Cicada

                   

        Cicada .... a Time Traveling Poem                                        

                             by Anne Selden Annab 

           

Cicadas - East Coast, Mid-Atlantic

come tunneling out

Brood X -  every 17 years.

The name is as it sounds.

Once when I was a little girl

camping in a pup tent, no tarp,

warm earth where the lawn edge

meets the fence and field beyond.

That summer night, early,

the earth erupted...

It was not fun.

17 years later,

divorced, one child, I was

a single mother working,

living downtown far far away

from the cicadas emerging

and the learned fears of childhood.

Then into my forties, 17 years later,

remarried, safe, respected,

3 almost grown children

and my delight

in hearing the woods hum

as we hike, collecting some

but certainly not all cicada shells-

nymph exoskeletons.

Now into my sixties,

slowing down

out for a country drive

in the passenger seat.

Revisiting childhood haunts.

Here and there, some green trees

with leaves on twig tips brown, flagging,

as the tree fed cicadas prepare

to drop back to earth,

tunnel back down

to feed on roots.

                                                   poem copyright ©2021 Anne Selden Annab

I feed on freedom ... a Time Traveling Poem

                            I feed on freedom ... a Time Traveling Poem

                                        by Anne Selden Annab

 

I feed on freedom-

wind in my hair freedom

birds sing freedom

flowers bloom freedom...

Freedom from ugliness.

Freedom from anouther's rage

(funny how my own rage

feels so innocuous.)

Freedom from violence,

freedom from cruelty,

freedom from hunger

and joblessness.

Freedom from servitude

and slavery and homelessness.

Freedom from starvation

Freedom from selfishness,

I think... I hope ... Oh and the freedom to think,

and hope,

maybe even say what I think freedom.

Freedom to mourn the removal

of exquisite equine statues

and historic generosity...

Noble gestures once respected

and honored like gravestones

and old bones buried long ago.

Technology changes how we move forward,

from formal carved, upright headstones on

a hillside- to the opposite with countless

totally flat memorial plates, like trap doors

in a mowed expanse of grass lawn dotted by

tight bunches of cut flowers marking here

and there... to wilding now with native flowers

and new forests absorbing urns

that are compost for ashes.

Planned stretches of meadows

with birdhouses,

or meditation grooves

with water features... woods with paths,

living parks to mourn and honor our dead

while we the living still have the freedom

to wander and wonder what if...

                                                    poem copyright ©2021 Anne Selden Annab

Selecting ... poem by Anne Selden Annab

Bernard d'Agesci (1757-1828), La justice,
Holds scales in one hand and in the other hand a book with "Dieu, la Loi, et le Roi" on one page and the Golden rule on the other page.

       

          Selecting

Always
things can go either way... we
the people more often than not will
what will be
with our energy
and investments:

So break away from naysayers
and negative nasty connections
for they build delusions
full of wounds
and failure.

Cherish good
seek it out
find it where you are now-
willing better times to come

Be of those who welcome life
negotiated step by step
to be balance
to be walking forward
to be dancing along the way
with whim as goodness wins...

Be of the will that gets things done
Be of the way where the Golden Rule
illuminates

Be of the stars
guiding ships
where bridges can't reach

Be of the will
willing
to shape destiny.

 

                          poem copyright ©2013 Anne Selden Annab

Post Woke

 

                                 Post Woke- A Time Traveling Poem by Anne Selden Annab

 

I look forward to Post-Woke

when true hope has a chance

to climb up and replace

misplaced entertainments

that prance about as News.

A Post-Woke world

where online activists

no longer pedal hate

and scorn for America,

races or religions or

whatever.

A Post-Woke world

where virtue signaling

is not admired.

A Post-Woke world

where "Green"

is less advertising logo

and more an honest effort

to save our earth.

                                                           poem copyright ©2021 Anne Selden Annab

 

Okra in America

A Time Traveling Poem by Anne Selden Annab


      Okra in America



I like to imagine

that the first okra came to America
carried close to the heart of a beautiful

quite competent and loving woman
from Africa.


A loving woman with very brown skin
and very black hair and very kind thoughts.


A woman with curves
and complexities.



This loving and wise woman carefully kept safe
the okra seeds. Then when settled here,
in America,  she planted them. Tended them.
Harvested them. Cooked the okra...
and all who tasted her magic
wanted more.


                              poem copyright ©2020 Anne Selden Annab

Real Anti-Racists

Shaping a better world
for all types and tribes
is a worthy goal.
    
Real anti-racists
do not believe that color
or religion or race or gender
(or a flag) are reasons for hate.

Real anti-racists know
and do not try to distort
or erase history.

Real anti-racists
might be found any where
but only if you look,
think, and care. 

poem copyright ©2019 Anne Selden Annab

Traveller ... a poem by Anne Selden Annab

Charlottesville Virginia: Robert E Lee statue in Lee Park

            Traveller

The first thing one might see
when walking with a small child
is the majesty of a beautiful horse.

And the first story one might tell
is how people once walked
or rode on camels or mules...

and eventually in horse drawn carriages.

Other stories follow in time,

each to our own.

Some use art to urge people to think,
but some use art to urge people to hate:

Bully campaigns begin and grow.

You and I hold the reins
of where our thoughts wander,
what we see in art
and a public park-

free space.

I will continue to see a noble role model
surrendering for the sake
 of real people.

I will also, always, see the generosity in the gift,
by a citizen aware of the mourning widows
and orphans, and the wounded.

I see good manners, compassion, and a
wealth of wisdom
in The Gentleman's Agreement
that ended the war
at Appomattox.

AND I see good manners,
compassion, and a wealth of wisdom
a century later
in Dr. Martin Luther King Jr's uplifting words
as he makes our democracy more real.

poem copyright ©2017 Anne Selden Annab