WORDNEWS27

How Many Dead Bodies? is my adventure into dark poetry/satire, a reflection on the continuing waste of life across the globe.

How Many Dead Bodies Does It Take to Change a Light Bulb? – Dark Poetry

This is a joke. How many dead bodies does it take to 
change a lightbulb?
 
a trillion slain guerillas in the mid-end?
 a million extinct orangutans in the rain forest?
 a billion bony corpses in the desert?
 a gazillion cut-down kids on the moon?
 a zillion plastic-poisoned piranhas in the sea?
 a trillion dismembered family members flung across battlefields?
 a nonillion sacrificed soldiers marching on Mars?
 
Don't know the answer? Wait 'till I'll tell you.
 
None, 'cause dead bodies can't change lightbulbs.

The Solfeggios – Guido’s Children is a healing poem, a celebration of the powerful Solfeggio sound frequencies that can reach beyond pain and comprehension.

The Solfeggios – Guido’s Children

One thousand years ago, Guido fell into Paul’s hymn honouring John roaring in the desert. His breath stretched expanding lungs, arms rounding down deep to raise up six children for cover. Weaving wind and water, birds and thunder, fairies and heartbeats, Guido knotted a blanket to fan mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers from hot and cold, to mend bones, to dry blood, glue cuts, and to bind enemies. Now, Guido’s quilt carpets every fibre, his children scaling mountains high and rivers deep.

Healing Poem – The Solfeggios – Guido’s Children

Traditional poetry forms have given way to a wave of free verse, so it can take a while to find modern sonnets. This is my attempt a writing one.

Snow White’s Sonnet

I'm not inclined to do your work today
 would rather sip some wine and plan how I
 could go outside, trick dwarfs and steal away
 not toil and wash and clean and sing on high

 but walk through woods alone amazed by bloom
 would dance to tunes so sweet and talk to birds
 on how the world with all its doom and gloom
 still shines so bright in shades beyond my words
 
Not eat the apple Eve once dared to take
 not lay in wait for prince to kiss and wed
 but run and jump for joy that I could make
 my way in thunder, hail and snow, not dead
 
but fierce and strong, stomp forth in boots
 without a thought or care for knight or chutes.

As a Matter of Fact is a humanity poem, a reflection on prioritising people – you, me, him, her, us, them. Everyone is unique and important right now.

As a Matter of Fact

I matter.
You matter.
She matters.
He matters.
It matters.
We matter.
Ye all matter.
They matter.
No matter what

Perpetuum Mobile is a hope poem, a reflection on making the impossible possible, on powers beyond human imagination and thought.

Perpetuum Mobile

Crisp drawings of
 the Perpetuum Mobile,
 scoffed, snubbed, 
 adulated, apotheosized
 have the earth 
 break mould
 
and draw 
 the wheel's jointed arms and weighted hands
 in, then
 drop the freights
 to capture 
 more limbs and stones
 
purge
 drag
 bounce
 pull
 push
 tug
 
again
 and
 again
 and 
 into relentless
 rotation.
 
On the table,
 the Perpetuum Mobile
 as drawn by Leonardo da Vinci
 welds its work
 to the earth's revolution.
 and capers nonterminous motion