Good use of words….
This poem stands out, differently; in a refreshing way
“On my way to being me”…. Very original
Waterfall cascading over the rocks below,
Thundering down with fierce fast flow.
Washing away the debris and grime.
Cleansing and nurturing that which is mine.
Tumbling over to spill and deluge.
For the evil within there can be no refuge.
A rainbow of colours bent on exploding.
Dispersing all the grief stored into eroding.
All is now flowing free
I am on my way to being me.
I love the personal twist
Have you heard the tale of Janet Bell
who never felt so free
as when at her piano
and she played incessantly?
She always smiled and sat up straight
and played in F or C
for she would play in nothing but
a joyful major key
She tossed her hair and played with flair
and people would decree
that she should carry on forever
oh so joyously
She played so well, Miss Janet Bell
until one day, you see
Something awful happened
that I think you would agree
would make her sob and want to stop
her playing completely
the piano was tuned
and what she knew to be C
and everything was strange and out of order and dark and wounded and and wrong wrong all wrong and miss janet bell screamed in fright but her fingers were like glue to the keys and…
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Do you have any favorite poems memorized? Or do you intend, down the road, to memorize works that really inspire you?
This a great article from The New Yorker on the history of memorization of verse and why we all should continue to do it in the present:
After reading the article, I am making a concerted effort to fully commit to memory both Because I could not stop for Death by Emily Dickinson and The Kiss by Anne Sexton; because they are my poetic heroines, these are two of my favorite works of theirs, and I had completely memorized both works at one time in the past. I do have Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge memorized (and have since adolescence), because it has an Indiana Jones feel, and the images continue to be very vivid to me to this day.
I also believe…
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Hmmmm time really changes very little
Heil! This held my imagination
Oh mother earth….. The beautiful rich pool rotting away
A stagnant pond lie in an empty glade,
Where greens and blues of life did fade,
No life stirring a single drop,
Just empty and stale from bottom to top,
The trees and grass around it dead,
Long ago the last animals fled,
And deserted this empty broken pond,
Fowl and fishes did too abscond,
From this worthless derelict pool,
Where emptiness, death, and sicknesses rule,
The endless vitality soon forgot,
And this still stagnant pool was left to rot.