Yes, I'm still struggling to keep up. Although I'm relieved the end of April is near, the thought of posting a poem a day for a year is enticing me. We will see. For now, my poem for Day Twenty-Five is below.
THE DAY 25 PROMPT FOR PAD:
For today’s prompt, write a “last straw” poem. Everyone encounters situations in which they decide they’re not going to take it anymore (whatever “it” happens to be). It could be a loud noise, an abusive partner, someone taking the Pop Tart but not throwing the box away, or whatever. Write about the moment, the aftermath, or take an unexpected path to your poem.
|Don't Let Our Lights Go Out|
The Last Straw
up, fields have turned infertile,
and trampled farmers ride tireless
tractors under belching skies
displaying no vacancy signs refusing
factories a bed to release in,
when barns are barren having lost
the battle to shelter those
with no human tone,
and bales of hay have turned
to one last straw,
when a buck has no meaning, nothing left
to buy, who will know how to fix it all,
surrounded by stock-stilled world,
nature’s flow slaughtered in its sleep.
Take that straw and build a bed,
imprint dusty farmlands with footsteps’
treads, take in the ones with no say-so,
envision hope that we can end destruction
instead of murdering
our own reproduction.