Tsunami Poem by Rochelle Hope Mehr

Tsunami

When to look, arms outstretched and free
At the receding and beckoning arms of the sea.
When to foam at the mouth
As the meters increase,
As the dry land opens up vistas between you and me.
When to flee
Before the wall of waves lashes its fury,
While you stand there dumbstruck
By its come-hither look.
By its treachery.
Miles and miles away, the earth shook.
The waves roiled
In the doomsday book.
But all you saw was a placid sea.

***

From the Cradle Poem by Rochelle Hope Mehr

From the Cradle

At some point every child wonders if he or she is adopted.
Those two strange creatures hovering so high above you,
Their conniving ways disgorging the sputum of your innocent
indifference.
What are they to each other?
What are they to you?

He says you’ve both got the same crooked finger on the right hand.
You must be his kid.
He’s always calling you by her name when he gets angry at you.
What of it?

She tries to protect you from him.
Shelter you under her wing.
From there you can hear her heart aflutter.
But she can’t hear you.
She knows what is best for you.
Exactly what you want and need.
Will even dip her head down to ask you
But then do exactly the opposite of what you say.
You’re too much a part of her —
Squiggling under her wing.

They both see you as her underling
And fight their battles.
Sometimes you are roused from your slumber
By their grousing and peep.
They drag you out to mediate.
It isn’t easy playing King Solomon.
Not for a little pipsqueak.

Rochelle Hope Mehr
[email protected]
***

White Wall Poem by Rochelle Hope Mehr

White Wall

White wall blocking my way.
Traffic cop shoving hand in my face.
Retreat.
Take seat.
Pinpricks up my ass.
Like junior high fiends
Thumbtacking the seats.
We had to learn to look
Before sitting.
Always wary.
Always watching.
Always knowing someone’s out to get you.
Stand up, take stand.
White wall in my face.
Nothing up ahead.
Pinpricks waiting behind.
Not so cushy
For my tushy.

Rochelle Hope Mehr
[email protected]
***

Current Events Poem by Rochelle Hope Mehr

Current Events

The reality of imagination;
Its primacy in our lives.
The latest roadside bombing
Soon goes in the archives.

We focus on the glamour;
The veneer above the base.
What tension in the tenuous
Rivets us to the chase.

Rochelle Hope Mehr
[email protected]

***