Write On Site 2016
"I Know What The Mud-Man Feels" By Rosemary O'Keefe
"Response to Virginia Overton" By Matt Sorgie
"Drift" By Nuala Alvord
Nine little pools,
peaceful and sedentary
with nothing to disturb them,
no one to move them,
no one to interact with their
inanimate lives.
Nine little pools
dappled and gray
from ever-still water.
Nine little pools.
Nine big dreams
when the moon’s reflection
appears on their shining surface.
Their minds
drift
drift
drift
into a world of
big
big
BIG
dreams....
The first pool (the largest) dreamed
that he was a single drop of water,
floating in an empty world and
enjoying being small for once.
The second pool dreamed that he was a puddle,
slowly collecting rain
as children stomped through him,
giggling.
The third one dreamed that
she was a stream,
flowing pleasantly
through a forest and watching
as trees reached high above her.
The fourth pool dreamed that he was a river,
spraying fresh water
against rocks
that choked the gap
between mountains.
The fifth dreamed that she was a stormcloud,
rain poured down from her and
sprayed the grass below lightly
with morning dew.
The sixth dreamed that
he was a pond,
lily pads and dragonflies
filled his swampy mass.
The seventh pool dreamed
that he was a lake,
children splashed and played with joy
on his shores.
The eighth pool dreamed that he was a sea,
watching the two huge masses of land on his either side
and feeling his waves hit rocky
clusters piled around
him.
Finally, the ninth pool (the smallest) dreamed
that she was an enormous ocean,
her waves crashed and sprayed salty water into the sky
and seagulls screeched above sailboats that bobbed across her.
Soon, when the moon had
disappeared from their motionless water,
The pools’ minds began to
drift
drift
drift
into a world of
big
big
BIG
dreams....
The next morning they continued their
everyday routine, talking and telling each other stories.
And even though they might have just been
nine little pools on the wooden floor of a museum,
and the moon was simply a lightbulb above,
their dreams stayed real, even if they were tiny drops of water or
an enormous ocean.
"Past, Present, Future" By Nicholas Dillon
The Past, where nature thrives,
Free from the chains of humankind
Living whole and complete
Knowing no bounds
Free to flourish in the rising sun
Colorful figures in the crisp, blue sky
Always growing, ever-changing
Free to bloom and be truly alive
The Past, where humankind dies,
Trapped by nature's restrictions
Living like primitive savages
With no direction or plans
It has the tools, just not the brains
Nature’s child, it lives in despair
Living not by its own rules and creations
But by those of another being
The Present, where nature is prisoner
Used by its child, humankind, to its advantage
Now nature is trapped by it human offspring,
The restraints and shackles know no bounds
Nature's fate is controlled by the will of humans
Imprisoned and confined, nature is trapped forever
Unable to flourish like the days of old
Used and disposed of by its own creation.
The Present, where humankind thrives,
Free from its shackles of nature
It now uses the tools given to it to control nature
To imprison nature and use it for itself
Humankind’s greed and lust know no bounds
Controlling all that it sees
It depends on nature, but destroys it all the same
Not aware of the destruction it brings upon itself
The Future, where nature all but dies
Held completely captive by the human world
Blinded in chains with no room to grow or breathe
Nature is a slave, destined to support humanity
But gaining nothing in return
Nature grows no more,
Disposed of until all of nature is gone
With humans not knowing or caring what will happen after
The Future, where humankind is all that there is
Disposing of all nature once they are done with it
It is all removed to make way for the cities
Towns of gold and gears
Nothing replanted, it’d just get in the way
It is all destroyed forever to make room
For more pointless buildings that only take up space
Humanity kills itself through its ignorance of nature
And all it provides
Killing itself slowly but surely
Ignoring its eventual demise
Living to stay in the now, because the future’s for somebody else
Why should they care if they can forget it all
In their fake world of ignorance?