Every day is a revision, a flux of emotions and evolution of ideas.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Random Acts of Poetry-Oct 3-9,2005
Feel like getting into poetry, now is the week. If you are feeling spontaneously inspired, I would really love to get poemed. Leave me one in the comment section.
a bit long, still a bit unrefined but it is a *random* act, and on this aunt's BD, so here you go --
feel the almost peach fuzz abrasion of long yellow beans? Let the genie crisp pop snap us to the knee of my aunt when I was in pigtails and overalls, knees mud-plastered from adventures with frogs
She and I shelled peas, cleaned yellow beans sorted pinto beans in the grey dirt floor shed. Sense the dimness? Sniff the old woodchip stacked cordwood along one wall
hear that scampering flittering scattering scratches of beetles, deermice and kittens peeking out, rushing through,
feel the cool of the galvanized steel speckled bushel tested for weight,
let's shake everything down denser, one on another, heavier than arms from carrying heavier than her knowing that this time will never return to hand only mind
"mind your work the day will still be there when you're through" wanting to follow drainage ditches nap, lulled pretending to be the log mesmerized by the scrollwork bored into the logside under bark marvel at how sun heats the blue straps differently than the white cotton turtleneck, feel the shinyness of clasps and how the colors are so much more primary than crayons or the play furniture
but soon this all anticipation tumbles into the rubber buckets plunks, succumbs to the music of rhythm of peas shelled, the unity and togetherness of being at my aunt's knee.
That's scary, Zeb.
ReplyDeletea bit long, still a bit unrefined but it is a *random* act, and on this aunt's BD, so here you go --
ReplyDeletefeel the almost peach fuzz abrasion
of long yellow beans?
Let the genie crisp pop snap
us to the knee of my aunt
when I was in pigtails
and overalls, knees mud-plastered
from adventures with frogs
She and I shelled peas,
cleaned yellow beans
sorted pinto beans in the
grey dirt floor shed.
Sense the dimness?
Sniff the old woodchip
stacked cordwood
along one wall
hear that scampering
flittering scattering
scratches of beetles,
deermice and kittens
peeking out, rushing through,
feel the cool of the
galvanized steel speckled bushel
tested for weight,
let's shake everything down
denser, one on another,
heavier than arms from carrying
heavier than her knowing that this time
will never return to hand
only mind
"mind your work
the day will still be there
when you're through"
wanting to follow drainage ditches
nap, lulled pretending to be the log
mesmerized by the scrollwork
bored into the logside under bark
marvel at how sun heats the blue
straps differently than the white cotton
turtleneck, feel the shinyness of clasps
and how the colors are so much more
primary than crayons or the play furniture
but soon this all anticipation
tumbles into the rubber buckets
plunks, succumbs to the music
of rhythm of peas shelled,
the unity and togetherness
of being at my aunt's knee.
Oh that is beautiful, Pearl and a fitting birthday tribute to your aunt.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for participating in this poetic event.
Wow, thanks Lisa. I am not sure I grasp the deep meaning but I am ever so glad to be poemed!
ReplyDelete