It' the day after Christmas and the family is in recovery and rest mode. As usual, my 5 year old twins were spoiled by their grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. We've opened almost all the boxes and trashed the house. Ahh....Christmas!
I sit here this morning drinking coffee. I start every day this way. I'm on my second round. I'm in my favorite chair looking out over a perfect snow covered landscape. I can't remember the last time we actually had a white Christmas.
I apologize in advance for my attempt at poetry. I'm no poet but apparently I was feeling artsy on this day. To my knowledge, this is the last poem I ever wrote.
September 1st
- Raining again
- 0 miles
- Took 3 or 4 color slides of Chulitna River & two bald eagles
- Stayed at Troublesome Creek
Rain in September
Nothing is immune
Coming down on the its own demand
Blanketing the countryside
Like dew on a cool fall morning
It drizzles from the sky
Like tears dripping from the clouds
Shedding their feelings locking deep inside
Permeating all that is exposed
As it hits your face
Salt trickles from your brow
You taste it un-wantingly
Once more you wish it would it would stop
It doesn't stop
It keeps coming
As if the clouds intended
On punishing you for holding back in a past life
Gloomy, gray clouds close off pleasant blues & whites
Like the doors of a casket
Concealing all light
From vibrant life that lay below
It rains; wetting, wetting, wetting
Until no more water remains
Once again, the clouds have spoken
Wishing to share no more feelings
Until a later day
J.B.
September 1st, 1993
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2 comments:
I was an art student in college. One of my professors asked, "What is art?" Well, after some lively discussion, the class agreed that art is anything that elicits a response, especially an emotional one.
While you may or may not agree with that, I always thought that it captured what "art" is in most folks minds.
Your poem definitely got an emotional response from me. It is strange how being alone in nature can pull things out of us that we never knew, (or were aware of but keeping a lid on) were in us.
As if the clouds intended
On punishing you for holding back in a past life
For whatever reason, when I read this for the first time yesterday, it didn't elicit a strong personal response. But today I picked it up again and, I don't know if it's my slightly gloomier mood that perhaps relates to the vibe you struck in your writing that day, but I have to say, I was moved by your eloquence of verse with this last read-through.
That just reminded me of the old Elmore James blues standards "Sky is Cryin'" and "Sun is Shinin'" -- two of my absolute favorites, especially when performed by Eric Clapton.
Nice work Gnat.
Cheers,
MG
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