simplicity

poets again..

To be read and admired
is not the only motivation
to evoke poetry

because
I knew a poet who wrote on bills and tissue paper
while sipping his favorite wine or in awkward spots
where You and I,
would dare not think of a poem
leave alone write it down.
Almost inevitably,
he used to hold his bills and tissues
whenever the west wind blew
towards the east setting sun
out from his balcony that oversaw
the lonely town where he lived.
The parchment of course, almost always flew away
Never to be owned
rediscovered
and named
by our fellow, anonymous crazy poet friend.

I sometimes stood below his window
aware of his peculiar practice,
tried to grab on to
whatever piece of parchment that I could
bring them home
take some verbs and adjectives
out of them,
quite enough
to make them mine.

I know a lonely girl
who once found his parchment
and she started dancing with herself
when it started to rain
asking the town ahead of her
"Smile, Smile sometimes for the evening sun".

To be read and admired
is almost not always
the only desire to put words together
in lyrical forms

because I knew a poet
who wrote poems in mind
recited them to himself
facing the mirror
when he shaved.
His wife scolded him
he was always spending
too much time in the bathroom
He only smiled and said
"Slowness, eh ".
I never heard his poems
because I never shaved with him
but his bathroom walls changed color
pecan blue to apple green
and the door started to creak when pushed.

The reader and the poet has a strange connection
because the reader reads and the poet writes
and sometimes the poet desires no readers
because

I knew a fellow poet
who said he was a mathematician
and that he scribbled equations
wherever he could and that
decoding them
would unlock
a whirlpool of poems
but none,
really no-one attempted his
string theories,
his visually concocted math.
Of course, he wanted effort
before his words could see
the light of the day
and hence they never did.
Except the janitor who liked to
pick the chalk and solve equations
leave anonymous solutions
on green, outdoor boards.

I also know myself who writes
to be read and admired
double checking every damn word
saving
reading and re-reading
reciting them
in conferences and poetry sessions
smiling petulantly or sometimes disconnectedly
publishing two poetry books a year
Random House, both
and
yet
the girl in the rain
never gets to read my poem
and my bathroom walls stay ocher yellow since forever
and janitors certainly rebuke me for staying late.


© Nothing Personal. May 13, 2011.

Reviews

[Truman S. Booth]

Oh-ho-ho! My friend, you are a master. Truly, this is incredible. There are so many layers of beauty here, I can't even think of anything to say. I don't like reviews that do little more than say "this was good" or praise the author, but I can find nothing, NO-THING in this poem to criticize, correct, or even specifically compliment. It's just too beautiful--the way it all worked together: the flow, the imagery-laden examples, like stories within poems within stories....

Wow. I'm just ramblin' now. Doesn't even make sense. You've sent me a-ramblin'. Congratulations on this masterpiece. Your work always astounds me. I'd love to know the inspiration for this one. Spectacularly done.

[ImagineItAll]

This was brilliant! What an amazing perspective and an amazing way to write it! I will never forget this poem!

[Mauricio Montoya]

at some point I can relate to this piece cause Ive done some of my work in bars and some on napkins and others just roll in my head.
Excellent write.

[Art Sun]

what a great write my friend...I guess I could say we as poet's seek that idea of reviews and yet it is always the first thought, that first scribble from our minds that captures ourselves first and we unknowingly review our own thoughts and then we expose them to others just to see if they can decipher our interior...truly nice work...

[Tina Kline]

I really love this one. It describes all the many sides of the creative mind and there is really no true reason people write except for the words in their minds that create stories and poems and everything in between. What comes after wards depends on the individual and perhaps motivation, chance and opportunity.

[FocusedAmnesia]

This is... so incredibly beyond amazing! It flowed like a poem, read like a story, and was just so beautiful. It has this simplicity about it, but it is so deep, so filled with meaning. I love this piece.

[SpokenWord]

It is hard to capture the heart of the poet, motivation comes from within but purpose can be for any number of reasons that is defined to each poet. Your poetic view on poets and readers lean toward the gift, the art, creative spirit that is pure in some poets and in some readers. This read effortlessly, smooth and poetic with a touch of beauty to set it apart.

[Poeticadia]

A wonderful collage of poetic narratives that express the significance of poetry in peoples lives. The poem dances down the page, balletically woven together with its insistant refrain before tumbling into the antithesis in the last stanza... that says so much about the reality for many of us! I'm sure many of us wished we lived within one of the first stanzas!

[YouoweYoupay]

Nicely done. I especially LOVED the part where the wall colors of the bathroom changed. Like magic. :) Poetry is everywhere, not just in minds of people who want attention, praise, or whatever. Poetry is power. An escape. A river of imagination only us writers understand. Poetry is in the rythms of music. Poetry is music. Poetry is beauty. It is what a writer like me holds on to before going insane. Excellent thought-provoking vivid write. 100