All I can say, I must have been having a difficult play day. Both of these poems happened an hour apart and so partake of the same spirit. The earlier one complains and the later one holds some suggestions to myself but basically I just wasn't so freakin spiritual. heh.
Rocks In My Head
Rocks in my odd head
Look like they are in the sky,
Floating in the clouds.
When my thoughts take flight they crash.
They bounce off bruised or broken.
Yes, it's hard for me
To think stuff, to keep going,
Lots of aspirin.
**********************************
I'm In My Own Way
If I shed my skin
Like the garden snake I saw,
I would know better
Than to build cartoons of us.
I would then know who you are.
If I dropped my eyes,
Got brave like angels can be,
I would see better
And stop making most things up.
I would then know who I am.
*****
I am kidding about the spiritual part, sort of. Someone commented, poetic license a while back. I do have a sense of play, and when you are doing a couple poems a day, minimum, there are special problems and solutions. How do I keep a discipline green? Any way I can. If I have to be serious and deep all the time it is not going to work. So Rocks is tongue in cheek. I say that meaning on this day, not that I have never experienced something like that...
But the other one, well...that's probably dead serious several times a day. Don't think I'm the only one. You know who you are, or maybe not, a scary thought. I don't like being someone's cartoon, especially when they will defend to great lengths what they think. Stop making shit up!!
Contraction
1 week ago
I love your poetry! And i knew you were kidding. You're always spiritual; rocks in the head, lost in a dust cloud or brave like an angel! It's all you.
ReplyDeleteWe don't have to always tell the truth or have it about us. Sometimes it's make pretend or a "what if". I think that's what keeps it interesting. I love the line about the snake shedding the skin and making cartoons of us...It's all good. Glad to have found your blog.
ReplyDeleteThe second one, that I like most of all. The snake, the cartoons... it is weird and thought-provoking. I like that.
ReplyDeleteYou guys delight me. Thank you for the kindnesses of visiting and commenting.
ReplyDeleteHalf kidding, as I said. There are always human challenges to a spiritual life, whatever that means. One thing it means is a burnished honesty, burnished because it is used so much, is so well handled that it picks up its sheen that way. So well handled that it is easy to pick up, a very good thing since honesty is put back down so subtly, so often.
I can finally leave a little poem for you on your blog:)
ReplyDeleteI wrote this a short while ago while hoping a poem would come to me...
New Post
Mocking me
new post
i have no more words
they fall silent
from my lips
plunk into the water
new post mocking me
silence silence
and more silence
not even the great blue heron
could bring these stones
forth.
I think I am feeling the rocks in my head at the moment:)
I love the the image of shedding skin. I always think that may be possible.
What a fine new poem! Exactly. The poems are there in the very near spaces. We get so used to looking out far away, assuming the inspiration comes from those distances, from far sight.
ReplyDeleteI had a friend say this to me years ago in slapstick, by smacking his own face with his open palm straght on, and saying "get the picture?" when he was looking at his hand mashed up against his face.
That's exactly what I have to do when I can't think of another poem and have to bust through that knot. And of course it's the same advice given to people who meditate, or for that matter a driver losing control...you have to turn into the skid. That means if there's a wall between you and the next poem, then the wall IS the next poem. Maybe again, and again. The point. Don't stop.
That was me yesterday, my first poem was exactly that, then two or three others followed easily.
stopped by to look around.....
ReplyDeleteThat's sorta one half step beyond no comment at all, my friend. Thanks for the llama. Does he spit?
ReplyDeletei figured i had gone too far already with the pregnant faery..... :)
ReplyDeleteIf I ran into a woman with wings who was pregnant and that beautiful I would accept the baby and offer marriage. Prenup.
ReplyDeleteChristopher - I would like to present you with the lemonade award.
ReplyDeleteThank you for inspiration you give to others with your beautiful poetry.
Christopher - It will be on my blog shortly with details.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Tracy-Ann
ReplyDelete