UNDER a GREY SKY
Julia Ferrari
Trees sway under a grey sky
Wind pushing leaves
Cooled by shade
Light and dark all day
I hear my voice softly even-ing out.
Smoothing out its tensions,
Its fears.
The path as tightly wound as the brittle ice
That surrounded me,
Inched me in,
Almost ended me.
But now snows have melted
And the fragile world has thawed
Turning shades of pale and deepening green
Covering every inch in vibrating textures
gently moving
gently alive.
Julia Ferrari
( © 6/14/18)
Listening to vibrations
Charles Monette
eight suns equal releases in an instant
shockwave spreading
spreading out from two black holes merging
signal sent seven billion years ago
rattling laser detectors
LIGO VIRGO’s super-sensitive-gravitational-wave-detection-system
gravity’s pull so strong
matter had collapsed on itself
now nothing, not even light escaped
formation unknown
some billions of times the mass of our sun
picked up by influencing their surroundings
7 billion years ago,
two black holes in their end stage moments
spiraled inward to collide
earthlings picked it up
detected a faint blip from space
lasting 1/10 of a second… a split second
dead stars demising in space,
out beyond the known dark
‘bout 150 billion trillion kilometers away… faraway
a quirk, a quark, a quantum leap… a question
ripples from the death of a star
laser light disturbs their waves emitted
Einstein relatively thrilled, enchanted
laser interferometer instruments listening for vibrations
hearing a beep let go allegro 7 billion years hence
our red and blue holes collapse on themselves
hear the streets’ vibrations
needing light to escape
Facetime goodbye
Charles Monette
Mom spirited “the lady of the Lamp” for 37 years
white on white uniform, “doing the sick no harm”
immaculate… always on time
Loved to waltz with dad
gliding, weaving arm ‘n arm ‘round the floor
at Roseland…
So many years ago…
her smile would light his eyes
his eyes would smile back
Now her living was assisted; gentle help
to get along at Bradley house
dad’s eyes had closed long ago
One day, a quiet invasion turned upheaval
staff and nurses running ‘round spellbound
locking up, locking down
A virus had hitchhiked on a suitcase
multiplied, spread amok, all the rage
temperatures rising
Mom caught a chill, then a fever
coughs followed, continued,
soon shortness of breath
They drove her to the hospital in the ambulance
she wondered why all the fuss
“just a cold, or my allergies”
Mom’s breathing labored thru the night
decision was made to intubate
breathing in, mechanically deep, breath out weakened
“We’ll make her comfortable,
check her pulse,”
nurse’s red puffy eyes ended her shift
An hour later Abby called, “your mom is failing, best get down here”
rushed, run, rushed in, stopped by the glass… by the door
“you can’t go in hon, can’t risk the spread…”
“If you want, you can call her on the phone,
You know, Facetime,
I’ll hold the phone up close
Would she like some music?”
“Well, it’s funny, but she loves Joan Baez singing
Dylan’s, “Sad eyed lady of the lowlands”, it’s a waltz
Can you hold her hand?
brush her hair… while I talk
Tell her I love her, things are gonna be okay
Mom, it’s me
Sorry, I can’t get closer
I love you mom
I love you now
Love you all these years
You are such a good mom
Mom? Mom…
Mom, I love you”
*** play ‘Sad eyed lady of the lowlands’ Joan Baez singing Dylan
A Gift for the Season
Jeri Rose
If God reveal to you
how holy Being creates
what you know
as reality so you
can see even your sight
is creation all part
of making happening
in time you are in
though no time relevant
to that revelation.
Does your breath intake
a gasp? Your heart
beat firmer for awe
an electric neural net
activate in your skin?
Your personal recognition
of unity in a floor underfoot
and all around
and even the air between
nothing outside
the balm of spirit
bathes you forever.
‘Boy child’
Charles Monette
fishermen of Peru & Ecuador first named him
unusually warm waters disrupted their catch
he would come every two to seven years near the religious holiday,
stay for 9 to 12 months… a ‘boy child’ who warmed the waters
as if the sea had a fever in the central & eastern tropical
Pacific Ocean… above-average oscill ocean warming
low level surface winds, easterly winds… weakening
at times blowing the other direction… westerly winds
normally cool water was nutrient rich, (plankton, krill, sardines)
supporting diverse marine ecosystems… fishermen’s fisheries
sea lions basked in the warm sun, wind and water ‘round Palomino Island
till a little boy swam them away to higher trophic levels of a food chain
fish too dispersed, swam to cold… to follow their food beyond Lima…
fishermen’s nets emptied… the boy child wet, wild, unwont, unruly again
El Nino is his name…he came at Christmas, tepefying sea-air coupling,
playfully unleashing food chains in the deeps of the Eastern Pacific
hands stirred, softening oscillation’s inertia …upwelling phytoplankton,
depriving zooplankton of its food, flattening the thermocline
presaging large scale changes in sea level pressure
across Indonesia, Australia, and the tropical Pacific
Nino’s tongue sprayed the bounding main to heaven; trench waters rose to drench, return a verdict of torrential rains over northern mountains
mudslides followed
drought sucked dry the land that rains had left behind
NOAA’s buoys among boys measure temperature, assay currents,
gauge the wind across the equatorial band
7,471 scientists agree: the boy child will come again, Phi spirals will warm waters, fish will fish elsewhere, man will wonder & wallow in mud
Look for El Nino, the ‘boy child’, Christmas 2020
Encase the world in iron
Charles Monette
Encase the world in iron
our lungs on life support
widespread deforestation
ashens widespread desolation
widespread, why Bernie’ d say, “that’s HUGE”!
raging fires ignite bitter disputes
humans bellow-blame-flames… deniers loot
international crisis… quick convene the gang of 7
distill Macron hysteria, ‘raise a glass, give a toast to heaven’
we’ll talk after lunch… of oranges
why this is preposterous, sensationalist,
exaggerated environmental collusion
wildfires up 84% ‘cross a once great Brazilian nation
still ranchers denude, farmers’ clear-cut profits soybean cultivation
burns like a panic… this widespread climate collusion
Amazon, (not talkin .com), gave 20% of Earth’s oxygen
now dioxide’s absorption drains down a leaking carbon sink
shall we disrupt commercial interests? earmarked sustainability?
or just encase the world in iron to increase longevity
not fearing waters’ heights, just widespread calamity
A robot picked my strawberry today
Charles Monette
A robot picked my strawberry today
grasping light brown hands slid into irrelevance
the robot’s squeeze was uniformly gentle
clean and fast and antiseptic
a light brown heart was bruised today
maybe there’s work among asparagus
drinking water with the almonds
gathering ‘neath a sun-brimmed hat another day
embracing the land of free possibility
its cost too dear to know
a robot picked my hope today
grasping hands slid without relevance
And still
Phil Innes
spitting snow
right into the eye
immediate
not nearly a courtship
direct
far before thought
afore flirting
not heavy heated russian romantic snow
with massive chords
nor pragmatic
vermont economies
though through eyes
which witnessed
way back
somehow a surviving
memory and pattern and
surviving innocence
and still an option
and still
Kairos
Phil Innes
Thus from faint, a stance
The card of the Sun
And again by Moon’s inchoate fonts
Again by Twenty One
Cracking reasons’ strangling charm
Let fall more cards
Let sound dextrous alarums
Ultima thule
Charles Monette
somewhere out beyond Pluto
at the canescent center of stars
clumping marbles compact to ride on wind
man does a fly-by of purest exploration
precious data beaming
astrophysicists’ agog as if it were the clue
who/what are you?
bowling pin gone, snowman of the galaxies
hurtling asteroids stuck together
Ultima & thule, NASA’s named you
static electricity, gas & space dried mire
sucked in a vast vacuum
two spheric lobes combed together
farthest, oldest cosmic body
reflecting light like garden dirt’s dusty miller
New Horizons’ icy beyond distant suns
white glove smooths over empyrean’s window sill
dust jacket removed
just 4.5 billion years ago, a cloud of frozen pebbles conjoining
slow motioning slow, resting on each other
somewhere beyond Pluto
Walls Have Ears
Alan Rayner
Walls have ears
I’ve heard it said -
An inner sensitivity
That reaches down to subatomic core
Far beneath their superficial hardness
Where silence calls
In endless refrain
To heed its deep-felt yearning
Behind the din of every thing
We too have ears
With which to hear this inner, noiseless calling
Beneath the clamour of everyday demand
For our attention
Whether we hear the silence or the racket
Or both within each other’s reach
Depends on whether we use our ears
Partially or fully -
Or block them off
Behind a wall of self-sealed privacy
That chooses not to care for them
a rainbow swirling jet stream
Charles Monette
a rainbow swirling jet stream
whirling light green yellow, pink and blue
turning, pointing on the periphery of ocean warming…
a gurge twirling at center stage
atmosphere’s steering currents swerve…misbehave
disrupting weather extremes, supercharging the climate of change
slower jet stream slows, resulting in more wavy peaks and troughs
extreme jet stream patterns resonate with quasi-amplification
driven by temperature contrasts, ever-shrinking contrasts
deep excursions south of summer collide cool-air, outpour rain’s nimiety
altered stream retreating north forms hot heat bulging domes
last summer’s record heat …and dry spells
Argo-floats mirror oceans soaking up excess heat in murkiness
startling studies require an aggressive mitigation fleet
coloring coral reefs in tropics, Greenland and Antarctica ice sheets
warming exponentially…. Doctor Livingstone, I presume?
now a rainbow swirling jet stream starts, stops, splits
a narrow meandering current of air flowing fast in various directions
systems stream, flow & vanish from Saskatoon to St. John’s Bay
our earth set to warm even faster than predicted
[image: Lilly Pulitzer ‘Jetstream’]
You Can’t Do That
Charles Monette
infowars spout conspiracy
new broad brands of bigotry
go on ban me, I’ll sell survival gear
to help you live next year in fear
but baby, you can’t do that
free speech baby, I’m selling potent testosterone
take it to the dance, you’ll need a chaperon
heh be careful, be wary of ‘ploying your snuff
okay joker, my base be buying some more stuff
a timeworn populist tactic, rant & rave, soothe the static, create havoc
why not tube it?
chance a book thrown in your face ‘a glitter
twitch until you twitter,
lookout gawker, best surveil all that you can see
extreme unction, proper-gander, amidst the fakery
make some money, always aim to make more money
watch out cause media will dip & flip & lie honey
please behave, come on, comply to the universal standards
be not a haggard, nor a laggard, who staggered in the ballad
baby, you can’t do that
far-right fellows hitchhike aimless through the galaxy
twisting truth, make up laughing what they want to see
opaque-hungry, hateful mongers, power stuff our voting booths
google smiles, threats some fines, hides ‘hind a gap tooth
who’s to edit in the sky? oh baby, you can’t do that
hell to swelter
Charles Monette
a snowball from hell freezes the Senate floor
fake climate antagonists’ jigs up, cold once more
fossil fuel industries outspend clean energies
tis the season of significant melting
windows of the firmament allow rain from the sky
rogue icebergs calve, tsunamis wave high
Greenpeace glides o’er earth’s gases green
go forth man… resurface the earth and subdue it
Celsius meets Fahrenheit, blacktop bubbles dry
Chino, California 120.2 degrees, climate’s corpus delicti
hectares burn, polly ‘ticians still spurn
extreme heat stuns nations… Japan to Norway
compost gets lost ‘midst organic renewal
god’s spirit dances, waters’ face flows cruel
7th day’s rest awakens to let there be light…
warmer air, drier land warns somethin’ ain’t right
scorching heatwaves’ droughts, floods, fires throughout
‘that ain’t cool’, heaven’s sapphire shouts…
even Plato’s cave offers little reprieve
All in the plan, this land was made for you and me
to Mother Teresa
András Adorján
’92. máj. 15.
Thank You God Who Lives Inside Us
Thank God, thank you Kubát János
And all of living and dead idols
Thanks for Gandhi, Barcza, Liszt
All the muses’ inspiring kiss
Thank You for my troubles, misery
Thank You for the pushes towards humility
Forgive me for being just a man, silly
You’ve created me this way, (can’t) You see?
Thanks for crushing my vanity, pride
In return I got a humble heart
Let me be worthy just once more or say twice
Let me be sincere, confident, nice
Let me radiate your shining inner light
When our Father Sun is out of sight
Let me be your instrument, please
Play your melody through sinful me
Let others receive your call by me too
Let me join your Army of Peace, would You?
Put down the sword of the anger, we’re blue
Do not punish us, yourself Our Father of truth (You true)
Yes, you heard it well, we’re really you
Who created who how could we knew?
There’s no telling, there’s no proof
Who is us (and) who are you
[editorial note: the writer is a chess grandmaster and candidate world champion, resident in Budapest, Hungary]
I set myself afire
Charles Monette
On David Buckel
like a black gold gushers first appearance
oozing inhabitability via air, soil, water and weather
I set myself afire
like a Vietnamese Buddhist monks meditative protest
immolating the ravages of war
I seek to ignite awareness
Most humans now breathe air unhealthy
unthinking corporate fossil fuels enrich the wealthy
I combust to grow the green
Prospect Park, yesterdays headline blazes
remember my arguing LGBTQ landmark cases
now alls left my coaly ashes
I volunteered for an added value community farm
coordinated for senior organics recovery
I plead our only planet, do no harm
my early death reflects many early deaths
what are we doing to ourselves?
pollution ravages we burn like savages
I am David, some say my death is heartbreaking
my suicide note? A hopefully earthshaking
my final flame breathtaking
I am a symbol burned to Prospect dust
my call to humanity, I felt I must
I set myself afire
Reportage below by Carla Herrerie, Queer Voices, Huffington Post
David Buckel, a prominent LGBTQ civil rights attorney, fatally set himself on fire at Prospect Park in Brooklyn, New York, early Saturday morning, April 14th, 2018. Â He was 60 years old.
In a suicide note left near his body, David said he had used a fossil fuel to ignite the fire and wanted his death to symbolize what humans are doing to earth.
Pollution ravages our planet, oozing inhabitability via air, soil, water and weather. Most humans on the planet now breathe air made unhealthy by fossil fuels, and many die early deaths as a result my early death by fossil fuel reflects what we are doing to ourselves.
Rest in peace David Buckel
I’ll stay here till I get here
Charles Monette
fingers on strings,
low E and high
note holding on till it’s gone
fretting a left hand
strumming, back beating the right
slow motions getup, magic in sight
moving from outside
a sound hole in the center
touching composition, no impedimenta
strings ring, sounds sing
badges of callused tips repetitious
attack the dance, let go of cautious
if you hear it’s off thru a tap of the floor
find a grin in your grimace, now close the door
pickup & pick it, play guitar once more
backbeat now, E & A’s humming combine
bass coming back to a ‘fore-mentioned-line
as you strum, use your thumb ain’t it fine
I’ll stay here till I get here… just
learning the action, playing what will be
whatever checks out doesn’t belong to me
Untitled
Phil Innes
No more black nights on
Forgotten promontories
Other vigilance
Whither the Storm?
Todd Vincent Crosby
When warmth gives way to bracing wind
and sun’s fair gaze has turned away,
gather the net, prepare to fend the
craft from Triton’s chilling fray.
Starboard, windward, port or lee?
Which quarter now commands our gaze?
Shall turbulence deny us now
deliberate passage of the days?
Trade comfort of the stoney heath
for chance among the rolling fetch,
Free of tender love and restless grief
Hope and hunger a ceaseless catch
Autumn’s veil conceals not fear nor sorrow
yet cleanses away a soul's dark night,
That dawn deliver on the morrow
a crescendo… winter’s blinding light!
75 at tea
Todd Vincent Crosby
a fine grit covers this shabby old couch
pouffing up as i plop my fat ass down on it
its grey green canvas, dusty as my skin now
replete with the troughs of old age
i lean my head back finding that old familiar indentation
And you are there before me,
infinite in your youth, tangled hair a mess
energetic, so full of life‘s timeless beauty.
we whisper sun dappled oaths barefoot in the orchard,
a full moon and its crickets bearing us good fortune.
whatever the future would withhold from us
it could never deny us laughter
Yet all too soon mischievous minstrels found willing ears
to woo us
with promises of hotter tropics
and bluer seas.
But how could the skies have been
bluer than those we had reveled beneath?
or another ocean
contain the immensity of our joy?
Indeed these long years, laughter was not denied me
echoing off these farmhouse walls
evening, morning, noon and night
the laughter of children… of family… of friends.
What wouldn’t i give to walk again with you
dottering down this misty country lane, leaning in close
sharing a knowing glance
a chuckle at some private, distant joke.
Under the moody November twilight
your blue teapot perched on my plant stand
a steaming, fat, blue parrot
Miles and Coltrane suspended in vapor
I hope that life has brought laughter
to your house… upon your loves
and that you have not lived with desire
to rewrite the drama of life’s final act.
Such a sweet melancholy to see you again in all your glory,
before i knew you were to be gone so soon.
i smile, assured that if that moon, and those crickets
had spoken true,
you would have loved living in this old house
peaceful and solid,
infused with scents of leather and bergamot
with me savoring the chilly evening that once left me shuttering
an opportune moment for a steamy cup of tea!
Walking… Thinking… Talking… Singing…
playing with my dog
even if the dust has gotten
a tiny bit out of hand.
All souls’ elegy
Charles Monette
unbearable dreams… all the departed were present
wild and wanton, their spirits gasping the air
the eve of All Souls’ Day, dreaded beliefs recurring
as mirrors imitate the wintry grey of bones
passing graveyards dark silhouette
death’s acceptance rejected anew
wandering souls searching the wind
disrespect running deep in the ground
to be thus remembered under a gloomy November moon
rain falling, rituals’ rabble rife
dry water’s life splattered o’er remains
meaning gone from the garden’s grow
genteel blathering clouding memories…
yet a distant time, a distant place draws near
moans of the dying congeal sedulously
muffling the striking of a pitch-black clock
years passed along with days
troubled souls seeking marigolds, the sweet bread of the dead
unsettled aching in the hereafter
a patch of pain, regret… why, why, why
tonight…walk the road’s center… beware of encouraging the dust
of disturbing phantoms’ shadows resting alongside
for peripheral chills will envelop one’s spine… raising hackles
flashing terror’s mischief, a spur to run
eerie echoes, otherworldly rattles lack relevance… yet
add to the scare of the chase… catching up… falling behind
running off, outracing grown up ghosts
traditions slipping, screaming for a delicate plain
daring in daylight
hurrying back to bury somebody at the cemetery’s edge
perhaps a priest’s prayer will banish ghostly faces
exhorting them to their place… to await midnight’s exhumation
lopsided red-streaked-gray marble, water and a candle
an oblong tombstone’s engraving chiseled out
nameless as an unknown soldier’s
epitaph shrouded in secrets
stumbling bones stuck in mud’s asylum
hungry ghosts grabbing, unwrapping life’s promise once more
disappointments’ confusion leaving the marrow of emptiness
as if fine one moment and dead the next
[A note on the image]
Aladar Korosfoi-Kriesch
All Souls' Day --1910 Oil on canvas, 51,5 x 72,5 cm
Hungarian National Gallery, Budapest
(It is a Hungarian tradition to go to cemeteries to honor the dead)
You cancelled your vacation
Charles Monette
you cancelled your vacation, said it was a waste of time
you didn’t ask me to come along, so I didn’t cancel mine
said you’d rather go to the carbon conference
though a governor on your pedal slowed deliverance
a pick-up artist curing smelly compost on the curb
you lost your drive, now drive less… unperturbed
two times a week buys pricey green organic groceries
take a bean, walk a block… second hand store sells ivories
recycle that glass… that plastic… redeem it like never before
hey reuse it, refuse it, metamorphose into a see-through door
all that garbage… all that trash… all that shit galore
soon be floating… polluting… Cousteau’s ocean floor
take your time, saunter slinky as you walk away
look back once, close your eyes as if to say
a shake, a shrug, a pissed off tattoo demeanor
should’ve fought to hold you, found two words, ‘I love Lena’
out of this world, you were trippin out my world
neither differences genteel, non commutable…nor easily unfurled
Cape bikin, Maine coast traipsin,… old friends lyin on a windswept beach
hot sands’ blain, hidin out in Cockaigne… never within reach
dancing-dizzy, spinning, whirli-gigging love’s confusion
falsetto-falling, famished on brink’s recision
white flag surrender comes to you wide-open
as in a gray love story filmed by Bergman
Malvern Hill
Charles Monette
It was the sixth and last of seven days
The battle for Malvern Hill, July 1st, 1862
McClellan and Lee locked horns in Herrico County
Virginia… up a piece from Poindexter’s farm
Disjointed assaults on the nearly impregnable Union position
Yanks up on Malvern Hill, the favorable ground
Slopes cleared of lumber, greater visibility downhill
Lee orders attacks directly… instead of flanking…
Artillery would clear the way…
Tragic miscalculation
Deadly fire rained thunder down on the Confederates,
Slaughtering them in their charge
5,300 rebel casualties without gaining an inch of ground
Blue bled too… 8,500 in all
Despite the victory, McClellan withdrew
To Harrison’s landing on the James River
Gunboats now protected his army
Malvern Hill lay soaked in blood, pockmarked
Bodies lying there still
[The image: Watercolor by Sneden]
Cicero's Hands
Mike Murray
A man of letters, a man of riches
He didn't have to burn those bridges
He lived and played with the men who held the sword
There was safety, but there was right
And in the stillness of the night
In the troubled times, his hands held only words
CICERO'S HANDS HANG IN THE FORUM
CICERO'S HANDS -- A GENERAL'S WARNING
ARE YOU PREPARED TO PAY THE PRICE FOR TAKING A STAND?
FEAR AND TREMBLING IN THOSE HOURS
TELLING THE TRUTH ABOUT A MAN OF POWER
WHEN YOU TURN THAT BRIDGE TO BURN, THINK OF CICERO'S HANDS
Asma's poem defied the danger
She warned, "Why mind this stranger?"
The stranger claimed to speak God's voice alone
Then the voice commanded slaughter
"Who will rid me of Marwan's daughter?"
When it's time to speak your mind, think of Asma's poem
There's big payback to check out
You're gonna end up sticking your neck out
When your life is on the line, you're all alone
When you call for folks to ponder
The crimes of those they honor
When you turn that bridge to burn think of Asma's poem
CHORUS
In their hearts, your words rings true
But they'll still come for you
When they hear the big man say you ought to be banned
All those battles to be won
Will they mean much when you're gone?
When you turn, that bridge to burn think of Cicero's hands
CHORUS
When it's your turn, your bridge to burn think of Cicero's hands
When it's time to speak your mind, think of Cicero's hands
When it's your turn, your bridge to burn, think of Cicero's hands
published with permission, copyright 2017 Mike Murray
overflowingly so
Charles Monette
thoughts dying in clouds
focus within reach
abruptly pushed over edge
thoughts wander, wonder over water
never landing
burning out
cosmic relatedness
all relates to all after all
random stirrings of memory
mind soaring, soaring beyond
imagination gliding
a splash of color scalds the earth
inspiration’s shaking foundations
stirring up rough dirt
far flung falling… an abysmal feeling
unreliable winds pelting exalted thoughts
blowing tree tops… life’s fluctuating fray
jump startled by thunder’s explosive cracks
vaulting over reckless danger
assiduously revised
I come to you… a spur to writing
Other voices
Charles Monette
March winds have quieted
Too soggy to blow
They sigh away to churn the sea
Listening for words of beauty
Some never heard before
Looking, hearing for a different way
Forsythia’s early yellow
Bell-shaped flowers, shrubs of an Olive family
Offer easy to appreciate full throttled blooms
Counting on spring to lift the gloom
Renew assurance with each green grass blade
It’s a young loving time of year
Moody moods’ last brood dissipates
To a chickadee’s call
Rivers swell muddy with snow’s last white
Something to remember me by
Winter’s baton passes grudgingly
Robins perch proudly, atomic tangerine
Did we expect any other?
Coming down with the rain
Wet showers circling… soaking a tree
Lichen brighten, stamp okay
Blue purple crocus open to day
This spring’s beauty ever slightly unlike
Venus Smiled
Charles Monette
3 straight years, Earth is getting hotter
3 records set in a row
NOAA cooking the books
NO Antartic, Artic melting away
Chinese plot… I think not… do they want waterproof?
feel the swelter, helter skelter… Phalodi… Africa 123.8 degrees
drought, starvation,… no water to grow to drink
emissions of heat trapping gases, greenhouse gases
carbon monoxide
planetary warning planetary warming
threat to the natural world
El Nino swoops in… hot energy, water vapors release
2016 the hottest year 3 straight records in a row
trouncing past records, rising temperatures warm the globe
our constantly changing planet
Artic oceans 20-30 degrees above normal last Fall
seas ice sunset
startlingly rapid coastal erosion
some connectivity… an accelerated era
hot data records 3rd straight in a row
do you feel it?
water
cold water, hot water, no water, high waters, waterboarding
water color, waterfowl, waterway, waterworks, waterlogged
water pollution, waterproof, waterfront, waterfall
watertight, water under the bridge, water cannon
water wiping out the bridge Waterloo, water,
water everywhere, nary a drop to drink
war-uh, watery, water
water
