Returning as a baggaged castaway
from a far off desert scene,
I caught the scent of rotten fish,
the smell of seafood turning green.
I put on my flip flops anyway,
poured a Mia Tia tall glass cooler.
Trying to a pull a stolen day off,
a semi-adult Farris Buller.
Booting up the old cpu
I deemed to catch up 30 days events.
Then clicking the trusty search engine Bing,
To my favorite site ReadWritePoem I went.
You know, there are times when
the cosmos conspires an orgy of death,
when things pass from living,
without the slightest notice of bequeath.
Like a sparrow snatched with an unseen hand,
taken from the tranquility of life.
Or an arm lost during a pentathol dream
to a surgeons saw and stainless steel knife.
ReadWritePoem.com had inflicted a wound
the worse franchise taken of a poet,
a goodbye, so long, adios, we quit,
I felt as others must; I was the last to know it.
So much given and so much taken,
the lines read in a burning red haze.
The joy of answering the weekly prompt,
repartee with fellow poets..gone, I was dazed.
Disappointed, dejected, “damn it all”,
I thought with a squinty demonic eye.
So I sent off an email to RWP’s Deb Scott
with the questions what happened and why?
Was there trouble at the rancho?
Had all the lettuce pickers deserted the farm?
Had moldering literary hay caught fire?
Had the poet animals died in the RWP barn?
Were Oregon and Washington States
finally separated from the US of A,
as geology fault line prognosticators tell us
will happen some bright unsuspecting day?
No, none of that was the plaintive reply.
What is, is because that’s the way it must be.
It had run its course and sacked the strength
from all the admins of our dauntless RWP.
Then she made a suggestion of a place to go
where I might find comfort in my misery.
A place where like minded suffers wash ashore,
poem starved in tank tops, bikini bottoms and tees.
The site is http://writersisland.wordpress.com
isolated in the sea of the cyber internet.
A tropical paradise for wordsmiths to beach,
inviting to newcomers and those you have met.
Okay, now that I’m there I feel better
recognizing each former RWP member in the surf.
There’s Barbara, Deb, Andy and Angie,
Julie, Irene, and bearded Rob smiling with mirth.
I like it….hey Pamela and Marianne
and all you guys with names and no face.
Let’s pour another Mia Tia and toast ’cause
here’s Carolee with tat in a most interesting place.
Yes it is like old times once again
although most of the RWP gang are not here.
I guess we’ll just have to do the best we can do
and see if Writer’s Island makes it this year.
Copyright: 2010, “I wouldn’t claim this with your name.”