Country

The child found what looked like a toy
but when a way was found
to fulfill curiosity

found their friend
lying dead at their feet

guns are not the answer to feeling secure
left lying within the reach of
innocence

she was about her morning
preparing breakfast
on yet another Valentine’s Day

when she heard a gunshot
fill the air
and looking ’round

found her husband
of many years crumpled
in the doorway

dead…a gun in his hand

guns are not the answer to depression,
to problems seemingly
having no answer

Leaders of the world always disagreeing
make plans for larger armies
to carry more guns

to kill more people who are caught
in the cross hairs

guns are not the answer to solutions
for forcing others to agree
to another countries’ ideas

guns are not the path to peace

This is in response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday Writing Prompt. Read more responses at https://jamiededes.com/2017/11/01/dueling-with-words-to-stop-gun-violence-wednesdays-writing-prompt. The photo below was taken from Public Domain Pictures and digitally altered.

Path To Peace

The sun had risen high in the blue sky
over rolling hills of farm country
causing a dry heat much as the roiling
heat of the home of her childhood
produced in waves upon asphalt streets

she knew the howl of a siren near by in
the close distance as she sat visiting
with her son her terrier mix at her feet
and he saw her puzzled look asking why
to glean the meaning of that sound now

for she recalled a time years past
in the elementary school days now gone
the drills that came, of getting down
upon the floor to hide beneath her desk
with her hands upon her head to wait

but as the memory flashed upon her face
her son smiled to say the neighbor
who lives not far likes to hear the siren
wailing as it does for not a reason
but he hears it every afternoon of a day

so she smiles with him to recall those
drills of her youth and hoping as she did
that her desk might shield her from harm
for it might come with her eyes shut tight
the all clear was given & she breathed a sigh

This post is is response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday Prompt. You can see more of other poet’s responses at https://jamiededes.com/2017/07/12/at-the-dead-of-noon-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. I visited my son recently in the town of Ritzville which has a very small populace, a very large granary and railroad tracks running through town carrying all manner of things from lumber to oil to grain and much more. But the one thing that made me take note was the siren which someone sets to wailing every day. Brings back memories and for some of you it may spark your own and for others perhaps not but I hope you enjoy the read. The photo is of my son’s house which I have digitally altered for this post.

A Sound of Siren