A short poem about Gaia being angry.

Since I decided to try to get off of the diazepam at the end of 2017 I have not been up to writing much.

I have not been up to concentrating to write very much of anything for years and, however hard I tried, I simply couldn’t concentrate long enough while lying down to finish anything of any worth.
I have dozens of notebooks full of ideas that will remain unwritten. It makes me sad.

In 2016 I wrote a few short poems and last week I managed one extra.

April 2020:

On Hold

Today the sun shines

And the roads are quiet.

The planes sit heavy on the ground,

The air is clear and sweet.

Except...

There are no children playing in the street.

And dogs are growing wild at windows.

The shop girl’s hands are weapons.

I watch the apple pass from hers to mine

And place it in my bag like a grenade.

As nature goes about her work.

The world is holding its breath.

I will post the others separately.