Well, I so enjoyed Caleb?s peaceful blog. He took us with him on a walk through the woods, spoke of nature and his love of hunting. He also showed us a cool picture, a ray of light hitting water and creating dazzling patterns.
He asked where do we find our peace and I mentioned to him that I love bookstores.
Low and behold, I was dropped off at the library in Stratford by my husband. He was going to go clean the car and he knows I love the library. After he headed off, I discovered I?d left my wallet at home with my library card, so I chose to head off with my debit card instead, lol.
Fanfare Books is one of those ?character? bookstores with brick walls exposed and wide planked floors that speak of a different era. I am smitten with this place.
When I stood in front of the store, I suddenly remembered Caleb?s blog and pictured him there, wondered what he?d think of the cool, little place with its generous poetry section, several shelves dedicated to local poets.
Sunlight was streaming through the window. Unlike so many second hand book stores I frequent, there were no dust motes dancing, here. The light was pure. I stared at one ray and low and behold I felt a poem building and building.
I saw so many lovely poetry books. Many were over my meager budget and I finally chose a slender volume of Baudelaire. I perused it in the store and most likely it sounded like I was Sally at the restaurant scene in When Harry Met Sally. But, sigh. Only selected verse.
This is the Poem:
Implausibly, I took a friend to Fanfare
Books then nudged him through its doorway.
This was strange, since he wasn't really there.
Still, he kept me company. Morning rays
blessed old bricks then revered a worn wood
floor. My companion targeted photography
so I watched him hunt for what he could
'til art caught my eye, nearly blinded me.
Though I was alone, the moment was shared.
This, the paradox of poets, this odd bond.
We crave solitude, yet solitude wears
on the very thing that lets words compile.
We met up in poetry. He dogged some Wilde
while I bagged a thin volume of Baudelaire.
here is a closer look at why and how I chose certain words.
In line 2 I figured that a man who loves the great OUTdoors may need to be ... ahem... gently persuaded to go INdoors, hence the word NUDGED. I love the use of internal rhyme and wanted some echo effects. IMPLAUSIBLY, COMPANY do this.
I love alliteration and used it frequently in this poem...FRIEND/FANFARE, KEPT/COMPANY, BLESSED/BRICKS, WORN/WOOD, PARADOX/POETS
Because this is for Caleb, I intentionally used some hunting terms... Targeted, hunted, bagged.
Now, the most significant metaphors I left for the closing couplet.
We met up in poetry... I am referring to 1) the poetry section in the shop, 2) Poetry soup and 3) an even wider plane, the art itself, as all poets who meet do; that camaraderie
He DOGGED... Dogged (I hope!) is 1) a hunting term which means to shoot down one?s target over dogs (Help me Caleb! Was I right?) I wanted to be playful here, too. 2) I thought of hunting dogs, how they point and wanted to conjure that up for the reader 3) then of course there is 4) the term of affection, ?Dawg!?
SOME WILDE.... 1) Oscar Wilde was known for his wit... something that I?m sure Caleb would enjoy. 2) a play on the word wilde/wild ie WILD TURKEY BOURBON 3) an allusion to the wild/life and wild/erness that Caleb so enjoys.
BAGGED?caught my book and put my book into a retail bag.... again, playing around
Anyways, this blog was inspired by ROY?S BLOG, titled ?Poem, Deconstructed.? His poem is awesome and his detailed explanation of his word selection, the history that pours from the poem, is WORTH A READ. Please, stop by his blog, when you can.
Feel free to leave comments, questions, whatever.