birthday

another birthday

and as usual

he awoke

thinking

about the

three dead mice

and how the poor things

must have

fallen into the can 

and starved to death

 

one 

had probably survived

a bit longer 

for it found

salvation

in the tissues

of the others

and when

he cradled it

in his hand

the creature

broke apart like

a puffball and

the brown spores

living smoke

filled his nostril

and went about 

their important 

business

 

Reviews

[bookworm]

You're poetry should come with a frigging warning sign....something like, "No skin, no s**t, no service". You are such an endless chamber of curiosities, mister....I end up feeling a bit like a concerned mum after I read your "unique" contributions.....as in, "Oh geez...honey, are you sure everything's okay? You know how I worry." :) However, as I've mentioned before, somehow you convey these ideas in fascinating, albeit disturbing, meaty prose. Pretty effing cool...Happy birthday if it is indeed your's. If not, let them eat cake...with worm guts and rat urine in it.....:)

[Eilis]

There are a few pathways my mind takes when reading this. The cycle of life, the mute continuity of life in the face of horrible things, the reality that when one person is celebrating there are countless others suffering. So much of our “happiness” or comfort is built directly or indirectly through the suffering of others. And we have to face the fact that in order for new life to exist, death must be a constant presence as well. Life depends on death in myriad ways. And human contentment often depends on another person or animal or landscape suffering. But so much of this is remote from our hands. We aren’t active participants (or so we think) and so can feel some distance from it. But things intrude as reminders. Your poem offers a sort of circle of suffering. We think of suffering as punishment but often it is much more banal than that. It is just part of the experience of living. The speaker seems to recognize this circle/cycle but also to feel somewhat distanced from it. Or perhaps it’s resignation. That I’m less sure about. The image of the third mouse is powerful to me. The two polar realities meet and we are left wondering what will come next. We do know enough to guess at a few possibilities. But perhaps the not knowing for sure makes the future bearable.

[SkinlessFrank]

Thanks Ellis. I always gain reflection and perspective from your reviews. This piece stems from a real event. Our home in Glen Sutton is an old country place with many places where mice can gain entrance. I have to make certain not to leave any deep containers open, lest they fall in. Sometimes, by the time I discover their ancient corpses, not much is left, and my mind is sent off in directions wondering about their final days, which makes me puzzle about how life itself is an oddity, the fact that we are sentient beings at this particular time and place rather than in some other realm, or not ever is some parallel universe where life never became manifest. I suppose that
is the biologist in me coming to the fore.

[emmajoygreen]

I don't know why I'm reviewing a twelve year old poem but it turned up and begged a few words. Well, as it contents is not what I'd expect to be the finest birthday yetis the ugliest unique one, can only hope your celebrations brought forth happier, less weird celebrations since whenever. 'Our is not to reason why', sez I

[Sami Khalil]

Birthday or not, life and its critters move on, keep doing their things.
Amazing what we think of when our birthday is at hand.

[AYVID N]

What a birthday present!
Truly delightful to read!
I love your poetry.

[Lisasview]

First read of yours and I did like it... Even though it is rather weird...
I think of it as metaphors of life..
Not sure if you planned it that way?
Lisa, now in Spain

[Ciara]

Hi Frank, this curious poem has me thinking about how precious life is. We endure, if we are lucky.

[Beccy]

It is a sobering thought that most insignificant little pebble on the beach will outlive our human span by an uncountable number; but that of course, is to ignore those 'little brown spores,' going about their important business of rebirth.

Really enjoyed this.

Beccy.

[. serah .]

-- ah... i'm reading this as an epic... -- it seems to me that the speaker in this poem is raising the issue of how perplexing it is that humans live for so long while other beings have a rough time surviving... -- and i think to question this issue is to question the universe itself... for it's all about which being lives and for how long... (in a sense)...

and

-- it's happened again... this post reminds me of a kinda nursery rhyme i was taught centuries ago (when i was still in kindergarten)... "three blind mice, see how they run, they all ran after the farmer's wife, who cut off their tails with a carving knife, did you ever see such thing in your life, as three blind mice"... and it also reminds me of what my father said when i wanted to invite my friends over for my 13th birthday... he quoted a proverb and said... 'fools give feast and wise men eat'... -- that was the end of the party before it took off... -- both these things are things i haven't thought about in at least two decades...

[...]

Yep, that's exactly what I think about on my birthday...lol Life must go on,anyway, anyway at all. You certainly are unique. I like unique :) Thanks for the poetic alchemy, my friend. Hahaha

[sienikeha]

ha! brilliant. lol