Lately, I've been really intrigued by the natural world around me and the feeling of peace it leaves lingering in the outer layers of my body, and so many of my works are inspired by fruits, trees, beings, blossoms, etc. My favorite poem (at the moment, but probably forever - note the blog title..) is James Wright's A Blessing (See Blog Desc.), and so I find that a good amount of my work echos (or tries to echo) the spirit in his poem as well as some of the visuals. With most of my works now I really just want to be able to penetrate a person's heart of hearts, that one place in him or her that tingles when something actually matters.
These are three of my most recent works in Poetry that I look forward to having reviewed. I’d say they’re the ones I’m most proud of, mostly because I’ve learned a whole lot more about perception in relation to what we say and what we say we see. Basically, I learned to show rather than tell (a huge problem of mine.) I like to say that I will probably never have a “finished” work, in the most concrete sense of the term, but these are most definitely not to their final stage, but they sound pretty snappy! I figured I could play with these works (along with making new ones, possibly) in different publications because I am so much about presentation of my work. I find that a different page color or a different method of publication adds a whole new meaning to the work and might even call for a different set of line breaks, or a stanza, or maybe even some new words. I am very-very particular about every section of my poem (that’s why I can’t do fiction, too many words left behind that may have needed capitalization or emphasis of a different sort) and so I’m not so much looking to add to my works as much as I am just looking to skin it down to its core skeleton. I like my stuff RAW, baby!
It’s the Mother’s Fault
When I see children
In a bath or running around naked
I contemplate how unsexual their bodies
Really are. And how they don’t need
To worry about or do anything
Sexual until after their pubic hairs
Grow. And they shouldn’t. I look
At their hairless skin and think
About how one day I might be
A mother. And then I think how remarkable
It is that a human being can come
Out of me.
Contentment: Anxiety.
Washed over lilacs
With a Marinade
Brush and Baster. They’ll flourish
And their soft colors
Will bleed a little
Like watercolors,
Ever so carefully
Cared for: the blossoms,
They shout
A quiet solemn Tune.
And the light and lovely
Perfume
Tickles my palms and olfactories
And I’m left staring at the light
Just so that my sneeze may never come.
Cherries that Hit the Ground Blue
I walked down a side street the other day and found
A smashed watermelon and some Cherries
From the day before. They looked unright but beautiful,
No less, their colored Juices staining the grey slate
Sidewalk. I walked down the same street about
Two days later and lying in the dead, wet leaves
There sat a plum. It was perfectly edible.
(Really hating the format on these poems... Thanks, Blogger, if that is your real name.)
Note: If you'd really like to know the meaning of a poem, well, I'm not into that. There really is no one idea behind any of them, BUT! I can inform you as to where my state of mind was so that you may better grasp the ideas behind each work. There may even be some things you pick up on that I may never have found myself.
