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April 6, 2007

4.6.07

Your free association word of the day is polished.

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Comments

Religistitious

They stop each day to rub it,
as though they believe the myth.

That by some act of goodness,
the great one might grant the gift.

They’d like to recite some chant,
or with enlightenment, quote some verse.

But, not knowing what he stood for,
they fear their chant could be a curse.

So quietly they stop and rub,
a short blip, in their busy day,

A timid little rub is all,
then they hurry on their way.

While his shoulders, legs, and arms,
slowly turn a patina green.

His big ole stately belly,
is polished to a brassy sheen.

Posted by: kipp at April 6, 2007 10:52 AM · Permalink

Nice!

Posted by: Stacy at April 6, 2007 11:33 AM · Permalink

The polished mirrors of the Moon Telescope sit inside steel towers,
reflecting and focusing the beautiful, cold universe.

Until yesterday.

The signals are unmistakable, but what? Did we find aliens?
Coincidence? Could they be benevolent Gods, malevolent Devils,
uncaring explorers?

I will never know for sure, I can't bear to KNOW. But I have a guess.

My polished helmet reflects the noon sun reflecting from the wall.
I climb the ladder.

Before I fall through the focus and incinerate, I'll catch a distorted
glimpse of myself; and really, isn't that all we're ever going to see
in our polished mirrors?

Posted by: Randall Shane at April 7, 2007 9:45 PM · Permalink