Metered Billing
Even the moon rues
its union with the Earth.
Inch by inch,
at the rate of a fingernail’s growth,
it’s creating ways
to glide away the same way
we would when someone sneezes
around our space.
But can you find that object’s decision
objectionable?
It gave us turning tides,
romantic nights,
mythos, poems,
and so many sonatas.
What did we give it
other than unwanted visits
on rockets
with all the intrusiveness
of prostate exams?
Knowing our fate,
around a billion years
from today’s date,
the moon and Earth will end up
being camp cakes
in rage-red flaming light,
but I doubt any rays
can make humanity enlightened.
Ever engaged in dim beliefs
about race, religion, gender,
and the rest,
mankind won’t become any brighter
when all its divisiveness
becomes as useless as lifeless lightbulbs.
~
find Bob’s new book here.
The moon as a camp cake. Love it! Bob McNeil did it again!
Mary Langer Thompson
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love Bob’s writing, so much emotion, and this one speaks to me of rage.
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Inspired. I’ve always liked this one.
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I am a fan of Bob’s poetry, writings, and his art! I love this poem. I like the descriptive words he uses in it. He has a way with words and I love that. He is very talented and gifted. This poem speaks volumes. Keep on writing, Bob! Thank you very much for sharing your poem with us!
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“Bob McNeil’s Metered Billing is a poignant meditation on humanity’s relationship with the natural world and itself. With vivid imagery and biting wit, McNeil contrasts the moon’s quiet, deliberate escape from Earth with humanity’s relentless capacity for intrusion and division. The poem artfully intertwines cosmic inevitabilities—such as the moon’s eventual separation and Earth’s fiery demise—with humanity’s enduring struggles with ignorance and prejudice. Through its lyrical cadence and incisive commentary, McNeil challenges readers to reflect on their place in a universe that offers beauty and wisdom, yet is often met with our own destructive tendencies. A thought-provoking and evocative piece.”~Maxwanette A Poetess aka Maxine A. Moncrieffe
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