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The gigantic meteor crashed
and Mother Earth stood still The dinosaurs looked in horror and they looked in despair. They didn’t have a language but they were very aware. When the meteor crashed in a cosmic blast the sky became darkened by ashes. The earth froze and the nourishing sun faded fast, and the plants and dinosaurs became fossils There was a spark of creation when smart furry animals started Life anew. Mankind emerged from the forests and fires were seen and the sounds of voices grew. The people said, “We must keep warm and cook,” and the leaders said, “We must build great monuments,” and everyone searched for more wood. Mother Earth came to the rescue. From eons past came coal, gas, and oil and leaders produced great engines that promised happiness and prosperity for all. But screeches echoed from the forest and deluges gushed from the glacier. The creatures huddled again from these attacks on nature. The scientists cried from the mountains and the sky became a canopy of gases. Father Sun’s rays were trapped below and Mother Earth was baked to ashes. But hope was slipped in among all the miseries. Look! the light is shining. We can see the rebirth in the children of spring. They are planting trees planting trees planting trees. © 2021 Larry Kilham  Larry Kilham's Poetry Collection combines all his best poems with beautiful color photos to dramatize his poetic thoughts. The poems explore living with nature in this age of technology and synthetic environments. Larry urges us to at least temporarily become unstuck from our digital hives and reengage with the magical and creative environment of nature. Available for purchase on Amazon,
These poems bring us hope during troubled times through our connection with nature. Chapters include poems on dreams, understanding ourselves, nature, robots and us, and living in the time of covid. There is also a special chapter of legends told by poetic verse. To see all his published poems go to allpoetry.com/lkilham. Two popular poems in this collection are: HUMMINGBIRD Hummingbird, hummingbird, floating on invisible wings, darting here and there, while the whole garden sings. How do your tiny little eyes find the perfect blossom? You always do and I think you’re awesome! You hover in flight and look me in the eye. Our souls join momentarily and I follow you to the sky. © 2021 Larry Kilham --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- DESERTLANDIA We walked the desert in our land. We saw robot wrecks scattered in the sand. Not broken pots or pillars of stone, but defunct computers and scattered phones. We heard a ghostly voice from a gossamer muse, “Look around for what's nice-- Something besides plastics and rust. The creations of art and music fed the worms and now are dust.” © Larry Kilham 2018 I gazed upon a crisp night sky
like the shepherds of old. They saw creatures there and gods and heroes bold. “Hallelujah!” was hope they held for angels to answer their call but today we only see satellites orbiting over all. I hear there’s twinkling hope in planets light-years away. Intelligent life may lurk beyond, but what have we to say? Our support forever is Mother Earth. We are her children, not her master. We must share with all her creatures and there will be harmony forever. © 2021 Larry Kilham  The big old house sits atop yonder hill guarding its history from curious eyes. They say its full of spirits all claiming important family ties. A stranger approached through the mist with curiosity nudging him to the door. He knocked and knocked to no avail while the wind whistled “Nevermore!” Finally he found a basement door unlocked but covered with vines. The stranger gave it a mighty push and collapsed among racks of wines. He brushed off cobwebs and dust and the bottles set him to think: “A rich family settled here once at least two centuries past. They nonstop partied and drank because the future seemed so vast.” Some force pulled him upstairs to the kitchen strangely still No food or wine waited on silver trays nor a butler to sense his will. But “Listen,” a voice seemed to say, “Go to the library down the hall and look for a squire by the fire and he should tell you all.” The stranger looked all around but no squire was to be found only august gentlemen and ladies watching from portraits all around. Neatly shelved were hundreds of books probably none read but also no TV. He admired furniture, china and bric-a-brac standing ready for the next society tea. Then a voice from somewhere said: “This old house sits on a historic hill guarding its history from curious eyes and I, the squire, am its guardian spirit but you took me by surprise.” “You must talk to my daughter who resides on the uppermost floor I will call and introduce you while you go to knock at her door.” The stranger thought this a little odd that he was not questioned and trusted so but he was bound to follow the path to whomever and wherever it might go. He went up several floors of creaky stairs until he arrived at the third floor. He passed by musty rooms with ancient beds until he came to a promising door. The stranger knocked ever so gently and the door squeaked and opened ajar. A sweet voice, barely a whisper, said “Please come in, whoever you are.” The stranger entered and took a seat but no one could he see. “I am here to find sweet Betsy and who might you be?” “I am Betsy, the last of this family line, and my husband was lost at sea; but you have a voice like his so might you perchance be he?” “I am indeed your husband David! After a terrible storm, wreck, and amnesia, I was destined to forever roam. I only knew by notes and letters how to find my way back home.” “David, my love, we should embrace but I am but a pitiful ghost. Every day from the Widow’s Walk above I scanned the sea for you, my dearest.” “After days and weeks and months, of grief and hunger I did die but please be welcome in our home and someday we’ll unite in the sky.” “Let me say these final words: Everything you love will be lost but all will return another way and our stars no longer will be crossed.” The big old house sits atop yonder hill guarding its history from curious eyes. But now we know it will live again with Betsy’s and David’s ties. (c) 2020 Larry Kilham |
