Things were picking up with the frack drilling for natural gas and the pumping of waste frack water back into the ground when earthquakes started shaking the dream.
with unshaken convictions here
on faultless ground
in the Shenango Valley
one peaceful day
by a sharp shock
sounding as if a dynamite charge
went off in Marcellus Shale country
causing our homes to shake
for some unsettling moments.
We absorbed this foreign sensation
some of us thinking we
were under nuclear attack,
the ground shook and we
jiggled apprehensive in our couches,
remarking, "What the hell is this?"
Our foundations were tested sorely
by the jolt measuring 4.0
on the Richter Scale.
We suffered this weird phenomenon
along our way to Destiny.
Just when Destiny smiled on our valley
and we anticipated
becoming the next Saudi Arabia
our homes becoming mansions,
our cars would be junked for BMWs,
we were tasting a lunch of
salmon filet with white wine;
just when a spectacular dawn
was lighting up
our brushy horizon,
BANG!
Oh well,
we returned to our couches to sit
with our unshaken convictions
on faultless ground in the silence
of our pretty streets,
and eat tuna casserole,
and shop at Aldi's,
and read the want ads,
back with the rich equilibrium
of a bowl of savory broth
ripples faded,
shaken, not stirred.
pjk
Poetry by Peter J. Kautsky
Read 619 times
Written on 2012-02-07 at 21:03
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Shaken, Not Stirred
We were jolted while recliningwith unshaken convictions here
on faultless ground
in the Shenango Valley
one peaceful day
by a sharp shock
sounding as if a dynamite charge
went off in Marcellus Shale country
causing our homes to shake
for some unsettling moments.
We absorbed this foreign sensation
some of us thinking we
were under nuclear attack,
the ground shook and we
jiggled apprehensive in our couches,
remarking, "What the hell is this?"
Our foundations were tested sorely
by the jolt measuring 4.0
on the Richter Scale.
We suffered this weird phenomenon
along our way to Destiny.
Just when Destiny smiled on our valley
and we anticipated
becoming the next Saudi Arabia
our homes becoming mansions,
our cars would be junked for BMWs,
we were tasting a lunch of
salmon filet with white wine;
just when a spectacular dawn
was lighting up
our brushy horizon,
BANG!
Oh well,
we returned to our couches to sit
with our unshaken convictions
on faultless ground in the silence
of our pretty streets,
and eat tuna casserole,
and shop at Aldi's,
and read the want ads,
back with the rich equilibrium
of a bowl of savory broth
ripples faded,
shaken, not stirred.
pjk
Poetry by Peter J. Kautsky
Read 619 times
Written on 2012-02-07 at 21:03
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