Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Musings on Poetry

I forget how much I love writing poetry when I don't do it for too long.  Forget how satisfying, frustrating, joy-bringing, and difficult it is to simply get a few lines out of my head and on to a sheet of paper, or a computer screen.  I find poetry far more difficult than prose, and I find I'm far more insecure with what I come up with.  Probably because I consider myself much better at prose than poetry!  But either way, I love writing poetry.  It satisfies something in me, that no other art form does.  So, I wanted to share a few poems I've written in the last few months...  

As Spring is now here, I think this poem, written on February 1st, is seasonally appropriate..

Do you remember when we used to catch tadpoles?
Their bodies slimy smooth and soft
Tails strong.
Remember when we'd let them go,
After a little while?
They'd dart away quickly
Into the murky shadows
And we'd go home
Spattered in mud
Smelling of pond scum and fresh air and
Happiness
Do you remember, now?

On  March 11th, angry and frustrated with the state of the world as I often am, I wrote this poem, entitled Broken Pavement. 

To find the secret way
Beside the voices-
Whispering of heretics
Traitors.
Mother Culture holds us close.

We must
Walk the winding paths
Away from the highways,
Sidewalks,
Sticky-hot asphalt.
Where:
Blueberries grow
And you can eat the cattails
Waving in the passing breezes.

Avoid the-
Institutions,
Corporate
Long grey hallways.

I’ll find the old buildings
Reclaimed by-
Love
Life
Life
And camp,
By a stream that fish still follow.
While I watch beauty escape in-
Ruins.

Finally,
Truly free
The stars will find me.

And finally, I've been having trouble writing any poetry whatsoever lately, so though I don't even like the finished product much at all, I was very proud of myself for managing to get over that block and write this poem yesterday!

why?  I ask
watching from behind the blinds
as someone rides by
blocking out the world with two small earbuds.
 
I know the certainty of holding back
like the boy on the bicycle
staying hidden
content in containment of Self
risk gets forgotten.
pushed carefully to the back of the closet
where I don't have to look at it
and can almost
almost-
forget it's existence.
 
dancing in confinement
starts to feel like freedom
after a while.
 
but risk is always there
even when I close my eyes tightly
thinking of warm places
and sweet darkness.
I feel the pull
longing
for something spicy
dangerous.
sparkling eyes and bitten lips
strange streets and breathless laughter.

distant
dreamlike.
reality seems so mundane, sometimes.
Life something that happens
on the other side of the glass:
not for me.

But…
  
yesterday,
I opened the door
just for a moment:

the sunshine smelled like adventure.
~~~~

Thank you for reading! :-)

Peace,
Idzie

6 comments:

  1. At our writing group, after we read our latest work. The others read back a few lines that stuck... from your poems mine are:

    "And you can eat the cattails"

    "Long grey hallways."

    "the sunshine smelled like adventure."

    Makes me want to write a poem, thank you!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks so much, you guys! :-)

    @The. Mom: I love that idea! I'll have to start doing that...

    ReplyDelete
  3. This part really got me:

    "dancing in confinement
    starts to feel like freedom
    after a while."

    Very true! I've been confining myself a little too long...


    I enjoy reading your blog because you always make me think. (:

    ReplyDelete

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