Jim Ross
Gaia and the Warlord
Only she and the moon could know
the graveyard of his mind
fraught with nameless terrors
and thoughts of the killing kind
a tyranny of errors
and insects fighting among themselves
in a power-hungry famine
frightfully unwell.
She saw his false smile
ashen-grey face
talked in defiance
of his fascist ways
and she refused to eat
at his cold banquet
of sold-out theories
and old salad.
When she took off her gloves
from under her fingernails
stardust of love fell
through the haze.
She’d completely lost all of her appetite
wanted to believe and so she thought
that he’d a good heart inside;
his filthy hands smeared brown bread
with the screaming children’s’ cries
still she sat down at his table
though the dream of peace was denied.
When she took off her gloves
from under her fingernails
stardust of love fell
and caused him to faint.
He shook and she thought that his heart of blame
could be made from steel or rock still beat again
so she cocooned him in the raw silk of her soul
until moonlight faded into a dawn of gold.
But in the new day, oh he was still dark as night
so she left him in his graveyard
went home to her starlight tribe
and they all restored a garden to bountiful delight
the warlord kept rambling and doubting his own mind.
Ireland’s lush, vibrant, countryside is balm to Kathryn Crowley, whose eco social writing records her own experiences and pays homage to nature. Pondering the human condition and sociological research merge in her short stories and poems. Read more at www.ArtyShe.com. Kathryn’s new Twitter account is @KCtweeting.
Jim Ross jumped into creative pursuits in 2015 after rewarding research career. With a graduate degree from Howard University, in seven years he’s published nonfiction, fiction, poetry, photography, hybrid, and plays in over 175 journals on five continents. Photo publications include Barren, Burningword, Camas, DASH, Kestrel, Litro, Feral, Stonecoast, Sweet, and Typehouse. Jim and his wife split time between city and mountains.