Where Old Fliers Come to Roost

Each month Ancient Eagle Press offers a poem appropriate to the season or the mood of our editorial staff.   Poems may be new or drawn from existing AEP editions.

Poem of the Month

                                                        
                                                Hemolymph Moon

  Your arrogance is amusing,
  You who totter on two legs,
  A species barely out of the cradle,

  Declaring yourselves masters of the world.
  You are defenseless, weaponless,
  No toxins, no armor,
  You beg to be a victim, a host,
  A source of food for me and my kind.
  Unable to fly, barely able to swim,
  Your movement is slow and predictable.
  You rely for survival on your brain, 
  But in truth your brain has evolved little,
  And will be the cause of your passing.
  You organize like the ants,
  But have not evolved the instinct
  For self-sacrifice that sustains the colony.
  Your large brain has given you
  The power to destroy and create,
  But has not given you the wisdom
  To understand the consequences.
  Your fear and avarice lead you
  To kill others of your kind, 
  While your creations are destroying
  The world that sustains you.
  So we will enjoy you while you exist,
  Thrive on you and the chaos you create,
  But will not mourn your passing,
  As we wait for a better species to evolve.

  L. Alloway/2016

                            Archives

  October 2016 -- Vortex

  September 2016 -- Do You?

  August 2016 -- Sailing
  July 2016 --  Mulberries
  June 2016 -- Off Tucker Point
  May 2016 -- Unforgettable
  April 2016 -- At Night She Cries

Ancient Eagle Press

November 2016

It’s November in Virginia, a time of year that usually brings crisp nights and clear days.  The weather is marvelously variable, teasing with memories of summer one day and the promise of winter the next.  Leaves along Skyline Drive are past their peak, the oranges, yellows and amber now marching down to lower elevations and spreading across the valley.  This year, however, the glories of Autumn are tainted by malodorous vapors in the air.  This is an election year, with insults and innuendos flying faster than migrating song birds before the storm.  An opportunity to showcase what is best about democracy has been squandered, sullied by two candidates who choose to denigrate rather than inspire.  While the campaign has not yet fallen to the well-plumbed depths of the 1828 Jackson-Adams contest, it does smack of the 1884 campaign that pitted Grover Cleveland against James Blaine.  In that lesser-known contest the unsubstantiated claim that Cleveland fathered an “illegitimate child” weighed heavily against him.  For his part, Blaine was dogged by a history of influence peddling and bribery (which led to Congressional investigations of his letters that closed with "Kindly burn this letter", in which the candidate burned the evidence), but was done in when a Cleveland operative publicized anti-Catholic comments made by a supporter at a Blaine rally.  Wiki-Leaks is nothing new.  All of which leads me to select Hemolymph Moon as the November Poem of the Month.  Written from an insect’s point of view, it is a reminder that we are a young species still immature and unproven, a fact starkly demonstrated by this election.