you said something interesting about anger on Sunday and it made a poem almost pop out of me on Monday but it was only the start of a poem and i didn't finish it then....
anger was the death of me
tiny spark nestled close to heart's dry tinder produced consummate fire creating naught but smoke
It seems that many of us are slowing down after a winter of blogishness. We're finding that other things call us away -- whether something new and exciting or something that causes us to go off and heal. I hope yours is the first.
Some years ago my poetry took on a mythic flavor and I became a character in my own poems, a mage, "the man of the Northern Wall". This apellation is not completely fictional. My middle name is Noordwal, a Dutch term for north wall, though in current Dutch it mainly means north bank as in riverbank. I was told that an ancestor, a Portugese Jew escaping the Inquisition, settled in a small Dutch town and took this name from where he settled, near the north wall of the town. I have thought for a long time that -wal meant wall, think my mother told me that. A linguist might say that my usage is no longer common, is an older usage, but then the Inquisition happened in Portugal a few centuries ago, right around the time the Moors lost control of the Iberian Peninsula and the Jews lost the modest protection given them by Islam. Now I write as this mage, my poetry persona.
Mechanical designer for industry, now retired, once a Bay Area Hippie, went undercover in 1972, I've been writing poetry for years.
Contact: 3topper45@gmail.com
Hugs to you. Hope all is well.
ReplyDeleteHuggles
ReplyDeleteyou said something interesting about anger on Sunday and it made a poem almost pop out of me on Monday but it was only the start of a poem and i didn't finish it then....
ReplyDeleteanger was the death of me
tiny spark
nestled close
to heart's dry tinder
produced consummate fire
creating
naught but smoke
wafted acrid air
thru
bleached
burnt
bones
turnedonitself
to view
whatwasbecome
a ghost
It seems that many of us are slowing down after a winter of blogishness. We're finding that other things call us away -- whether something new and exciting or something that causes us to go off and heal. I hope yours is the first.
ReplyDelete{{{Ghost}}} Wow. Anger was the death of me...what a good poem.
ReplyDeleteKaren, Actually I confess to fighting off a cold and going to bed in lieu of blogging.
thanks Christopher...... play again soon
ReplyDeleteThanks Ghost, again. Bye.
ReplyDelete