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Poetry of 2006/07 by Donna Flood
Impressions


Strange how time turns like a whirlwind
Sucking every particle up, once and again.
A turning away from heavier substances,
To lighter ranges of differences.
Pick up what is new and mix
Everything together like a fix
For furthering this or that cause,
And we quite accept without pause.
None of the old ones in prayer
Comes over the mike from the grayer
Headed wisdom of that folk
In Ponca language no longer spoke.
Where are the old ways we loved
Kissed by strength and love?
I shed a tear to see it go,
When did it happen? Iíll never know.
The grand entry is laced with flags,
Little children seem to be drags
Of demand and crying faces
 From some other races.
I know how they feel,
I didnít cry, too steel.
But the slap was there,
Stay little half, in your chair.
Even a joke was from the m.c.
At the expense of grandma's knee.
So rifts the flow of impression,
And that ends this session.


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