Lost poem
it wasn't in the wedge of geese
that splits sky from sage
it wasn't in the rivers of roughness
that sing the length of the box elder
it wasn't in the pearly ice
that spoons the riverbank
or in the awkward cry of the long legged heron
launching blue and dinosauric
down the near-frozen highway of cottonwoods
it wasn't in the arcing spine of the thorny
black locust trembling bare against the sky
it wasn't in the cloud
ruminating low and lazy over the snowy rim
or in the cold that creeps across
these piebald hills
elbowing its cloven-hoofed way into my heart
but I did find inside the old blown nest
wedged in the naked apple tree
the promise of a poem I wrote when I was three
that splits sky from sage
it wasn't in the rivers of roughness
that sing the length of the box elder
it wasn't in the pearly ice
that spoons the riverbank
or in the awkward cry of the long legged heron
launching blue and dinosauric
down the near-frozen highway of cottonwoods
it wasn't in the arcing spine of the thorny
black locust trembling bare against the sky
it wasn't in the cloud
ruminating low and lazy over the snowy rim
or in the cold that creeps across
these piebald hills
elbowing its cloven-hoofed way into my heart
but I did find inside the old blown nest
wedged in the naked apple tree
the promise of a poem I wrote when I was three
posted by MB at 12:35 AM
15 Comments:
This is wonderful. your poetry makes me want to read on, tells me something old in a new way, "the arcing spine of the thorny/ black locust trembling bare against the sky". The little story gives it completion, reason for being. thankyou I've learned a little more about writing and poetry, and enjoyed the experience.
(o)
Finding meaning in things lost and found again, rediscovered in a new light...wonderful!
This is excellent. Very nice writing here; I enjoyed my stay.
Hope you visit...
One of your best, Moose.
And that's saying a lot.
Beautiful images, and the end is so sweet, and unexpected. :)
this one completely captured me, made my mind drift and my heart soar. I love the way you paint the outdoors with your words. i was truly transported even though I was sitting in my cube on this cold winter's day. thank you thank you- snowsparkle
I liked finding the promise of a poem. Something that might be found again, or that could be found once more.
Garnet, thank you so much. I'm learning too, and it's a joy. Especially when someone like you comes by to leave a rich comment.
Ken, your response means a lot to me. That the poem should have succeeded in the way you describe, that it should have provided that kind of experience for someone... makes me very happy. Thank you.
Dale, thanks for reading and leaving your signature in the sand! ;-)
Mermaid, I'm happy to see you come up from the deeps for air. ...Perhaps that's all there ever is — rediscovery in new light?
bluetattoo, welcome! Thank you for reading and for the invitation. I'm pleased you enjoyed your visit. Do come again.
Mary, thank you. I'm honored by your statement.
Sara, I'm really glad you enjoyed it, thank you.
snowsparkle, if my poem can transport you from your cubicle to the outdoors, then it's done its work, I think. Thank you for letting me know.
girlzoot, welcome! Thank you for visiting. I like finding the promise of a poem, too. This one is particularly meaningful for me. I'm happy that you see it could be found multiple times.
This poem has excellent imagery. I love it!
Molte grazie, Anna, I appreciate your comment.
I love how this speaks back to your child self, your secret self
Sue, as one who works with children, I'm guessing you would know. It's a self I love dearly and sometimes find hard to reach. Thanks for your comment.
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