On Characters and Identity

Poetry, Unintended Poetry

An Unintended Poem


with how the face of society
is changing

more tolerant
breaking gender personality attributions

it may become essential
to make characters
more fluid
in the overall

exceptions will exist

but more and more

people are embracing
just being

 

Words by Anike Kirsten, Formatting by Jasmine Arch.

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Seen Horrors of War

Poetry


This is a poem about war, and the horrors and casualties resulting from it. One inspired by the melody of the song Sarajevo by Savatage—telling of perspectives and critique around the Bosnian War with their album Dead Winter Dead—and written for a rhyme contest of the Steem blockchain.

“Syria may appear to be a small country, but it is just the type of entangled conflict that can lead to a world catastrophe. It does not take much imagination to see Syria as the Sarajevo of the 21st century, leading to world war.”
~Ahmed Zewail

 

In a town far away from borders, somewhere in its square,
a fiery combat thunders between mankind and airfare.
It’s been about four years since the war suddenly began,
and its life was its people, but its stones now red from rain.

The blood now stains those stones and it has been like this for years
and watchers and wanderers share no laughter, only tears.
And they’ll never find the answers as they see mortars fly.
But they’ll watch and they will wonder as they try to survive.

As the stars fall from the heavens and cast their lives aflame—
as they try with might to guard their children from all the pain—
an army soon arrives to their salvation and their cries,
but hope is soon forgotten when helmets of milk spill lies.

They force their way through the town and spare no lives at all
with their numbers and their weapons aimed for living soul.
Leaving destruction in their wake for all the town to see—
some bodies over the stones, parts scattered with the debris.

While the people of the town tend to wounds and bury dead
the milk helmets press into neighbour towns where they will spread
all the cruelty they will unleash—the death their weapons yield.
Then call upon the others to come join the battlefield.

All the world turns a blind eye as the news reports a win
of the invading forces for their economic sin.
And the leaders praise and worship for thousand coins or more—
anything to see them through to Syria’s battered door.

 


“It is not the horror of war that troubles me but the unseen horrors of peace.”
~
Warhammer 40,000 4th Edition Rulebook, page 16

Spring in Spring

Poetry


As the equinox of summer approaches and that of spring fades in the Northern Hemisphere, life resumes its cycle. Flora and fauna alike bustle as they emerge from the frost and chill of winter not so long gone. Mood improve with the change of season to complement the atmosphere. What wonders and challenges await?

 

Through meadows—
blossoms in bloom—
a girl giggles.


 

This was the hokku I entered for the second Haikai-no-Renga which was published as a fantasy tale called The One Within, edited by Damian Jay Clay and David LaSpina. The first Renga was one where my hokku won, and it was published as a science-fiction tale called In Search of Fresh Worlds.

I’ve learned a lot about poetry in general and especially about the Japanese form that became known as the ‘haiku’, learning a bit of the history of how the haiku came to be and how the term was created.

With thanks to David LaSpina for the information and his lessons on haiku history and theory. I’m entranced by the short poetry and the various forms it can take, like a tanka, double haiku, and mini-renga (which is not the same as a tanka, interestingly).

To Colour, or Not to Colour

Poetry, Unintended Poetry

An Unintended Poem


I think photography works
the same in black and white
as art work, which is that
the piece should seem complete
without colour, but as though
the mind can be tricked
to think that there is.

If that makes sense?

The various shades of grey
and the contrasting
should make it look
like it has colour.

 

Words by Anike Kirsten, Formatting by Damian Jay Clay.

Earth’s Tears

Poetry, Unintended Poetry

An Unintended Haiku


The Earth rotates—always—bringing about constant change. As it follows its elliptical orbit around the sun, the Northern hemisphere warms. After months of cold, frost, and snow, the Earth weeps tears of joy. Flora and fauna rise from their fights to survive, and come to rest. The Earth’s tears provide for them the precious matter needed for life.

 

I be well,
and I be pond,

and other sorts
of water bodies.

 

Words by Anike Kirsten, Formatting by Jasmine Arch.

I Got the Matrix Feeling

Poetry, Unintended Poetry

An Unintended Poem


I had a weird dream
based on your story
last night.

I kept waking up inside
a dream, to wake in a dream,
of different scenes.

I can’t quite remember
the details but the feeling
was that I was trying
to get back to reality.

I’m still feeling
like I’m about to wake
any moment.

 

Word by Anike Kirsten, Formatting by Damian Jay Clay.

Ode to My Spawn

Poetry


The life of a parent is nothing glamorous. Especially as a stay-at-home one. In the spirit of comedy, I have constructed this poem to show just how glamorous parenting is not.

I often refer to my children as my spawn—Spawn 1 and Spawn 2 (yes, that’s a Dr. Seuss influence).

 

Spawn of my womb, locks of fair gold,
why do you push your one finger
up your nostril after a snack?

Spawn of my womb, one from darkness,
must you insist on forcing cars
into the back of my ankles?

Spawn of my womb, carbon copy,
‘throw it away’ will never mean
chuck it outside through the window.

Oh, spawn of womb, stubborn tempered,
it’s time for bed. Why do you think
now is perfect sword-play time?

Spawn of myself, azure eyes bright,
did you not hear the slow and loud
uttering word telling you “no”?

To you, my spawn,
I am talking.

Can you not hear?

Spawn, oh dear spawn, tearer of flesh,
allow me sleep for five minutes
more than last morn from your unrest?

I hear you, spawn, waker of adults,
as your moaning mixes with haze
of earlier’s dream, let me just sleep?

Yes, spawn, my spawn, one of my flesh,
I feel your cup clash with my head
for the third time in four seconds.

Quiet, spawn of mine,
I hear your cries.

Did you want juice?

Go play with your sibling spawn
and just let me poop in peace.

Of Man and Machine

Poetry


This was my entry into a poetry contest held on the Steem blockchain, where the prompt was to write a poem with two segments—each segment being different from the other—while the title reconciles both. A juxtaposition.

I chose the concept of man and machine—biological versus artificial—as my theme. Another difference formed out of it as well: emotion versus logic—irrational and rational.

Numbers and lights make up your mind.
No tears nor smile show in those eyes.
“Will you ever know me—truly know me?”

I work my hands bare, the sores show.
You stare and run your programs.
“Can I ever teach you—truly teach you?”

Your body, silicon and alloy,
stays motionless; curved perfectly.
“Will I ever have you—truly have you?”

A soft touch, my skin meets yours–
artificial and biological.
“Will you ever feel this—truly feel this?”

Stepping back, smooth limbs twitch.
Neon green eyes glow, staring.
“Will you ever see me—truly see me?”

                      #

Processing sensory input:
appendages one through five.
Zero, one, one, zero, zero…

Analysing data fragments
of contaminated area.
Compiling information sets/

Optics detect subject’s structure,
Applying Pi—non-symmetric
formation of facial features.

Source identified: Dr Ohm—
Relationship: creator.
Human; flawed, emotional.

Gesture received. Location: arm.
Calibrating expectation…
Error 404: Not Found.

Food, Glorious Food

Poetry, Unintended Poetry

An Unintended Poem


I like vegetables
like pork and chicken
as well.

Aged rump with blue
cheese sauce is the best
meal I ever had.

I’ve no idea about Stilton
or Roquefort.

My cheese knowledge
is limited to blue,
cheddar, camembert,
and brie.

For everyday eating,
I never grow tired
of a strong cheddar,
especially with hot
English mustard.

Hugs, BigBadBear,
we don’t mean to tempt.

 

Words by Anike Kirsten, Formatting by Damian Jay Clay