Charred Landscape
A jumble of buildings squatted some distance away, dark and low
What used to be a harvest moon
Rises in the background
History no longer remembers this place.
A cracked highway, weed-choked and crumbling
Traces the exit of humanity’s footprint
Leaving nothing else behind except
A jumble of buildings squatted some distance away, dark and low.
No one thought they’d ever “drop the bomb”
But someone pushed the button
Leaving neutron-burned scavengers behind to howl at
What used to be a harvest moon.
Night folds into day
Though the two are hardly distinguishable
Except for the pale blue sun which, each morning
Rises in the background.
Decades later
And lightyears away
Someone sees a brilliant flash —
History no longer remembers this place.
EDITOR’S NOTE: The poem Charred Landscape was selected from entries submitted to our Creative Challenge Series #1: First Sentences, which required that the first sentence in the text must be used as given.
Unhitched
As Marilyn stretched
Seagulls drifted overhead
Flat tire stalls wedding
EDITOR’S NOTE: The haiku Unhitched was selected from entries submitted to our Creative Challenge Series #2: Word Salad, which required that the words bolded in the text must be included.
Heartland Heartbeat
Tractors, cultivators, plows, and combines
chug across dirt fields
in the heartland of America
turning seed into plant
plant into grain
grain sold to make food.
Sunrise reflected in dew-laden crops
dust hangs in windless afternoons
hot nights threaten thunderstorms
cycle repeated
acre after acre
day after day
New farm loans become sparse
water shares dry up
bank owned equipment
sits rusty in unplowed fields
the heartbeat of America now
a grinding noise, metal on metal, intermittent.
EDITOR’S NOTE: The poem Heartland Heartbeat was selected from entries submitted to our Creative Challenge Series #3: Last Sentences, which required that the last sentence in the text must be used as given.
