I had two “news” poems – does it sound cheap to call them that? – published in Tuck Magazine a couple of weeks ago. Here is the first:
Some are content to sit and watch the world
burn from their bedrooms, minutely attuned to events
through secret channels. Others jam the streets
with indignation, shadowboxing power,
euphoric in their dissent. Others still observe
comfortable events unspool their destinies
as in a game of chess, eye cocked on the king
confined to his quadrant. One faulty move and
check – the pendulum begins its slow descent.
It was inspired by that fool president of ours holing up at his Florida resort while students were protesting the umpteenth school massacre out in the streets. Pendulums have a habit of swinging both ways eventually.