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Extinction Event
The sky burned black the day the giants died.
A flaming mountain pierced the turquoise bay.
When doomsday comes, the clever know to hide.
The thunder woke a mammal safe inside
the burrow where our pink-skinned forebears lay.
The sky burned black the day the giants died.
The hawk swoops from its tall perch, but lands wide.
The squirrel zags off. He’s not the meal today.
When doomsday comes, the clever know to hide.
The general marches off to war with pride.
A private shrewdly lags, then runs away.
The sky burned black the day the giants died.
Liam gazed at the Titanic, stupefied,
but steerage berths cost more than he would pay.
When doomsday comes, the clever know to hide.
Ford’s Theater shook with howls of laughter–why’d
some quietly leave midway through the play?
The sky burned black the day the giants died.
When doomsday comes, the clever know to hide.
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The Time Machine
Every boy has a hideout no one knows:
mine was a cave in tangled privet bush
where I could visit any time I chose.
I only had to twist a branch and—whoosh!—
I trekked thick jungle, T-Rex roaring near me,
or fought at Vicksburg, musket belching smoke;
a Knight Crusader, I made each foe fear me,
until, across the ages, thunder spoke—
“Come home! Now!” Quick, fast forward! Grazed and glum,
I trudged back frowning to homework and bed,
yet when boyhood looked hopelessly ho-hum
this pinky promise pounded in my head:
“Don’t turn your backs, or I’ll slip out unseen
and wave goodbye aboard my Time Machine!”
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Carey Jobe is a retired lawyer who has published poetry over a 45-year span. His work has recently appeared in The Orchards Poetry Journal, The Lyric, The Road Not Taken, and Sparks of Calliope. He lives and writes south of Tallahassee, Florida.
Long live the Time Machine!
Thanks for two excellent reads, Carey.
Thank you, Paul!
Loved your abandon cemetery poem. May I have your permission to publish it in my upcoming book called “Cottontown Tennessee” “It’s People, Culture, & History”
It’s a photo book and your poem would do well in the family cemetery chapter of my book where I found many abandoned family cemeteries in the hills of Cottontown.
FROM THE MODERATOR: Mr.Jobe I have removed Mr. Herrin’s phone number and am sending it to you by email.
The “Extinction Event” treks across time one event at a time with clever twists, turns, and powerful repetitive lines. Superbly done with excellent imagery. The Time Machine is a perfect example of what happens to us in childhood, from the acting scenarios to the homework waiting for us. I enjoyed both of them.
Thanks, Roy! I’m returning to writing poetry after a long hiatus, so I’m really grateful for your encouraging words.
Very clever, great imagination in both of these, Carey. Made me think of my own childhood hiding place!
Thank you, Paul. Since I retired, it seems my childhood memories have started flooding back. I’m so glad you liked my poems!
I love “The Time Machine!” I used to play that same imaginative game at that age, time-traveling like in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Thanks for bringing back the memories.
The villanelle is well done. I don’t personally believe in evolution, but that’s really the only thing that stops me from liking it as much as the other one. (Hopefully that’s understood as a compliment as intended.)
Joshua, understood! And thanks for liking my two poems. I like to think my poetry will evolve over time, or at least not devolve.
“The Time Machine” was a fun read Carey. It brought happy memories for which I thank you.
Thanks for your kind comment, Norma. I’m glad you liked my poem!
Time Machine took me back to when I was a kid exploring and playing in the woods, where the leaves in a brooklet became “fish”, and imagination knew no bounds. I like the way you rhyme “bush” with “whoosh”, “glum” and “ho-hum”.
Thank you, Cheryl. I like to think those are rhyme-pairs that a boy might think of. Glad you liked!
I love these poems, especially the villanelle which is one of my favorite forms. “Extinction Event” uses the power of this form to immense effect. The two repetend lines are enticing and exciting… an eerie echo of dread. I like the Liam-Titanic and Ford-Theatre nods and the images conjured… “our pink-skinned forebears” and that zagging squirrel. It’s a poem that demands to be read more than once, and I will be back. Great stuff! Thank you, Carey.
“…A poem that demands to be read more than once” — you’ve paid the greatest compliment any poem (and poet) can receive. Thanks unbounded! Carey