The Carnivorous Canoes

By Ivor

Once upon a time in a world,

Perfect for those who lived there,

And for those who didn’t,

They wanted, wanted badly, and went to genocide,

All those who lived there already.

This spells disaster, 

Anyway you look,

And this?

This is the story of that conflict.

The conflict of Europeans and Taino.

I was wading through the water kissing the sand of the beach,

looking for shellfish,

When the wing ships came.

I hurried to get this tidbit of information to,

The Caquique,

The leader,

Of my humble people.

We went to greet these flying boats from the clouds,

With their fluffy white wings,

And many, many strange beings,

like us, 

But not us.

We traded spears and shells,

And gained clothes that flopped over your head.

They showed us strips of metal with points,

They let us touch them,

And when we cut our hands on it?

They laughed,

And continued to let us touch it.

One thing was made clear that night,

And it was that the Not-Men,

Wanted for gold,

More gold than we have,

When we tried to tell this,

Their leader seemed enraged.

The Not-Men retreated to their wing ships,

And let us alone for some few days.

But those days of peace were waning,

When the creatures we had treated as humans,

They kidnapped 7 of our women and even 3 of our children.

in the baby canoes birthed by the wing ships,

They took them into the belly of those monstrous canoes with wings,

And flew into the sky at the horizon just as they disappeared from sight.

Much grief and heartbreak was abounding in my village,

So when the ships of the Not-Men appeared once more,

in far greater number, we extended our hands in friendship once more,

But this time, 

They didn’t even acknowledge it.

They just took some 16 hundred of our friends and family,

To spirit them away too.

And for every other,

We were forced to find a cup of gold every month,

in gold poor lands and waters.

As the 100s of us,

Couldn't all find enough of the metal,

We learned of the punishment for disobeyment,

The dismemberment of our hands,

Hangings,

Bleeding to death from the stumps of our wrists.

Some tried to resist, and some won,

But we remained in a pitiful state,

Saved by Enrique,

Who stopped the system of our enslavement.

But of the few who weren’t spirited into the kingdom of the Not-Men,

Were weak and desperate.

For a people who just 10 winters past,

Numbered in the millions,

Now numbering in the hundreds,

My people… Our people…

All killed or enslaved by the man,

We know now was named,

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS

Sestina 

By Anonymous

As I walk, my footfalls echo on dry leaves 

Fallen from the barren trees 

The autumn sun

Shines in the sky 

Nearly obscured by the fluffy clouds

As I take a walk this evening 

The sunset illuminates the evening 

Bright colors reflecting off of wet leaves 

Pink streaks of beautiful clouds

Covered by the empty skeletons of barren trees 

Colors filling the sky 

Reflecting off the setting sun 

A heavy orange sun 

Suspended on the horizon on this autumn evening 

The colors paint the sky 

Behind falling leaves

Dangling from the trees 

The sky fills with clouds 

Covering the last of the sun 

Light rain sparkling on the trees 

Like jewels in the evening 

Water coats the fallen leaves 

Reflecting the darkening sky

Bright stars twinkle in the sky

Slightly obscured by wispy clouds

Reflecting off the shiny leaves 

All light has faded from the sleeping sun 

As the glow of the moon lights up the evening

Through the clawing branches of a tree

Tapping on my window are the branches of a tree

Clawing at the starry sky 

As I look out my window into the evening

A beautiful picture, framed by clouds

Once turned orange by the sun

The same color as the fallen leaves.

As trees sway outside my window, trapping clouds

Covering the sky, empty of the sunken sun 

The evening light long faded, with inky blackness reflecting off the leaves

"Despair has seized her throne"

By Auryn Voss

Peruse the walking lines of despairing

Gently tap at tear ducts overflowing

Voices croaked with despondent declaring

The pain of self aware mind and knowing

Words of she who promised me peaceful rest

Who whispered such falsehood upon my ears

And though I stomp upon my tearful test,

Still she may declare me her merry cheers

I know not of her all knowing weary

Whittled down to her glowing golden gem bone

My self aware mind despairing dreary

Born of lies seeded at the almighty throne

Yet still she cries my tears as if fresh blood

And soaks the throne in lies and winters flood

Snow Poem

By Ted Rose

After coming up from a long rest I saw much snow.

However sparsely populated, there were still tracks,

Tracks of an animal of some sort, I’m not sure what.

There is still some snow yet to be trod on.

However, all this white would melt before you got a chance 

To trod on it all. It comes and goes. 

It’s all art.

The spots there are can be so far apart.

The Cat

By Ted Rose

Night. It is all silent. 

I am looking out my window 

Where the whole of the other world seems asleep.

The only other soul awake is a cat. 

I am aware of it as it is aware of me. 

That grace, that skill, 

All that power in something so small,

Probably a killer but I don’t care.

Still, it’s a rare experience

Looking out the window on a cozy winter night

A tint of black in all that snow.

A cat in the moonlight.