Coffee and Papercuts by Leah Bailey

Author:Leah Bailey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Conscious Dreams Publishing
Published: 2022-04-30T07:37:22+00:00

Title Poem

What we have all

endured

Coffee and Papercuts

January

The coffee brings me calm in the morning,

The papercuts should be fair warning.

First of the year began, as it does,

with the usual joy change brings.

Not being home, unusual, as it goes . . .

No family with me, the new year rings.

Overnight the news was ablaze,

Australia’s suffering, before our eyes.

Humans and animals, tragically razed,

destroyed, as a helpless world cries.

A crisis brewed with explosive force,

Trump killed Solemani at Iraqi airport.

Near World War III, I’m thinking, “Of course . . . ”

This year, only new begun, will be short.

The coffee brings me calm in the morning,

The papercuts should be fair warning.

Not the only war, in a year not yet old:

Libia, Yemen, Iran fires on not one but two,

Drone attacks and missiles, wreckage unfolds,

Downed planes and bases, killing the innocent too.

Missiles launched at hosts, soldiers the target,

why must bystanders pay for other’s crimes?

Hundreds killed or shot down, all should regret,

amazed, one week in, as fear climbs and climbs.

Looking beyond, a summer intern finds,

With like minds, a planet system 4.4 billion aged.

Yet on Earth we can’t seem to love our own kind,

Boko Haram, against Nigeria, 89 killed, not caged.

The coffee brings me calm in the morning,

The papercuts should be fair warning.

World loses its mind when royals retreat to reality

after decades of limelight telling them to.

But by mid-January reality retreats to the banality

Of multiple debates, to contrast a fool.

For only the second time in US history . . .

Articles of impeachment issued . . . and denied.

Why may always remain a mystery

Obstruction, abuse of power, little hope died.

Travel advisories issued but first US case shows

the shadow that would haunt, as long as it lasts.

A public health emergency, the W.H.O. knows,

those who don’t . . . tragically, innocently, laugh.

Two exits end this January time;

Kobe, his daughter and seven more crash;

Official “Brexit” makes UK believe it will be fine

(though later it might seem the choice was rash).

For me the month ends in more personal vein,

for 20 years I’ve wanted my words out.

A friend of a friend publishes my refrain,

and from a simmering whisper my poems shout.

The coffee brings me calm in the morning,

The papercuts should be fair warning.

February

Trump acquits himself poorly in Union speech,

but the Senate acquits his impeachment without trial.

Boy Scouts are bankrupt as accusations reach.

First US recorded covid death fails to rile.

Ahmed Arbery goes for his morning jog,

with Georgia bigots not far behind,

shooting him in some crazy racist fog . . .

and so begins a fire that makes us blind.

Syria may still be at war, as it has before,

but NATO supports Turkey and the world breathes . . .

US and Taliban have a conditional peace, at its core

when troops are withdrawn and we hope none got left.

For me, a trip long planned and wanted finally arrives,

unaware of lockdown to come, I go to Rome and see

the heart of the eternal city that beats and thrives.

The seeds of Chasing Apollo are planted within me.

Never speak too soon, never count too far,

2020 already taught us to keep doors and windows open.

A leap

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