You may have noticed ... or maybe not ... that I'm running a little late this morning.
No particular reason. Mondays are like that, sometimes. Busy weekend. Beautiful two days of sunshine and comfortable temperatures. I gave in to the lure of the outdoors ... and fell behind on my chores.
Among those chores, thinking ahead to my next entry ... at least ... here on "Chosen Words."
That ... no surprise ... finally came up just minutes ago.
In between other things, I've been trying to prepare for participation in a "poetry slam" ... something I've never done before ... so I don't really know how to prepare for it, although I have a vague idea of what a "slam" is like.
I just don't see any of my own poems fitting in.
I'm not a "performance" poet ... some would question whether I'm really any kind of poet ... I write mainly for myself, but I enjoy sharing what I've written, when I find a willing listener ... and I really enjoy hearing what others have written.
So I'll go.
I may get cold feet. I may remain glued to my seat, listening to others, applauding what they have written ... or I may rise, share something with the audience ... receive their applause ... or take my lumps ...
But I won't be dancing, singing, rapping ... I couldn't, even if my life depended on it.
Meanwhile, here's another of my little poems, an effort to paint a picture with a few words gathered in the quiet of the evening:
MORNING SONG
First light comes
stealing across
slumbering fields,
a doorslides open
like muffled thunder
rolling, distant,
then, on the breeze,
a tractor's song.
© 1995
(originally published in Capper's)
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Today's word:
lateAfterthoughts ... in response to your comments:
I am so glad this one brought back memories for you, Magran. It seems to me that you had the best of both worlds ... your front yard being "city" ... and your back yard "all country." As for the "slam," even if I do get cold feet ... anything short of being run out of town ... I plan to report back here with some news about the event.
1 comment:
I love this poem. It reminds me of the Morning Song of my own youth.......a neighbor whistling in the early darkness on his way to milk his cow. I had a wonderful childhood. Our front yard was city and the back yard was all country. Can't wait to hear more about the "slam".
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