in the usual resolute way
not at first for poems
not at all
More typically, something along the lines of
"Beautiful warm summer day, the sound of a boat motor drifting under the jet noise some miles up..."
no, even that sounds more like poetry now...
But it is a beautiful day.
I'm sitting on the porch,
off to my right is the recently featured oak tree
and on the table, a cup of hot tea.
I don't know many war dead,
or for that matter, war living.
A few. There are many.
A dog strolls into the yard,
sniffing purposefully.
I shoo it away, or at least
shout. Then, run out
and throw a tea bag at it.
The dog is quite friendly
and comes wagging its tail.
I remark that it's too friendly.
It gives a slight woof and moves on.
Memorial Day. My wife and son
went to watch the parade.
I suppose I should have too.
He wanted to watch (and hear) them shoot the guns.
Boys are famous for liking to make things into guns.
Today I want to take stock of where slog2live:
- has been
- is
- is going
The trouble is,
I don't really feel
like there's time to do a recap, and
I doubt that you
really want to spend time
reading about it.
(I mean, it's all there in the archives)
The only thing I'd point out is that initially it was an effort to get organized.
Then it morphed to being an assortment of efforts at poetry.
I'm not very sure where it will end up. But I do hope to improve at being organized, and also at being expressive with poetry.
7 comments:
The best feature of your posts is that for a minute I forget I'm reading and I'm living a moment that you had, shooing a dog, throwing a tea bag at the dog, looking to the sky at the birds, sparse enough for my mind to conjour up the smelly colourfull details but precient enough so that I feel a hot cup of tea in my hand, and can see a new and vulnerable oak on the yard. An honerable poem. Indeed, "Boys are famous for liking to make things into guns." Salut.
steve, your posts are a pleasure to read (and/or look at)!
no matter where this takes you, you're doing very well!
Steve, I don't know about the organization, but the poetry is coming along nicely. Hell forget the organ-a-whatever thingy!!!
"A dog strolls into the yard,
sniffing purposefully.
I shoo it away, or at least
shout. Then, run out
and throw a tea bag at it"
This happened to me late at night recently! :)
I love your work -- no need to look back-- I quite looking back a long time ago.
just keep writing
i enjoy reading
be it
re-caps
poetry
musings
or
blank staves
:)
ryan, polona, pat, andrew, floots - thanks to each of you for these kind words. I'm surprised at how it feels kind of healing to read these - healing from what, I'm not sure - but it does:)
I love to play
along the blurry boundary
between poetry and prose,
throwing teabags at stray dogs
on the day devoted to the worship of guns,
and elevating those who serve them.
:)
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