Poems by Cate Pitterle
Firefly’s Light Glowing softly, a source of light Shining true through the black night. A small yet truly significant bug The world for him to light and hug. Flying through the bleak, black night Ready to give up this flight, Take a journey and kill his light, A firefly flew through the black night. Prepared for loss, ready to give, The thing that humans need to live; The hope and love that nurtures mankind. The truth of tonight is too dark a fright For the light to not shine truly bright. The darkness imminent, the toil broad Ready to fly on his own last night And spread the light to the land and the laws. A glowing self, a soft amber-gold light, One that every insignificant bug One that every exhausted animal Would possess in their eyes, In the soft eerie glow Of their amber-gold eyes. The owls and wolves of night with their large bleak eyes, The crows and seabirds of day with their large bleak eyes, The bears and snakes of both with their large bleak eyes, The humans of all with their large bleak eyes, Would be brightened, enlightened, With this amber-gold glow Taking the firefly's light and love and hug To spread it among them and live like the bug. But the darkness was imminent, And the silver tree glowed With none the light of the firefly's hope.
And the darkness, the protruding darkness Of the one who sought to destroy the love And hope and sight and beautiful hug. The animals warred, and started to turn, The humans warred, and started to turn, Standing tall, each against the other And, truly, the love and light of the beautiful bug. Always enemies, always hunting, No longer aware of the beautiful hug. It stands to this day, but can we forget What should have been a wary spell But instead was a trap, an unstoppable net? Can we forget the mistakes of the past? And remember, my friends, The amber-gold glow That makes itself seen in the darkness of light In the imminent and beautiful loss of the light It isn't truly darkness, it's more than the blackness, For it is ridden with stars and a silverfish moon, Glowing with the magic of the firefly's hug. Ready to glow with its amber-gold light, To forget the darkness and bring back the light.
Vocaroo recording: http://vocaroo.com/i/s1f7nDwPpPW
Where the Yellow Rock Stands Where the yellow rock stands A bombsite, a shell Of the stories that this land used to tell. When the green leaves and the red trees Used to dig their roots in and branch to the sky This was the land where the yellow rock stands. A mournful birdcall in an evening canyon, Echoes of the Promised Land that used to be Where the wind once blew straight and free Yet now dips and swerves in an urge to flee. The day was sheltered by a rich canopy, But now is little more than barren earth. This is the place where the yellow rock stands. And the people below, in their wooden huts by the trees, The red and gold and green and brown trees, With their fires glowing warm as the night's glowing moon, Were doomed to cruel hand of twisted typhoon. The rain and the wind destroyed what once stood In the place where the yellow rock stands. The wind took the sand from the sea, Though the place was not just filled with empty air and a boulder, But the undying memories and the hope of a morning That maybe, just maybe, something will grow
In the place where the yellow rock stands.
Vocaroo recording: http://vocaroo.com/i/s1vVthEbQReV
Ode to Short Poems When they say more is better, They are lying, I say, In terms of a poem that's long. Shorter is better! Less is always more! Sure, they use logic To say something like; "Two is less than three," But it's not! It's really not!, That is, if you add A negative sign before Each specified number. Because certainly You must know by now That shorter is better than longer. And if I haven't ingrained My point in you yet, I shall share my thoughts with you more. For you see that I don't agree With all those horrible commercials That always end with the sentence That says, "More is better." No, it's not! Let me be clear that when you hear That the haiku is the best kind of poem Because it is only three lines And seventeen syllables, That is always right, never wrong. Even though this is true, I can't help but wish That there were a two-line poem With a sound count less than this. Down with poems as long as a moat! Some poems are as long as Jupiter!
Why must they do this, oh don’t I miss The poems as short as a retort. But nobody seems to think of it When they go along making Their poems as long as a day and a night. At thus I always wonder Why everyone believes That making a longer poem Will not bore someone to death? And when they talk about their hamsters All cute and fuzzy and soft and warm, I can't help but think, "Can't you just say, 'I had a hamster, He was cute.'?" Well, that's what I would write. Never in a million years Would I ever think of it To write a poem longer Than just a few lines. Because, when I say That less is more You can be completely sure That I mean what I say.
Vocaroo recording: http://vocaroo.com/i/s1aXMA85MlmS
Citations "Eric Kim." Eric Kim. N.p., n.d. Web. 02 Oct. 2014. "Video Games, Wikis, Cheats, Walkthroughs, Reviews, News & Videos IGN." IGN. N.p., n.d. Web. 02 Oct. 2014. "Related Wallpapers." Desert Rock HD Desktop Wallpaper : High Definition : Fullscreen : Mobile. N.p., n.d. Web. 01 Oct. 2014. "Www.greenhdwallpaper.com - Best Green HD Wallpapers and Desktop Backgrounds." Www.greenhdwallpaper.com - Best Green HD Wallpapers and Desktop Backgrounds. N.p., n.d. Web. 04 Oct. 2014.