My poetry

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The sun is cooking us.

Well, not really.

It’s the fossil fuel farts.

Hiding in the shadows above our heads.
Trapped under the skin of our small blue marble.

We breathe that air,
barely noticing the ironic results
of our willful ignorance.

They laugh when the sun hits deadly hydrocarbons.

They chuckle when
Mother Earth’s crust gets cooked.

And flooded.

And barren.

She will begrudgingly have the last laugh.

Like menopause—
the heat rises.

Glaciers melt.

Their weighted-blanket protection
thinning into torrential rivers.

This gives magma a chance to yawn.

Expanding beneath our one, single, solitary,
habitable blue marble—

like my feet on a 102-degree day.

She swells too,
liquid rock restless beneath her crust.

Today—

red, fiery eruptions
like explosive diarrhea
through the caldera floors
of Mount Etna,
Stromboli,
Great Sitkin,
and Kīlauea.

And also, forty others
around the world today.

When no crevices are found,
the magma pushes on.

Pushes and pushes.

Like a bulldozer
clearing the way.

Then the Earth quakes.

Indonesia.
Venezuela.
Colombia.
Mexico.
Japan.
Spain.

But maybe aliens
give us the temperature we want.

Or take us back
to a time when
we could still reverse course.

Maybe back when Carter warned us—
when the truth was inconvenient.

Or maybe they can just
push the Earth
into a new orbit—

680,000 miles farther away.

At 680,000 miles farther out,
maybe the Sun’s rays
won’t sting the skin as badly.

Maybe.

But the fossil farts
will still be there.

It’s delusional, right?

Do we need a miracle—

or a reality check?

Maybe the deniers will repent.

Fossil-fart makers might confess
they designed the deny-and-deflect plan.

Selling doubt.

Pimping oil.

It’s too late
for the trees already burned.

But the trees burned
because of their greed.

The stench of human suffering
will spare no one.

Those responsible
will not be able to flee

the air

they cooked up
for us to breathe.

© 2026 Elizabeth McDargh (08-15-2026)

I want to have a voice—

A voice that calms,

that soothes,

that cools tempers,

inspires the muse,

shines rays over the downcast.

I want to have a voice—

A voice that inspires

and opens the heart,

that melts prejudice

to only act to protect and respect,

that nurtures confidence lost.

I want to have a voice—

A voice that makes my heart remember

its first contraction

and the loving womb where I came from;

that guides my steps

even when the fog blocks

the flicker of light

illuminating the path ahead.

I want a voice—

That resonates

at a high energy level

with the angels;

that shines on tarnished memories,

dissolves angry thoughts,

washes away the hurt

and tormented visions,

shrinks shame

and regret.

I want a voice

so empowered

and capable

that it can—

and willingly does—

transmute the sounds

of willful ignorance

into waves

of heartfelt action.

That’s the voice I want.

Elizabeth McDargh, 2026

I can’t wait for the epidemic of kindness— 

a pandemic of goodwill.

That moment when real Southern hospitality arrives 

in the Northern hemisphere, 

hugging us with Midwest kindness.

If we must wear a mask, I hope it is filled 

with Wisconsin’s neighbor-to-neighbor energy, 

and Minnesota Nice is in the fabric.

I want our bones to feel the no-nonsense 

kindness of Iowa, Nebraska, and the Dakotas. 

May it become our daily constitutional walk.

I hope our symptoms include Louisiana’s charm and kindness. 

I want window and balcony cheering—grace—in surround sound.

Oh, I can’t wait for the day 

aloha is the ocean we swim in, 

and everything around us 

resonates with the simple truth: 

each one of us is a blessing to the other.

Elizabeth McDargh, 2026

El mundo es complejo

Cuando uno se pone a contemplar.

La complejidad del ser humano

Se encuentra en su abilidad de cuestionar.

Pero esta libertad no bien utilizada

Puede destruir nuestra sensibilidad.

La sensibilidad que poseemos dentro del alma,

Dentro de nuestra gran humanidad.

No debemos tomar por ley toda dicha palabra

Sino preguntar sobre su validad.

Debemos encontrar su proposito final

En este blanco y negro mundo de la oscura realidad.

Tenemos la abilidad de pensar y de razonar…

Podemos preguntar, enfocar, y progresar.

Por que entonces debemos pelear?

Pelearnos con otros,

Ajenos y cercanos,

Pelearnos, con hermanos…

Es cuestion, me supongo, de preguntar y escuchar,

De querer ayuda,r, y de querer vivir en paz.

Cuando nos pongamos de Nuevo a contemplar

Podremos ver que el mundo es simple en realidad!

Elizabeth McDargh, 1986

Translation

The World Is Simple

The world is complex when one contemplates it.

The complexity of the human being is found in their ability to question.

But this freedom not well utilized can destroy our sensibility.

The sensibility that we posses within our soul

…..within our great humanity.

We should not take as law all spoken word.

… but to ask its final purpose.

In this white and black world of dark reality

we have the ability to ask, focus and improve.

Why then do we have to fight?

To fight with others…

….remote and near.

To fight, with brothers…

It is a mater, I suppose, of asking and listening,

To want to help, and to want to live peacefully.

When we once again contemplate our role

…we will see that the world is really simple.

Elizabeth McDargh, 1986

 I look at you and know friendship

I see through you and find honesty

I look beyond you and see your true nature.

I walk beside you and feel respect.

Within the hourglass of life,

We meet some very special people,

Those that leave an everlasting impression,

And those that become lifelong friends.

The sand falls telling time,

All following the same direction.

They feel prisoner of their own race,

Wanting to enjoy, like others, the sea.

Sea and Sun, two lifelong friends,

Know each other as well as one another.

Together merge as Sun descends

See their respect, ambition, honesty, friendship,

The Hourglass is now one.

Elizabeth McDargh

December 82

Not too long ago,

I met this very old man.

He was in a wheel-chair

And looked quite unhappy.

I smiled…

Suddenly his eyes sparkled.

He smiled back.

I walked up to him

And he thanked me.

For what I asked?

For giving him something he needed… Love.

Later that evening I went to my friends house.

As she opened the door she smiled.

I smiled too.

We talked and laughed…

And when I was leaving I thanked her.

For what she asked?

For being very special to me… My Friend.

When I went home and started to write this poem,

I smiled and thanked God.

For what you ask?

For giving us the gift of friendship and Love,

And a smile to show we care no matter what.

Elizabeth McDargh

1987

If one should ponder a minute 

one could find that 

one still has time to do 

one extra great task in this life. 

If one could qualify this journey through life 

one would find that 

one has yet time to make better 

one more thing in this life. 

If one would examine this behavior 

one will find that 

one still has time to make smile 

one more man, woman, or child. 

If one should think some time 

one could find that 

one would not be, but 

one will become at last more than one. 

Elizabeth  McDargh 

April 1987 

Me supongo la paradoja del hombre

Se encuentra en la ironia de su vida.

Yo pienso, a veces sola,

Que el hombre vive…

…pero no da vida.

A veces nos creemos tan superiors,

Que nos olvidamos de nosotros mismos.

Es el agonista contra el protagonista.

Los que pelean por creer, y los que

Creen por pelear.

Y asi me supongo

Seguiremos nuestra vidas enteras.

Luchando con othros mediate palabra…

O Madera.

Porque cada hombre que empieze a pensar

Encontrara, como yo,

Que es ridiculo el luchar.

Me supongo que despues de siglos

De luchar, no vamos a cambiar.

Pero si yo con estas simple palabras

Puedo hacerte a ti pensar,

Ya he consequido mas

Que ellos con su pelear.

Elizabeth McDargh, 1986

Translation

Think

I suppose the paradox of man

Is found in the irony of his life.

I think, sometimes alone,

That man lives...

...but does not give life.

Sometimes we believe ourselves so superior

That we forget ourselves.

It is the antagonist against the protagonist.

Those who fight to believe, and those who

Believe to fight.

And so I suppose

We will continue our whole lives.

Fighting with others through words...

Or might.

Because every man who begins to think

Will find, like me,

The ridiculously of fighting.

I suppose that after centuries

Of struggle, we will not change.

But if I, with these simple words,

Can make you think,

I have already achieved more

Than they have with their fighting.

Elizabeth McDargh, 1986

Listen to the wind

And from its tales learn.

Look above the sky, and

Without opening your eyes

Can you tell who you are? Were?

See what lies ahead of you,

What crosses your path.

What have you learned?

Reaching your goals was your ambition

But such are dreams we have.

Will you try over and over, again?

Be proud of what and who you are,

Strive to reach the calmness,

That which comes before the storm.

Only you can change what is wrong, so 

Accept your mistakes, make them your last.

It will be tough; a test for your soul

‘cause fighting the storm is not an easy task.

Elizabeth McDargh

December 82.