Richard Grahn

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

dawn . . .
salat rises
from the ruins of Gaza
from the tents and shelters
in the city of Rafa.
here in the land
of missiles and bombs
today is the first day
of Ramadan.
nothing for suhoor
nothing for iftar
how can we fast
when we’re starving to death?
alms for the poor in short supply
aid trucks denied
while the world decides
if it’s self-defense
or genocide.
as I walk through rubble
of the past
through centuries of wars
creating more pain
than hate can imagine
I ask myself, if I’ll see the day
when peace breaches walls
of humanity’s fanatical brands of insanity,
when the call to evening prayers
is a message for all, regardless of faith,
that God cares for all
equally.

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois USA

My muse has seduced me again.

You’re the Writer.  You’re the only one who can write it.  It’s your responsibility to write it—your duty!

So, here I sit, fingers massaging keys that whisper letters and words—whispers spun into sentences, woven into paragraphs, loved into poems.

bearing gifts
for a barren hillside—
one sprouting seed
swaddled in sheets
of rain

By Richard Grahn

By Richard Grahn (Editor’s Contribution)
Evanston, Illinois, USA

the neverending TV screen
batters our brains with atrocities
conditions of pain and eternal strife
the knife of the tyrant’s bloody reign
we consume news without a fight
night after night in shock and awe
we sleep it off and return to the maw
of the daily grind
where we find ourselves miles
from the front
the battlelines drawn
so long ago
entrenched in our DNA
we cheer the forces of apocalypse
as if that could solve our complicity

from our State of Affairs
attention fixed
on the smoke and mirrors
we miss the fact
that we’re standing on a planet
our habits have battered and bruised
it doesn’t matter who wins the war
reset the board
move the pawns from dawn to dusk
we the pawns—sacrificed
on the altar of lust
lust for power and untold riches

do you see the hunger?
do you know the pain?
do you see the displaced?
feel the heat of the flames?
now comes the storm
the forest ablaze
the earth quakes
comes a tidal wave
dried up lakes
and melting glaciers
polluted streams
and rising seas

night has fallen on the carnage
of tomorrow
we’ve burned and hollowed
our legacy
does the world owe us
a second chance?
or maybe a third, or fourth, or fifth?
I lift my head from the mire
looking for answers
in the searching eyes
of a lost face
to share with them
this hallowed ground
to free us from this weight
this maelstrom
drowning hopes with hate

as the fog of war
surrounds us
hand-in-hand
let’s feel our way to the center of town
wake the neighbors
spread love around

what will break the despot’s will?
will it take a billion prayers?
how many faces to mend our wounds
projected on this earth?
when will this neglect end?
and when will we lay our weapons down
wrap our arms around each other
come together and defend the planet
share this tiny dot in space?

can the world ever become a welcome place
for every living creature?
it’s not a far-fetched notion
let’s stop this incomprehensible commotion
and pull the plug
on the idiot box rife with obnoxious news
choose a future solar bright
by changing the way we approach today
dawn always breaks the chains of night
light’s but a dream set free
in a world of possibility.

Editor’s Contribution
By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

i stand in a blossoming meadow
clover, poppy, and black-eyed Susan
ripples of fragrance soften the breeze
summer’s bouquet
dancing with the clouds
light-years away
from the horrors of war

i’m a simple child chasing butterflies
sun dazzling the world around
comes the buzz of a bee making honey
i’m up to my knees in a field of unknowns
imagination unfettered
but, oh, so ill-equipped
to see beyond the flowers

to see those far-off fields
trampled into blood
to envision men in 3-piece suits
playing chess in marble towers
the scribes rewriting history
bankers funding violence
all i see is violet and green

a ladybug lands on my shoulder
like me, another passerby
young men die and mothers weep
my mind wanders
through knee-deep flora
jungles swallow a generation
what do i know of capitulation?

here in the meadow
of dancing petals
storm clouds roll in
i’m soaked to the roots
under rumbling thunder
firmament and earth
in a torrid embrace

oblivious to the fires of Hell
stoked with lives gone up in smoke
barely aware of my footprints
i stare through the downpour
rivulets coursing over my eyes
i’m in tune with nature’s philosophy
evil obscured behind a veil of rain

a crack in the heavens appears
the tempest subsides
wind whispers to the earth and me
as flowers bow their heads in prayer
here where the sky and meadow meet
clouds wave their flag of peace
a rainbow over blossoms.

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

Spaceman, always looking up, a compass with no needle, lost it shooting up.
Always shy a half-a-moon, he’s off to Heaven to file a complaint—

too many burned-out stars, more every day; 
got to get to Heaven . . . make a few changes. 

soup kitchen steps
for a pillow
his last night on Earth

~

Failed Haiku Issue 86

by Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

fields of cotton . . .
we sing “Amazing Grace”
with the larks

Pine shadows rest on the flowering dogwood. Steadfast, we’ve marched to this place. The Southern Cross and Old Glory wave—colors of this April day. Soon the sky will turn to smoke and spider lilies will weep. Rows of soldiers stand in the oaks as we kneel near the Poison Spring. A cloud obscures the sun and I hear the battle cry. The air swells thick with blood. Recalling their chains, I pull the trigger.

wasps
in the beehive—
family feud

Once, twice, they charge, then scurry back to their holes. Hurrah! The eagle soars.

But songs of the master’s whip haunt this battlefield. As ghostly boots breach lines in the sand, I lay my weapons at my feet and raise my hands toward Heaven. I came today to stand, but he can’t bear to see me rise. Pummeled to the earth, I crawl into my past. Above me looms the victor, proud as rough-hewn stone. He sees only my skin, dark as his coal-black eyes. Sharp enough to pierce my heart, his blade too blunt to scar my soul. I gaze at him standing over me—a bolt of lightning ready to strike. The wind caresses my hair. My final breath escapes into the breeze.

All across the field, pollen spills from blossoms.

beyond Jordan
so far from my bones—
milk and honey

Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

Energy.gov lists the following resources as the primary sources of energy on Earth:

Nuclear energy, fossil energy (oil, coal and natural gas), and renewable energy (wind, solar, geothermal and hydropower).

The following are listed as clean energy (solar, wind, water, geothermal, biomass and nuclear). (I have to beg the difference where nuclear is concerned because spent fuel rods need to be stored somewhere and whenever a power plant has a disaster, the surrounding area becomes a toxic wasteland.

It’s also interesting that the fact that fossil fuels are “dirty” is conveniently omitted.

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

“I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity.” Dwight D. Eisenhower.

I will add that war is distracting humanity from solving the real problems we face on this planet as a species. It is the antithesis of collaboration, something we desperately need in order to be able to share this planet in a sustainable fashion.

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

As the world’s superpowers flash their muscles, the following, chilling thought comes to mind . . .”The prospect for the human race is sombre beyond all precedent. Mankind are faced with a clear-cut alternative: either we shall all perish, or we shall have to acquire some slight degree of common sense. “Bertrand Russell, “The Bomb and Civilization” (1945)

https://web.archive.org/web/20200807144106/http://www.personal.kent.edu/~rmuhamma/Philosophy/RBwritings/bombCivilization.htm

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

Martin Luther King Jr.
“I have a dream” speech, August 1963

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

According to the World Food Program, ~783 million people in the world are hungry. Of those, 333 million face severe hunger and 47 million are on the brink of famine or worse. We live on a planet with finite resources. As the world population swells to over 8 billion, now more than ever, the human trait of compassion is needed. Not something easily reproduced by a machine.

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

empty parking lot—
a breath of foggy air
frosts my glasses

Today marks the first of this year’s snow. It’s been frigid enough the past week for crystals to accumulate. But autumn blankets the snow with its trademark flare—leaves falling so fast, it’s hardly a fair contest.

A child shakes her snow globe . . . 

The where-I-stand-now erupts with a gale-force howl, snow and leaves rise from the pavement in painted pirouettes—here-to-there-to-here. I lean into the flurry—face frozen—this moving picture spinning me in a dance between the seasons . . .

But, quickly as the howl arises, the child falls fast asleep, her miniature world resting on the pillow beside her. In the where-I-stand-now, sky and trees resume their ways—snow and leaves drifting down, painting Earth another shade of dream.

open music box
the crunch of boots dancing
around the globe

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

I know there are stars; I have seen them at night. I have floated among them my entire life. They seem far away in these city lights. But inspired, I am, by the way they gleam. The slightest star in the dimmest dream ignites my beacon for all to see.

aurora sky . . .
the flickering treetops
of my childhood

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

Per the National Museum of Natural History, recent studies estimate that there are about 8 million species on planet earth of which about 15,000 are currently threatened with extinction. Scientist generally agree that the rate of extinctions today is many times higher than the natural extinction rate. Pollution and habitat disruptions are just two factors in this reality.

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

We really do need to be vocal about the things that matter to the future of this planet. Silence is no longer a viable path forward. Inaction is no longer tolerable. It’s time to wake up, roll out of the proverbial bed, and rouse the neighbors.

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

Antartica is dripping into the sea. The world’s largest glaciers are melting at an alarming rate. We live on an evolving planet. It’s reacting to us. The question is, what are we going to do about it?

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

Pollinator populations are declining because of habitat loss, disruptions in nesting and breeding sites due to construction, pesticides, and other factors such as climate change and pollution. These insects play a crucial role in the propagation of crops and other flora. Without them, the world would be a hungry place, indeed.

By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA

Despite all the doom and gloom in the planetary forecast, I like to believe there is hope the human race will see that violence and greed are detrimental to its survival and that cooperation is the only sustainable path forward.