As an observer I watch as prices in the supermarket rise without notice from the media, see the young people search for jobs, one turned away after another. Seniors shop one meal at a time, skimp on prescriptions, watch the young mothers walking kids hoping for a better place, see the abandoned factories, empty strip centers and emergency wards full of people who can’t afford a doctors visit. It is the stark reality of the great recession felt by the people everyday as the politicians in Washington play fiddles.
HOW HAS THE GREAT RECESSION AFFECTED YOUR POETRY? / PLEASE SHARE A POEM(S) ADDRESSING YOUR GREAT RECESSION EXPERIENCE:
Dissipation
Empty sidewalks, broken alley lights
Grates, bars, locks, empty places
16 year old mothers, missing fathers
Churches of darkened windows
Under EL screech, slide, rhythm of trains
Faces of working girls, addicts, dirty faces
Of children with no where to go, of
Jobless whose hope dissipated long ago
Limestone stalactites drip from rusty
Under grade bridges, remnants of cars
Line the curb, shadows omnipresent
Rescue not an option in this place of
Invisible walls.
Something Wrong Here?
smoke stacks
water towers
in sky scape
antennas and dishes
bracketed to
old brick, aged metal
smoke doesn’t flow
from stacks
water doesn’t drain
from towers
factories, warehouses
long gone
they stand
to transmit signals
far and wide
while on ground level
quiet abounds
only ghosts travel
inside windowless buildings
that once were
America.
Recession*
The dog walkers who met at
the pavilion are no longer
here. Ducks are looking
thinner, breadcrumbs do not
fall to the ground.
Birds peck in search
of insects or a worm, fishermen
drop lines for trout that don’t
bite.
The night is quiet, the cicadas have gone.
Humidity is low, hum of air conditioners
no longer fills the air. Thunderstorm
passes leaving quiet behind, that dead
quiet in the middle of a storm, yet
it has passed.
Young mothers watch the old folks
purchase one meal at a time, learning
how it is done. Few purchase bottled
water anymore, the tap is just fine. There
are no lines at the pharmacy. Pork roll,
spam, hot dogs are in demand.
*(From the collection, Carvings)
ABOUT THE POET:
g emil reutter lives and writes in the Fox Chase neighborhood of Philadelphia, Pa. He founded The Fox Chase Review and The Fox Chase Reading Series in 2007. You can visit him at www.gemilreutter-author.com
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1 comment:
Thought provoking. Thank you.
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