Category Archives: poems

The Woman and the Whale

By Ethel Mortenson Davis from her new book, The Woman and the Whale

The day was a day of celebration.
A small Right Whale stood vertical,
head out of the water,
straight up in the air,
his dorsal fins reaching like arms
toward the sky.

A woman diver
from a South Pacific Island
said the whale tried to tuck her
under his dorsal fin
when she interacted with him.

At first, she struggled to get away—
until she saw the shark
circling her, trying to get at her.
The whale kept his body between
the diver and the shark.

Then the whale grew agitated,
slapped his tail at the shark,
before finally running it off.

Today, the whale came back with his family,
many heads sticking straight up in the air.

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Recipe for Metamorphosis, Democracy to Dictatorship

By Thomas Davis

First, secure a charismatic character,
preferably a male who has lived a flawed life
seething with perceived slights and resentments.
Then have him attract two kinds of followers:
those who believe society has left them unfairly behind
and those who can imagine their support for such a leader
can help them gain power, wealth, or prestige.

After the charismatic leader secures followers
through outrageous statements and dramatic performative art,
enflame resentments against elites and their status quo,
laying claim to a mythological glorious past with glorious values
that only a Great Leader can magically bring back to life—
as Christ did with Lazarus.
Claim divine intervention in the Great Leader’s life,
proving beyond doubt that God is on the Great Leader’s side
as he crusades against society’s carnage brought about by elites,
even if they masquerade as common people,
that have gained benefits they clearly don’t deserve.

Then, have the Anointed One win His election
by making Him the only news worth covering by the press
as he attacks the press and paints them as part of the hated elite.
Let the Great Leader encourage his followers
to attack those not absolutely on his and their side
so that everyone begins to fear being the target of the Great Leader’s wrath.
Attack the integrity of elections,
claiming fraud where no fraud exists.
Eliminate voters from voting rolls in places where the vote might be negative.
And always, let the Great Leader be outrageous and bold
and filled with the glory of who He is and who He will be.

Then mix in rich oligarchs willing to fund
ugly campaigns against any opposition,
creating division among different populations of people whenever possible,
making good people afraid to step out in the line fire,
fearing to have reputations and lives damaged by lies advertised against them.
Enrich the supporting rich with government largesse beyond measure.
as power flows into the Great Leader’s glory.
Develop and implement policies that hurt
the stranger, the poor, the old, the handicapped, anyone
who his followers can see as lesser than themselves because of his actions.

Create a new Golden Age
brought to fruition by the Great Leader’s genius
as he thumps his chest and has his minions praise his glorious leadership
over and over again.

Celebrate dictators around the world and attack democracies as leeches
taking unfair advantage of a country that has benefited from their trade
and become the rich democracy it has become.
Get the public to recognize the glorious strength of strong men.

Accustom those who have always seen themselves as good people
to cruelty as immigrant children and families are deported,
starving children in famine areas die as aid that kept them alive is yanked away,
and families with the need for special programs spend nights crying
as they worry about whether they are going to lose benefits
and lose all as they face increased disability, illness, or some other devastation.

Let the Great Leader mock those who fought in the War to End All Wars
or the soldiers who protected the country
or became prisoners of war because they were fools
as he declares love for the military he attacks,
weakening the honor a country has for its independent military structure.
Then begin to erode the rights of the press and poets who write poems he doesn’t like
or artists who create art that anybody who is Great can see is ugly.
And always, create dramas that dominate the news
as He mocks those who report on or oppose his antics,
claiming He is the only one whose words count,
that the Great Leader who saves the country can break no law or tell no lie.

And as you are doing all of this,
use raw power to begin dismantling society’s norms and institutions,
creating norms and institutions in Your image,
claiming norms and institutions that created and maintained
peace and prosperity for seventy years has led to carnage and failure.

And after institutions and norms have been damaged beyond repair,
point out how terrible the previous leadership was to allow such failures
and blame them for every problem the Great Leader creates.
Surround the Great Leader with sycophants
as everyone must acknowledge the gloriousness of the Great Leader’s Glory.

Metamorphosis is complete:
Democracy is no longer needed. The Great, divine Leader is the country that serves him.

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Looking for DEIs

by Thomas Davis

I’ve been looking around for DEIs,
But I haven’t found any yet.
I thought at first, they were like gremlins,
Little people-like creatures that mostly looked ugly.
I know they are black, brown, yellow, and woman,
But every black, brown, yellow, and woman I know
Wouldn’t answer to, “Come here, DEI,”
Any more than I would,
And anyway, even a gremlin
Wouldn’t crash a plane and helicopter
With seventy-six people on board,
Would they?

I thought about asking our congressman,
Or maybe our President,
To draw me a picture of a DEI
So I’d recognize one when I saw one,
But then I thought to myself,
What if they are a DEI hire in disguise?
Can’t anybody paint themselves up
as a white Christian man?
What then?

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After Bucha, Ukraine

By Thomas Davis

Bucha was known as Ukraine’s Switzerland. Now it is synonymous with unimaginable horror.

            Charles McPhedran, Mother Jones Magazine


I keep imagining Yevtushenko on a Moscow stage in 1961,
young, eyes bright, arms flailing, his pacing energy
exploding into a wild, deep voice
as he declaims about Babi Yar and Stalin’s evil
as Jewish bodies decayed in an unmarked ravine in Ukraine.

I keep seeing the Russian crowd,
glittering sophistication,
stunned at first and then roaring
as poetry stirs in the Russian soul
and reminds them that Stalin, the Tsars,
the years when peasants struggled for survival,
the siege of the Nazis at Stalingrad
were the past, never to be repeated.

Inside that image, I keep sensing
the old Russian bear stirring,
shapeshifting, growling old resentments
into bombs that explode into apartment buildings
and schools and maternity wards
where new-born babies and their mothers
lie screaming as walls shudder and fall.

And I keep wondering if it is Russians
rising out of their history into rage—

or if the Russians are humankind
attacking, attacking, attacking
all life on earth out of history and insatiable greed.

“Blood is flowing,
spreading across the floors,” Yevtushenko wrote.
“And I, myself,
am one massive, soundless scream
above the thousand thousand buried here.”

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Christmas

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

We are in need of the Archangel to come down
and tell us we have lost paradise,

to come down and tell us we have lost the wonderment
of the child as he looks into the face of the black and white warbler,

or the wonderment of multi-colored lichen
on the facade of giant boulders.

We are in need of an Archangel to tell us we have lost heaven,
and there will be no Messiah to save us from ourselves.

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Stellar’s Jay

by Ethel Mortenson Davis from her book, I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico

A prince stepped
out on our land
this morning
from some far away place.

He wore a spectacular black headdress
and was dressed
all in blue
with geometric checkers
across his shoulders.

I slipped an extra banquet
out to him
so he would stay
a bit longer.

But he wiggled his white eyebrows,
a fine prince of a fellow,
then hurried off
to catch a wind.

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Dying and the Mystery of Absence

When Ethel Mortenson Davis and I created this site while we lived in New Mexico, we did so partially to make sure that we had a creative place to not only showcase some of the poetry and art we have both produced throughout our lifetimes but to also honor our son, Kevin Michael Davis. Kevin had died in Poughkeepsie New York where he was a web designer for Vassar College after a short struggled against aggressive cancer. While we put this blog together, we were both still in the throes of grieving and trying to deal with Kevin’s loss.

The new anthology is available at https://www.amazon.com/Leaving-anthology-poetry-mystery-absence/dp/1999740831/ref=sr_1_1?crid=S3YX5MBBHIVN&keywords=Leaving+Bennison+Books&qid=1699623562&s=books&sprefix=leaving+bennison+books%2Cstripbooks%2C104&sr=1-1

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To the Innocent

For Troy Davis

I hope you are
in a place 
where there is justice,

where there is love
unconditionally,
the end,

where young men
no longer are lynched
by ropes,
or the machinations of killers,

where there is light
and not the suffocating,
ethered mud,

a place where you will
rise above humanness.

I hope you are in a place
called Justice,
a place that will never be named
Georgia.

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Maple Sugar Moon

On World Poetry Day

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Maple sugar moon,
golden-eyed
like maple sap
boiling over wood fires.

Finally,
you tell us
of the coming spring—
sweetness that brings
satisfaction,

one more year
to get things right.

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Forever

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Forever is not a word
In our universe,
nothing in it
stays the same.
One day our earth
will become pieces
in the cosmic pond.

We are not forever.
Your movement
in the early morning
through the quiet rooms
will one day drift away.

Forever is not a word
in our universe.
One day we too
will have to part.

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