Julie A. Dickson ----- four poems

Action Required

Attached firmly to the entrails

of receding justice,

we stand in shock, aghast.

Can the torch of Liberty burn out

so easily, extinguished by apathy,

or will man intervene?

Must it be the fate of humanity

to erupt into civil war,

knowing historically, they failed to resolve?

By voicing out truth, interpretive words,

dismissing silence as passive acceptance,

action required; peace is not attained by chance.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

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Women, Flowers and a Cow

Ok, some Susan has a flower named for her.

Black-Eyed Susans are abundantly found

on roadside or bower but who was she?

What quite astounds me this the idea that

the actual Susan might have bumped her eye

on a door and bore a shiner, but I implore you

to explain to me why a gold flower bears her name

or are cows to blame, since I read that a Holstein

black and white was sometimes nicknamed the same.

Yes, Black-Eyed Susans of the bovine variety

were said to give the sweetest milk, they claim,

but back to the flower which is not black and white

and now I’m confused (because of the cow];

again the gold and black flower comes to mind;

sure, it was kind of the person who claimed

the title (or fame) for their particular Susan.

I’d prefer the reason be known, since I wonder

if the poem of this name refers to the same

Susan written by the poet John Gay?

In a long-ago day, gold and black coat of arms

for Lord Baltimore, thus the state flower

of Maryland is (you guessed it) the Black-Eyed Susan.

Once more the mystery unfolds to reveal

a woman, a flower and a cow. (how surreal!)

Now you know the why and how I began to

feel there was more to the given name of

this gold and black flower. I thought by the hour

of a woman named Susan, of her boarding ships

and the root extracts diuretic, for grips and

remedies for maladies by natives and maybe

this story goes on in a black and gold epic!

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

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Smolder in Doubt

Wandering, but not exactly –

more like wondering, or beyond that,

revealing an underlying force,

not so much feeling remorse,

and in that belief a change begins.

I feel strange in this unknown state,

know I cannot relate – I can barely

conceal my surprise as I start

to recognize the feeling

I now see was discontent.

Emerging from a past, predictable abyss,

surging forward, perhaps too fast -

afraid to miss the pinnacle, unreachable,

no warning visible but the disquiet I sense,

no recompense on this path I seek.

I must speak out - loudly now,

put aside this proudly meek existence,

forge ahead, into a gorge, a deep chasm,

between a place of reaction, what must be

and in sorrow, where I’ve been as I flee.

Left behind a burnt, scorched ember,

the fire has gone out,

ashes smolder in doubt

as I try not to remember.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

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Untitled Tanka Poem

Cooler comes Autumn,

fades heavy heat of Summer,

ceases Cicada song.

Acorns gathered in earnest,

falling leaves bleed crimson tears.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH