A magic carpet ride

 

“I do believe something very magical can happen when you read a book.”

~J.K. Rowling 

Oh, the historical, solid, cover-bound book!
Given a comfortable chair and good lighting,
Given few distractions,
Given books set beyond our own homes:
reading books can transport us into their stories.
A book in the hand is the main meal,
though we can learn to read and listen remotely.
For me, fiction and poetry are the magic carpets,
constructed to draw me in and keep me there.
Engaged by them for hours,
I skip meals, bedtime, and chores.
 
But O! modern applications for remote reading,
Kindle, Audible, and Libby—live on mobile cell phones—
a convenient home and a major distraction.
Almost anything that can be done on a computer
now travels in the palm of one hand.
Here distractions to reading are many
both in lively environments like buses and waiting rooms,
and on the device in email, texts, streaming, and calls.
This tiny device returns us to the present over and over,
as often as we allow it.  How hard to resist incoming alerts!
Demands of the present prevent the magic carpet ride. 

For Sumana's prompt on books, reading, and magic.

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright

© 2026 Susan L. Chast 

Ending the Drought

 

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When the rains came no one objected.
We had had two weeks of balmy weather
leading to an amazing election.
We enjoyed rain and victory together.
 
Trees, bushes, flowers, and grasses needed
gentle rain to end imminent drought in
the Northeast.  In addition, roadside dust
rose in blankets when we took an outing.
 
The election of pro-democracy
and pro-environment men and women
to roust republican policies will
end the drought of anything human.
 
In addition, we now have hope that we
can rescue our capital and nation
from an egotistical maniac’s
drive to destroy anything not about him. 

For Mary's Prompt "Write a poem using one or more of these words:  addition, subtraction, multiplication, division."

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright

© 2026 Susan L. Chast 

Blessings of 2050

 

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By 2050, if not sooner, health
care will be universal and elder
trees will have earned their rights to all land
their roots touch—globally—universally.
 
Trees remember how it used to be in
forests before massive logging.  People
in 2050, lean in to learn from these
elders.  Trees tell stories from what they know.
 
By 2050, if not sooner, people
will have an inviolable right to life,
liberty, and the pursuit of water.
We will learn to share clean water with all.
 
Water remembers how it used to thrive
In an undisturbed water cycle with-
out pollutants.  Water will partner with
people who defend and cherish its flow.
 
By 2050, if not sooner, clean
air will be available everywhere.
Industries will have tamed their emissions
with no cause nor profit more important.
 
Air remembers the inhale and exhale
of all land and sky life, and partners
with earth and water for the rest.  Air is
our ocean—humans walk in it daily.
 
By 2050, if not sooner, we
Will have recovered from ignorance and
shortsightedness.  We will grow backbone
and walk with local indigenous people.

 For Sherry's prompt "PICK A YEAR – ANY YEAR."

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright

© 2026 Susan L. Chast 

Where the Monsters Are

 

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Once upon a time, I knew that monsters
lived under my bed and in my closet,
They came out when we switched off the lights.
Wrapped in blankets and holding all limbs still,
I was safe.  And leaving one light on would
force the grizzly monsters to hide.  There came
a day when I scoffed at my fears, let the
presences go, and slept calmly in
domestic spaces. Still, fear of the dark
remains, and strange sounds quicken my heart.
 
Monster-like reactions rise when film sound plots
“work” on me.  Add melodramatic music
and panic rises.  Horror films like Jaws
bring back the danger of having exposed limbs. 
Add violence and killing, and I have to close
my eyes and cover my ears.  Given the power
of story to raise monsters, imagine the power
of reality.  News brings monsters home through
war, genocide, street fighting, and natural disasters. 
I fear the future if we cannot stop our monsters.

 

For my prompt "what you found 'spooky' or 'eerie'"

 My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright

© 2026 Susan L. Chast 

You are my rock

 

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When does a pebble or a stone become a rock?
When does a rock become a boulder or a mountain?
When did you become a rock in my life? 
Was it a build-up of little things or
a break down of massive things?
If I ever knew, I don’t remember now.
 
There is just the fact of you.
A rock like a tree—solid, reliable,
breathing strength as you have my back.
When I am with you, your hand often guides me,
and more often confirms my direction
as you have your own direction. 
 
I wonder If I am a rock for you? 
I think I am.  I know I can be:
a rock from breaking down massive things like war
and from the accumulation of fleeting things like smiles.
A double rock covered with bright green moss
that purrs when you are near.

 

 

Definition from Miriam Webster on-line:

4a: something like a rock in hardness, firmness, etc.:

(1): foundation, support  The superintendent describes [Michael] Doran as a rock on which the success of the school is and will continue to be built.—Henry County (Kentucky) Local

(2): refuge … a rock of independent thought … in an ocean of parochialism.—Thomas Molnar

 

For Sumana's prompt "Rock."

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright

© 2026 Susan L. Chast 

Finding the love song

 

🎜🎝🎶🎜🎝🎶🎜🎝🎶🎜🎝🎶 

 

Here I am.
It’s been a while.
That’s why my voice is distorted.
I’m looking for my vocal chords,
the ones that always made me feel (and sound) like song.
Now I’ll settle for poetry—
unrhymed, un-metered free verse—
(though you may discover a rhythm here if you read aloud).
I love because some force loves through me,
not from personal volition, though I hope love grows
the will to love against all odds.
Love as a gift, love as a benevolent weapon
against despair (both yours and mine).
The world has turned red hot,
while the earth still has a lot of green.
The green is the love that may quench the heat and flames
if we—if I—grow with it, go with it more of the time
in words as well as silence.
Once I find my vocal chords
I'll sing with a voice for love and peace--
I think I will, I know I will 
voice the spirit that moves through me
to inspire others as I have been moved.
 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright

© 2026 Susan L. Chast