Doomsday Preparation

when the rebellion is over
and those who would save us
have been exiled by our petulant leaders,
armed with their dubious rationales,

when our culture is in ruins,
the land a scar, the rebels
billows of ash and dust,
the grid gone, the fuses worthless,

I will dart for my underground shelter,
latch the lead-lined doors,
and surround myself with the metallic
staccato of my typewriter

and write a poem before I die

/ / /

This poem was written in response to Wordle 42 at The Sunday Whirl.

27 thoughts on “Doomsday Preparation

  1. Oh yes, please do. Will it be filled with sadness, or joy? This poem makes me sad, but somehow gives me hope, too. The sound of the typewriter echoes in emptiness, you gave it life.


  2. You used the words wonderfully. I also associated “staccato” with typewriter. I guess I would like to do exactly the same. Good to see you, Richard.


  3. Nicely done, Richard!

    And of course you will latch those lead-lined doors and write a poem. I would, too! But I better find a typewriter. My computer probably won’t work in a shelter.


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