DEATH
It is the
sincerest good-bye;
long in wait,
heavy in labor,
and always
inappropriate.
CULTURE LIKE ROUTE 66
once
this was the way
we followed it
riding
walking
living
on its wake
but
it is no more the way has changed
MY WOUNDED STATE
Whisper your fears into my ears
and languish in the extinguish of our passions.
Breathe the gloom of this room that exudes
from my soul and shiver in its cold.
Snuggle tight against the night and the
pathos of this chaos, then,
contemplate my wounded state.
Author notes
DEATH is part of my manuscript I hope to publish within two years. CULTURE LIKE...is comparing the "Mother Road" to the likeness of native american culture. And, WOUNDED STATE is an ancient piece from my beginnings; it isn't rhyme, but alliteration. I didn't know the difference back then (do I now?) and worried over it because it stated what I wanted to say, but didn't follow any rhyming schemes (the poetry-mooses must have laughed)!
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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just as life comes in threes
These all do read well. I enjoyed each of them . They held their own bar as to your standards. I do enjoy your work the more i read it -the pleasure is mine...mac
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DEATH
It is the
sincerest good-bye;
wow. that is so cold, but brilliant. i never thought about it like that, this is deep.
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Three!
At first glance ... I found it interesting the way you put these seemingly unrelated poems on one page and titled them as such. I read them again and began seeing how you really have something going on here and if I were to have my way
I would move the first one to the last place and then the three would read almost like a brief auto-bio! I particularly liked "Death" for its brevity and
seemingly unimportance until I actually thought the dynamite of what you shared.
As for "Culture Like Rt. 66" - I saw the route stretching through New Mexico and Arizona and realized how it no longer was what it once was, so many places were destined to the weeds and broken pieces of tar and concrete and then related all of that to your metaphoric poem ... I understand and it's a sad state of affairs. The whole g'dam history of a civilization caught up in a changing world where respect for anything is practically eradicated. Yet I watched as folks flocked to the ruins of the ancients and be so fascinated by the way they lived and yet pass by many a reservation on their way ... with total disregard for all who suffer there now.
Talk about irony! And who wouldn't understand the wounded state? So sad! I think that your author notes are not needed and I personally feel that your posted picture is all that is needed. I love that picture of you (if indeed it is) and also feel that you need to get that book going with everything that you have thought and shared about your life as you knew it ... I would almost like it to be auto-biographical with your poems unwinding between your stories of "how it was" starting with the day the govt. took control all the way up to the present state of mind! You have lots to share that we just don't know and we need you to help us imagine. I am your fan base and your incentive to "Tell Me" and don't worry about the niggly rules of poetry mooses. Tell your story!!!
joy
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okay, joe. somewhere in another life I must have been one of those mooses, 'cause now you've got me laughin'!
alliteration, in your 3rd strike, yes. and, I feel I must discuss this concept a bit.
alliteration most commonly is thought of when repetition of the first consonant sound dominates a line, such as bouncing betty's boobs bobbled bodaciously... uh... blah, blah, blah... you get the picture.
however, consonance and assonance are also aspects of alliteration that are important to understand, because the whole concept of alliteration is what distinguishes verse from prose. if one thinks of rhyme as being essential to poetry, then verse is poetry because it has internal rhyme. there is a sound, a lilt to the way the words work together. the ear, though not always the eye, picks up the internal repeated rhyme of consonant sounds, consonance, and/or vowel sounds, assonance.
and I have said all of this to draw both your eyes and ears to this line:
"...pathos of this chaos, then,..."
while it looks as though pathos and chaos are an alliterative couple, I have to bend my ear to force the rhyme; in my world, the ending sound in pathos rhymes with close (that's close, as in hold me close, kinda like what you were thinkin' about up there when I painted young betty. )
although, that is not an uncommon case in poetry... and oh boy, i'm on a roll here. sorry! i think it was the baseball metaphor in your title. i been watchin' those lovely young men playin' the series...
a great set of poems
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Great writes..
as ever, the first 'death' was so simply true, yet poetic. The last line made me smile...it's true, death is always inappropriate. Culture, tradition is inbuilt into our consciousness and subconsciousness, changing subtly over years, unless it is swiped away by another regime. My wounded state was just beautifully written, 'snuggle tight AGAINST the night..love that.
And to be published too...good luck, I can see why you would be published, your work is very unique, clever, interesting and lovely.
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