I think adjectives are underrated
and I am very particular about prepositions
I have been to Samarkand, I have seen a courtyard
decorated for a wedding, long tables set out
under the trees, all the place settings adorned
with oranges and Coca-Cola
I am not very fond
of any of my names
I have a sister, I have ten living cousins
and one dead, I know the full names
of all my great-grandparents, I spend too much time
thinking about how genes are sorted and combined
(Some things go here
that can’t be discussed in public)
I appreciate how elephants communicate,
over great distances and in such low tones
that no one but other elephants can hear them
As a child I spent a lot of time in the attic
visiting the unwanted things
I am clumsy, I can’t throw balls
or catch or hit them, I’m always falling,
I have bruises I don’t understand,
I’m always bleeding somewhere,
learning the steps of the simplest dance
is utterly beyond me, when I stand
and talk with people I’m never sure
where to put my hands or head,
I’m never really sure
where any of the parts of my body are anyway
My car is yellow,
my bedroom is purple,
I dream in color
In the first dream I remember
Dracula chained me in the attic
and flew in every night
to see how I was getting on
I don’t like birds I might just be jealous
I read the same books
over and over, always order
the same thing off the menu,
hardly ever take up
with anyone new,
do you understand
what I’m saying
I sleep on my left side. I am lying on it now.
It’s cold in this room, the window might be open,
it’s November now, it’s dark, the cat
is pressing herself into my leg, my birthday
is in February, I’m a winter child, did I mention
I’m cold, always cold, and this poem
is shuddering with cold
and terror
Game 7 . . . or the election . . . ah, this was a really nice diversion!!
I enjoyed this Melissa! So glad to see you back.
Tell us more. (Wally won’t mind.)
I’ve been checking in almost weekly in anticipation… rewarded at last with a fine rumination from the winter child particular about prepositions. Bravo!
You made me think …
I am not very fond of any of my names
I have nine living cousins and one dead, I know the full names of all my great-grandparents
My car is black
my bedroom yellow
I dream in colour
I go to sleep on my right side, wake up on my back …
Thank you Melissa – we could make a whole world poem from this one of yours, and every one would be different!
thanks sandra. 🙂 I like your variation…
haven’t been right since the election
hard time writing
kind of requires hope doesn’t it
or maybe it’s the hope when there’s not much to be found
but I knew it was still there somewhere
your words
your poem
reminded me: okay maybe I can write my way through this
great stuff and liked your otata poems too.
I’m trying to get hope back myself. Let me know if you figure out where it’s hiding.
Perfect World
a small collection of optimism
from a winter cynic hoping for hope
first snow
the thought of it
before opening my eyes
scraping by
another white Christmas
in a one-plow town
our long beach walk
takes most of the morning
shortest day
fake news
hit on the head
by a piece of sky
the snow globe
drawn into its
perfect world