I was out late a few nights ago. No, I wasn't partying ... well, it was a party of sorts ... I was sitting in with a poetry group ... a small group which meets fairly regularly to celebrate poetry.
And celebrate it is!
We all enjoy poetry. We sit in a small circle, share our most recent discoveries, pass around copies, discuss each offering briefly ... simply savoring some ... trying to unravel the mysteries of others.
And ... after nibbling on a slice of raisin bread ... fresh and piping hot from the oven ... well, yes, it was a party.
All the way home, then, the words of the evening kept coming back, singing to me and Phyllis. It almost seemed that The Little Red Car was humming along, too.
So I was out late. Not too late, mind you. It was afterward ... when I sat down at the keyboard, that time really slipped away from me.
As a result of that, there I was ... lost ... well, not completely lost, but still bumping into things in the morning fog. Sleep deprived, I believe it's called.
I had hoped to enumerate some of the changes I've accepted ... even welcomed, in some instances ... along the way ... and some of those which I'm still resisting. I'm sure there have been many of each.
But I think I'd better wait until I'm fully awake ... like, maybe in another day or two.
Meanwhile, the poem:
ACCEPTING CHANGE
I'm not always
a willing partner,
but I must go
with the times,
leaving a trail
of scuff marks
where I've been
dragged along.
© 1998
(originally published in Capper's)
***
Today's word:
changeAfterthoughts ... in response to your comments:
Thank you, Featheredpines, for that comment ... truly music to my ears. I'm glad you find music lurking in the words I've chosen ... or rather, the words which have chosen me (often the way I feel when a poem starts humming through my head) ... as I often say, though, so much depends on what the reader brings to the poem. Actually, though I hasten to point out that I don't read music ... and don't play real songs ... I do sit down sometimes at that "other" small keyboard and noodle away, picking out sounds that appeal to me. I lose track of time there, too. But enough of my life story ... for now. Thanks for keeping in touch.
1 comment:
I think I must have left plenty of scuff marks :)
When I was reading your editorial and came upon the word "keyboard" something came to mind. What else has a keyboard? A piano. Words and notes are created on keyboards. You've probably thought of this before, and maybe even written a poem or two about it! The words you combine within your poems are like music to one's ears :)
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