Notes About The Poem
I am, somewhat surprisingly (to me, anyway) beginning a series of poetry-written-when-I-hear-the-geese-throughout-my-day.
Intergeeseruption
The geese.
Again.
Interrupt my day;
which had been
-Interrupted
(All day.)
by my wand’ring mind.
It hithers and thithers.
As the boyish body
ages, the brain withers.
Each day a protest;
silent but for the creaks and groans
(some audible),
against the Grand Dissolution
when my organized bits
are no longer suspended in
solution
and I settle out of the mix
and all is clear once more.
My pigments, my dyes
have their peace of rest:
have their piece of rest -
have their peace in rest -
have the rest of peace -
have their rest in peace -
My wishes, my tries,
Upon the canvas, the clay, the stitchery of
Life, upon my fingers uncleaned -
Everything dies...such is the witchery of
Life.
Where was I?
Oh, yes.
The geese.
Again.
I name this unseen one,
overloft at end of day,
Clarion.
These pages say that a clarion
is a call to action.
I’ve had my part, I’ve had my day.
Action has had its traction, in its day.
Not today. This, no overreaction,
I am over reaction. This be my response,
instead.
I take this goose to be a call.
To inaction.
No, not inaction.
To rest.
To the
Presence.
Before the
Absence.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
