Friday, February 23, 2018

The Gunman by Angela Lansbury - a synchronicity poem of karma



The Gunman

By Angela Lansbury

The tried to stop his evil thoughts
Make him recall the good they taught
But no

They called police, then his mother
She was dead. They called his brother
But no

Call his college! - it's in lockdown
They sent marksmen all over town
No luck

They called the nurse, they called a psych
They found crashed cars, a broken bike
He'd gone

They grabbed his phone, found what he said
They were appalled by what he said
The threat

His girlfriend now says she's his ex
She's terrified that she'll be next
Not yet

The windows shut, the doors are barred
What will he do? To guess not hard
Oh no!

They blamed it on his mental health
Thank God he only killed himself
He's dead.
-ends-
Copyright Angela Lansbury 2018 Feb 24

Synchcronicity is a term invented by Carl Young. From the root word chronos, clock or time. Two events synchronize or occur at the same time. Not necessarily cause and effect but appear to have something in common. Chance. 

Also see good lucky, karma, and yanfen.

(Synchronized swimming means swimmers swimming together, like a dance. They might not be swimming together but towards each other or away from each or around in a circle in a co-ordinated way.)

The pattern of each verse echoes the previous one.
The third line has two syllables. The drama.

Coming back to this poem after a year, I am puzzled where to find the synchronicity. 

The drama is the danger. The gunman is about to kill someone. Who will it be?

In the end, he succeeds. However, the danger is over. The good news that the man killed is the killer. The assailant and victim are the same person. Irony. Twist.

Useful Websites
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yuanfen

About the Author

Friday, February 16, 2018

Better Bird Song



Somebody took a wonderful video of a bird singing and put it on facebook. They asked what the bird was singing. The RSPB has a disc of birds singing. They have three types of calls. The gentle, repetitive, yeaa, yah, it's okay, it's a lovely day to today and this is my territory song. The elaborate aria, come on darling, song, like a coloratura solo piece in an opera. and scree-eeching, sharp repeating warning - Help! Danger! Run! Fly! screeching song.

Obviously the bird is singing various similar things. It said, 

BETTER BIRD SONG
'Hello, what a sunny day, 
Come along and sing and play, 
Plenty of room on my firm branch, 
I'm here, my dear, not far away. 

'Are any pretty birds out there! 
I sing the best in our tree tops. 
Those other birds are, frankly, flops. 
Are any pretty birds out there!

' What was the next trill of that song?
I don't know - start another one: 
Up here, bad cats - we're out of reach
So many tricks we both can teach

'Come and join me, top of my tree, 
The view is new, changing and free
I love sunny, clear view weather!
Here let's build a nest together, 

Come on and join me, on my tree
Come along, be strong, sing with me

"Humans - what are you looking at, I'm not calling you humans, big wingless birds just birds like me, unless, of course, you've got sandwiches and birdseed, no, never mind, back to work
'Hello, any pretty birds out there ...' 
I didn't catch the last bit. Irene's probably right.Thank you for the inspiration.

***
Author
Angela Lansbury
Copyright 2018 Feb 16

Thursday, February 15, 2018

Funny Flowers In The Snow



It's sunny, then it's snowing
I see new flowers in the snow
The weather has confused them
I wonder if the dumb things know

They're silly, but they're pretty -
Now the sun's come out again!
I suppose they had a nice drink
From this morning's dismal rain

The whole world is a cemetery
The dinosaurs are turned to stone
But we've got cute little plastic ones
To please keen kids in every home

The pharaohs left a lot behind
Dead bodies wrapped in gold
Paintings on floors and ceilings
Great, cursed wonders to behold

The Romans with their weapons
Left their helmets, walls, old stones
Left their language, their heritage
Their glory, gravestones, meatless bones

Scary Vikings under London's buildings
Plague victims under passing trains
Madame Tussaud's, pop stars and horror
Some things best not seen again

Yes, the whole world's a cemetery
Great-grandparents buried underground
Just as well, they wouldn't like it
With our neighbour's loud jazz sounds

After my life's rollercoaster
I don't want to leave you tears
Better some jokes and laughter
To help you struggle through your muddled years

Yes, the whole world is a cemetery
Know we're all built on crumbled past
As we've been taught, life is too short
Most things, thank God, do not last

Shut your eyes, in prisons, hospitals
So in your last dark hours
In your mind paint pretty pictures
Of the stupid, happy flowers

Be mindful, in the present
Watch where you leap, step, go
But when in doubt, remember
Daft, sweet flowers in the snow.

copyright Angela Lansbury Feb 15 2018