dontravis.com
blog post #346
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Well,
it happened again. Last week my post received 3133 hits in a single day… all from Israel. For
the past few years, this has occurred about twice yearly. I’ve examined the key
words for the blogs posted each time this happens and find no rhyme or reason
for attracting such concentrated interest. On top of that, I’m lousy with key
words.
In
the past twelve months, I’ve had 1,000 hits in a single day from Russia,
Vietnam, Brazil, India, and the Philippines, but these are more random. Someone
suggested the Russian hits might be bots… but a thousand spies in a single day?
Let’s
face it, I do not understand this world I live in today.
Enough
of that. Today, something every out of the ordinary for me. Some regular
readers know that a fellow by the name of Dennis Kastendiek and I mentor the
Wordwright Writing Class each Monday from 1:30 p.m. to 3:30 p.m. at the North
Domingo Baca Multigeneration Center here in Albuquerque. We spend the first
thirty minutes talking about writing topics in general and the following hour
and a half reading our members’ own works. We have everything from published
writers to rank beginners, fiction and non-fiction, poets and essayists. We are
an eclectic group.
The
point of all of the above is that when we make class comments on poetry, I
always preface my remarks with “I’m not a poet, but….” Guess what? Today’s post
is a poem I wrote. I’m certain I broke every rule in the book, but on the other
hand, I’m beginning to think there are no rules for poetry. (Poets everywhere:
please don’t take me to task for that remark.)
Without
further ado, here’s my effort. Let me know how you like it.
*****
BLUE COLUMBINE
I chance upon you
in the shelter of a towering ponderosa.
Robbed of breath
by your blue beauty, I pause to
glory in your
flawless fives: sepals, petals, pistils.
I know you, Aquilegia
alpina… a perennial, food for ancient aboriginals,
poison for fools
who sample your seeds.
Your blossom, tall
and handsome beyond reason, captures my eye,
and I snap you
from your stem to closer study nature’s perfection.
I carry you,
little dove—pocketed close to my heart—on my return home to
marvel at your
secret shades:
sky blue with
shadows of lavender, hints of cobalt, and wisps of teal.
Alas, you wither
and wilt before your time, despite sips from a crystal urn.
Unable to let go,
I press you between leaves of the Bard’s sonnets.
Days later, you
hold traces of your prior majesty, but the comparison is spare.
To some, columbine
means innocence; to others, foolishness.
Sadly, my latter
has robbed you of your former.
Another season I
tread that trail, anxious to see if you replenished yourself.
There, beneath the
lofty pine, I find your offspring.
And once again, a
single stalwart flower demands attention.
Wiser now, I
forego the plucking of it,
preferring to
tarry and drink my fill while still it lives.
Having learned not
to hold so tightly, so selfishly, so stiflingly,
I walk the path
often to witness your progeny prosper.
Far better to
share that special bloom’s radiance with other passersby.
Until one day I
find it gone, ripped from its stem by some admirer not
yet privy to the
greatest lesson of love.
*****
That’s
it… and it was harder than writing a book. I probably changed every one of the
poem’s 265 words at least 5 times. How do I know it’s a poem since it doesn’t
rhyme? Because it’s centered in the middle of the page, doesn’t follow any of
the formatting rules, and uses punctuation not recognizable to prose writers.
So it has to be a poem.
Seriously,
I’m interested in your reaction to my effort.
Now
my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on
writing. You have something to say, so say it!
My
personal links: (Note the change in the Email address because I’m still getting
remarks on the old dontravis21@gmail.com. PLEASE DON’T USE
THAT ONE.)
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982
Twitter:
@dontravis3
Buy
links to Abaddon’s Locusts:
See
you next week.
Don
New Posts are
published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.
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