I've a noon-ish meeting today that will accomplish everything it needs to accomplish. I still don't feel like attending. It is raining outside and it started right after I awoke, had it began a few minutes earlier I would still be asleep but this is not the stars alignment this morning. As it is I've been awake for nearly two hours and have done little more than stare at the bedroom ceiling and the blank composition screen on the iMac.
plans for today had included mowing the lawn and the whacking of weeds with a freshly repaired week whacker, (I enjoy large engine repair but loathe small engine repair, I was tempted to replace it with a better machine.) this is now postponed until tomorrow when the sun will be shining and the air will be thick with new mosquitoes.
I found this poem in a publication from ten years ago, I had forgotten that I published anything then. I was sure that I was still wearing sunglasses indoors and angst painted on my boots, but apparently while searching my old pen name I came across about 40 published works - most of them are terrible and this one had a little revision but it very well may be kept. I've had this experience so often and it remains true to many stages of my life.
hospital room
Hospital room
3 a.m.
can't tell if I'm awake
or asleep.
Two clicks to on and
I watch the talking head
No sound,
blurry and can't
Seem to locate my glasses.
So it goes 'click'
and off.
I press the call button
3 or 4 times
and the R.N. opens the door
I tell him that I just wanted
Someone to chat with until
I got sleepy but said nothing
And never got sleepy.
- Hoc Scripsi
I've been writing poetry most of my life and all of my adult life but I failed to see it more than a small thing for many many years. It took not writing anything other than haiku poems for awhile and a life altering event to awaken the urgency of poetry to me. Now I regard this as my calling, I am a poet and there is nothing more important to a society as that. I long to be assassinated for fear of my influence - to me, assassination spells success even though they are 3 syllables different in length.
I think the old stuff may be surprisingly good. If it's anything like your newer work, it's probably all related to what you were doing at that point in time. You should post more of it.
ReplyDelete(unless you don't want to!)
I may yet find an outlet for the older things - I've let nothing go and I have the originals of this one, and several others, around - likely waiting to be placed in a binder and filed away on a shelf.
ReplyDeleteI came across your blog because of your references to stage of life moments. I noticed the poem first and, as a huge supporter of poetry and creative writing in general, I was eager to read your blog. I hope you will take a minute to check out our site, or my blog (which the CEO has me writing; it's about me doing this exact thing I'm doing with you right now). We're always looking for more people to participate in the conversation and share wisdom and advice with the world. Feel free to add you voice to our project.
ReplyDeleteBritt
Writing Intern
www.stageoflife.com