|Poetry and Prose
My poems resemble the bread of Egypt--one night
passes over it, and you can't eat it anymore.
So gobble them down now, while they're still fresh,
before the dust of the world settles on them.
Where a poem belongs is here, in the warmth of the chest;
out in the world it dies of cold.
You've seen a fish--put him on dry land,
he quivers for a few minutes, and then is still.
And even if you eat my poems while they're still fresh,
you still have to bring forward many images yourself.
Actually, friend, what you're eating is your own imagination.
These are not just a bunch of old proverbs.
Words belong in the heart.
They need to be warmed by the heart or they die of cold.
The words of a poem are meant to awaken our imagination
rather than understanding something with the mind.
Words mean to draw us, to call us into a journey, a pilgrimage within our interior
We can so easily loose the freshness of a word if we let it lay out in the cold
like a fish out of water.
Words can quickly die.
And if words die in us, we will quiver and then be still.
The words of poems have become some of my dearest friends.
Just as in friendships,
words need a warm heart to thrive in.
|I get tired of getting all those pennies back in change
when I go to the store.
Ya, ya... pennies make the dollars.
I know that.
However, that does not change my feelings.
I just get tired of carrying around all those pennies all the time.
they must feel a lot of rejection from me. :(
Well, I wrote a little poem one day about this experience.
I went to a grocery store
and she gave me back 4 pennies.
I just asked her to keep them aside
and help the next person out that needed pennies.
She said she had a little penny cup just for that. :))
Here is my little poem:
"I leave four pennies behind
To be put into the penny cup.
Whenever I need one----
I don't ask.
It must be a crime.
I wonder what other things I don't ask for?"
|Links from this page:
Poetry/Prose: Part I
Poetry/Prose: Part II--Commitment
Things that Stop and Go No Farther