Papers, etc.
Poe-uh-try —- must be read in Cartman’s voice.
For my poetry class this semester, I had to write … a lot… This is not something that I expect or wished to participate in. I am NOT a creative thinker (is that concept ironic when mentioned as part of a blog?). Regardless. I have some stuff. I am going to share it here.
Also, I have not given my “work” titles for the most part. That makes me just like Shakespeare, non?
Some poetry
Driving back from some appointment,
You sat in the back of the car.
I say car, but in the way pop applies
To all varieties of soda. The difference exists.
It was one of those gigantic, gas-guzzling SUVs.
And, see, that matters. There you were, in the back,
Safe in a rear-facing child seat. Me, the parent, in front.
What was the distance between? Four feet? Six?
The tears streamed down my face.
All I wanted was to hear one word: mama.
The tears stream down my face.
All I want is to hear “mama”
Poem #2
An elegy
I will not write an elegy for you.
There was no funeral, or memorial, no celebration of life.
There is a box. There are remains.
But, until the words are recorded, you are not gone.
I will not write an elegy for you.
My body screams in silent lamentation.
Now, I understand the meaning of that word — keening.
But, the words rip me apart, and you are not here.
Poem #3 — a modern pastoral
Let me lie here just a spell longer
And rest my head upon this verdant pillow.
That old dog has been fed, the cattle are in
the barn, and supper’s on the stove.
There’s time yet to get on with what’s left.
Set yourself to looking at the sky.
Yesterday’s winds blew most of the clouds
off, and the rain washed away the damned yellow menace.
Breathe. Smell that bit of purple clover mixed with
freshly-cut grass? That honeysuckle vine over by the
edge of the woods sure looks tempting. How long has it
been since tasting something so sweet?
But, we are old, and the ground is damp.
I forgot the laundry is still in the dryer,
If you look hard, there might be some
clover honey in the pantry to go with the biscuits.
My Hiraeth Journey 