Sunday, November 15, 2009

An Old Dusted Off Poem

I just couldn't get to blogging yesterday and today isn't much better. But I was able to find an old poem,written about 4years ago at a poetry workshop. We were given the word "interior". We could interpret it any way we wished. This was my take. I haven't looked at it since then until today. It's not bad,needs work,but hey,here it is:



The house inside.
The things you rest upon,eat upon,weep across.
Aged things,handed down,stolen.
Things you live with because you want to.

Reached by going into,down to,or sometimes
up to,secret cobweb cubbies,
broken parts,live wires.

A frontier space of old growth forests
and raging rivers
where things can hide from the hunter

the neglected inside of many
a freshly painted house.


We only got ten minutes to write a go easy on me.
My family is on their way back to California... me sad.
Tonight I will miss their kisses & "goodnight gamma"
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  1. I like the imagery of the "frontier space of old growth forests and raging rivers." I used to write poetry, too, but it's been a long time.

    Sorry you're missing your family ... will you see them again for the holidays?

  2. Yes Goldenbird, they are coming back Dec 23...I hope not sick this time!
    I know I have a few raging rivers and old growth forests in me! Thanks for commenting

  3. Love the poem. Lucky you to have your grandchildren for the Holidays.


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