running
Through predetermined paths
Climbing the wooden trellis
Amidst the clematis screams.
 
Its violent touch
Melted all in its path.
Plastic
Metal
And
Memories.
 
Burned away the evil
Hidden in this
Trinket filled home.
 
Smoke blocked windows
Yet the sights were clearer.
 
Fire clambered up the stairs
Followed the smell of alcohol
Like
a
Bloodhound.
 
The drunken shouts
Were masculine
As his victims urged Fire on
Imagining its red tongue
Licking his ankles,
Shredding his face.
 
Suffocating on emptiness
The man met his demise.
House turned to coal with him.
 
Fire’s Embers waited for the words
Before departing.
 
“Good Job.”

Bow to No Man

My first priority

should be me.

But my shoulders carry

Lists done daily.

 

And it grows

Makes new lows.

But here I am

And I’ll be damned

If I fail.

I roar,

not wail.

 

Take care of him.

Cups filled to the brim.

Still, I push forward

For I’m no coward.

 

Fall now and then

But I get up again.

Check off my list

With clenched fist

And wear my smile.

 

I know it’s futile

To fight my role

For it’s in my soul.

And yet there’s apart

Of my beating heart

It says there’s more

Behind closed doors.

 

And now I say

I bow to no man.

That’s not my plan.