I am the Little Spokane
Forced to flow and push
My cold waters against
Unforgiving shoulders of land
And He is the colorless Winter Grass
Who consents to the flattening
Of snow and mud and lays
Himself down alongside me
And remains.
And rustles hoarsely in
My watery ears:
I know, I know…
Sunday, February 28, 2010
What Is
Last week's readwritepoem prompt gave me a lot to think about, as it asked me to consider what I believe and what I do not believe. It was quite an experience for me, and I think I will actually have several short poems as a result of the exercises. Here is the first:
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Very nice poem! My watery ears: I know,I know ... love that!
ReplyDeletePamela
Very moving. This I need to let percolate in my brain...Despite the cold waters and unforgiving shoulders, it's very comforting.
ReplyDeleteThis is lovely, Erin. I love the way you've condensed the list-making, belief-related prompt into the metaphor of a relationship of a river to winter grass on its banks. You've concretized the seat of meaning very powerfully.
ReplyDeleteIn more traditionally religious Western idiom, I hear strains of "Eventide" (composed by William Henry Monk) as I read this beautiful lyrical poem.
Wonderful!
Oooh. Why do I think that this one is somehow connected to the last poem (to which I add my own "Wow"). Regardless, it is beautiful. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteYou write about nature in a beautiful way. The love analogy is bewitching and very knowing.
ReplyDeletePamela, thank you so much!
ReplyDeletedistracted, I am pleased that my poem will be percolating in your mind for a while.
Paul, I'm glad you see the relationship metaphor here. I didn't have Monk's "Eventide" in my mind, but I do see the connection, and am pleased by it!
ds, I didn't deliberately write these last two poems with a connection in mind, but maybe the previous is kind of a flipside to this one.
Irene, thank you! I have only lived near nature for the last five years, so writing about it is still pretty new to me.
This is beautiful, Erin! I especially love the hoarse rustling . . . I know, I know.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful. I love "I know, I know" at the end. I can hear the whisper.
ReplyDeleteLike the others I think the ending is perfect. xoxo
ReplyDeleteblogger ate my comment...I love the ending, it is perfect. xoxo
ReplyDeleteSo, so sensuous and moving, Erin! Astounding!
ReplyDeleteGorgeous picture and poem...(though the first line made me think of this folk singer guy I saw once who sang a song called "Spokane" to the tune of...and rhyming with..."Cocaine")...
ReplyDelete