Like a blind dog
searching for water
we use our other,
as best we can.
Can we sniff out love,
in this dark, mortal chamber?
Ok, this needs work, like the “can./ Can”, so close together in lines 5 and 6, but right now I can’t take the time to fiddle with it. Another one to come back to.
So yesterday the Notre Dame cathedral caught fire and much of it was destroyed. The world is diminished by it. It has repercussions in the religious, cultural and personal spheres. I was shocked and dismayed, so of course I completely avoided it in my writing. Stuff like this needs processing time, for me. Instead I took off on a tangent from a funny (I thought) cartoon about why there are no crocodiles in orchestras and that got me thinking. I loved the sound of, “an alligator orchestra” just the sound of it. And I started thinking about different instruments alligators might be able to use (if there was nothing but their big snouts and short arms limiting them). And then I started thinking, in a ridiculous way, of things different animals would be very good at, rather than bad at. And what follows is the start of the absurd little list.
The Octopus Bakery
has the best bread in town
they knead three loaves at a time
with an extra tentacle
to spread flour
or give an extra pat
or reach for a loaf pan
or run the cash register
The Aardvark Exterminator Co.
is the best in town
someone is on call
twenty-four hours a day
and they use no harsh chemicals
or they will come back
no extra charge
Dung Beetle Septic, LLC
is the best ever
is our bread and butter
That is truth in advertising!
who you hate
and I will tell you
what you fear
twisted into one
this bond we call family
I’m not satisfied with this for a number of reasons, but I don’t have the time to fiddle with it. Such is the nature of NaPoWriMo! Maybe someday I can improve on it.
WILD GEESE by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
One of my favorites by Mary Oliver for you, in honor of International Poetry Day.
Through the mist
soft feet pad,
a grey cat
melts into the sky
The hills call siren-like and steep.
Two children share a wooden sled,
new snow is beckoning and deep,
the hills call siren-like and steep.
They landed in a shattered heap,
too fast to suffer, it was said.
The hills called siren-like and steep.
Two children shared a wooden sled.
Well, this started out to be a quadrille (44 words) including the word “steep” to link to dVerse Poets’ Pub, but somehow it turned into a dark triolet. Theat’s an eight line, iambic tetrameter poem with the rhyme scheme: ABaAabAB, where capital letters indicate repeated lines. I haven’t written one of these in ages.