Week 3
Prompt: THE FUTURE
Paint Chips:
watermelon
gargoyle
swamp
vintage turquoise
chanterelle
What do you see when you look into the future? While our paint chips prescribed a framework, you’ll find distinctly different paths in the poems below: a life without water? the “go-go” years? modern oracles that compete for our attention?
Have a look, and enjoy!
The Future
by Patricia J. Franz
without water
summer watermelon’s just another berry
a forest without water means no fairy
chanterelles
a swamp without water’s like a scary
unbathed teen, hair uncombed,
yesterday’s clothes, no mud
but just as dirty
a mountain without water
means no rivulet with copper
and aluminum to form
a vein
of vintage turquoise
no water puts a gargoyle out of work
©draft 2022
The Future
by Kathy Pon
What more than a future fantasy?
Imagine we lose this sinking swamp
jet off, a magical montage of reverie.
Your spider legs climb cathedral spires
mouth open, an eager gargoyle, you await
my kisses. Then jaunt to San Sebastian,
shellfish & saffron paella, beneath
chanterelle bent trees. Vintage turquoise
flowers rain a river. We float on bubbles,
sip pink watermelon wine, our go-go
dream. Escape even as wrinkles crevice
our faces, devour these fruitful years.
April 12, 2022
The Future
N. Schlegel
We have always looked aloft
to ponder our deepest thoughts.
It is an exercise unchanged by era,
The stars alight our common rite:
to lie awake as night unfolds,
And wonder what the future holds.
who’ll guards the cathedrals of tomorrow,
when there are no gargoyles
to grimace down grotesquely from on high?
No more gothic grandeur to draw collective eye?
Do you heed the Oracle?
They built her home atop Hellenic hills,
Stole the sky from our eyes
offered divination and circus as a shill.
They swamped her soul in opium,
bent her mind on chantr’elle.
A holy virgin, doped and psychotroped.
Blessed lies, in turn, disguised,
rewoven, decreed and prophesized.
Priestess, come praise our progress!
Let’s pass the opiates around,
take a tab,
half a hit,
a micro-dose,
and ask the World to sit down.
Medically sanctioned
modern Oracles abound.
Their blessed lies, in turn, criticized,
Psychoanalyzed.
A modern psyche simplified:
“Don’t worry about what comes next,
don’t lose a moment from today.
Go seek the thing that makes you happy.
Find meaning in vintage turquoise trinkets,
embrace their vibrancy and vitality.
Savor the sensation as your teeth
slice through the first of summer’s watermelon.
Breathe in the day, and sleep through the stars.”
But I don’t follow fad psychology,
I’ll stay starstruck, no apologies.
Eyes fixed on the firmament
mind dreaming of what the future holds.
4/8/2022
Patricia Franz is a kidlit writer and published poet. She believes children, dogs, and sourdough have a lot to teach us about life, joy, and wonder. She has raised two boys, four dogs, and holds a master’s degree in Theology with a focus on children’s spirituality. Patricia, her husband, her Bernese Mountain dog, Bonny, and her sourdough starter split their time between the Arizona desert and the Sierra Nevada mountains. 