Poetry Tuesday #2 – New

When you parse the science, it seems crazy that we’re carrying on like everything is fine, while life, as we know it, is hurtling towards an unceremonious end, Eliotesque, not with a bang, but with a whimper. It seems crazy that we’re reading Eliot. It seems crazy that we’re writing poetry.

trees and rhinos, bees and
kelp, waves and puffins –
how do they describe us to their young?

The prompt today is “New” – whatever strikes you as timely, relevant, in your face, here and now. Share your poems, old or new,  using the Mister Linky widget. Or just stop by and say hello in the comments section.



And when nature became a vengeful beast, a
monster unleashed, and every love poem became
a nostalgic ache for a time when the sea was a
troubadour on the street corner, crooning soft
ballads, the sky was the cloth around his hips,
and the moon was a pin on her shoulder, holding
the edge of her saree –

I remember when we caught the first mouse at
home, my mother setting an ugly wooden trap, a
piece of stale copra, the lure for some wretched
creature that would in the morning, half-crazed 
with fear, its tail twitching outside its cage, realize
primal hunger had turned into modern sin. I don’t
know what happened to that first mouse –

She didn’t tell me. I never thought to ask. I was
seven. Now the earth shudders and I wonder 
what will kill me first – the congenital desire, the 
rotting coconut, the rusty hook, the proud woman, 
the indifferent man, the interminable morning or
inveterate hunger –

In the distance, cold clouds find new syntax for a 
familiar dirge.

32 thoughts on “Poetry Tuesday #2 – New

  1. How I resonated with this as I too had the horror of dealing with half dead mice in traps and the squalor of near poverty. Luckily we learn from this and really appreciate our lives now.


  2. We are in late November and still in the mid 70’s. We had a heatwave a couple of weeks ago and were in the 80’s–Everything will parch and die here maybe before I do–I am frightened–how can we not pay attention to this??


    1. The climate is changing everywhere, isn’t it – becoming more and more unpredictable and intense. I’d say the inattention is deliberate, the science is quite clear.


  3. I think we as a species need to remember that we are the same as the mouse on this earth – no different as projections of the universe.


  4. The changes storming through nature at the moment are nearly as startling as the indifference so many people show towards all the death and devastation. One can only hope that more humans will start reacting like the adult version of your speaker. Not the terrified part, of course, but the part that speaks with eyes open.


    1. It is pretty startling and rapidly evolving while the biggest carbon producers seemingly do nothing. Perhaps we are in a mousetrap of our own making and there is really no pleasant way out.


  5. Nature as a vengeful beast makes sense keeping in mind the current state of the world. A gorgeously potent write, Rajani ❤️


  6. Well, the Aussie witches have been doing rain magic – with the proviso that it not lead to flooding instead – but that may be only a bandaid. The winds around the pole no longer spiral as far as they once did, which means rain falls on ocean instead of land. It will take governments as well as witchcraft! And they – fools! – are less willing. Besides, so late….

    Meanwhile, I may have subverted the prompt with my idea of ‘new’. 😀


  7. Well, nature is taking revenge on Oz at the moment and seems intent on burning the place down.As for mice….the Australian native country mouse is a genius and can actually remove bait without setting off trapsl I am making it my life’s work to outwit it with dastardly plans:)


    1. I have friends in the Sydney area and I hope they and all people affected are safe. Let’s hope it rains and rains hard. As for that clever little Aussie mouse… !!!!!!! 🙂 Thanks so much for sharing at Poetry Tuesday, Rall!


  8. I wouldn’t blame nature for becoming a vengeful beast, Rajani – the shuddering earth is just a warning, I think – and I would love to go back to a time when ‘the sea was a troubadour on the street corner, crooning soft ballads’ – gorgeous personification. I felt for the mouse in the trap, realizing ‘primal hunger had turned into modern sin’.


  9. Yes, your poem reminds me of the waste land … with an addition of a beast compared to a mother (or to a mouse). And the last image knocked my socks off. I’ll be back with something tomorrow. Maybe a new mouse trap to capture the conscience of a king.


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