I thought I was going to have to bypass this week's Poetry Thursday post, but I managed to start something this afternoon. It's in first draft and very rough, but I thought it was worth putting out there. I've been on the phone to my mother this evening. A series of tornadoes has hit the Taranaki area. One went right through Mum and Dad's street, hitting houses all around them but missing their place. They apparently have pieces of their neighbour's garage in their back yard and are missing part of their fence. Poor Mum is pretty shaken up, but they will be ok. It seems fitting therefore that today's poem was about the outdoors.
Winter Thursday 2007
I’ve been sitting here
all week fulfilling some
politician’s desire to seek out
a non-existent whiff of scandal,
hitting print and killing trees,
cultivating repetitive strain injury.
Outside the sky has hardened
and is pressing on the pine
trees in the Botanical Gardens.
It must have flattened some as
a helicopter is spiriting them away.
Tomorrow you and I should
go seeking entertainment carried
on the steel edges of a breeze
sharpened by the Kaikouras.
We will insulate our brittle bones,
wrap them in merino and
sheath them with polarfleece.
I want to collect päua and seaweed,
gather the discards of passing ships.
We can tramp coarse sand back
to our house where it will settle
into the cracks in our floorboards,
bringing the sea to whisper
under our feet where waves will
sing lullabies with the wind.
I’ve been sitting here
all week fulfilling some
politician’s desire to seek out
a non-existent whiff of scandal,
hitting print and killing trees,
cultivating repetitive strain injury.
Outside the sky has hardened
and is pressing on the pine
trees in the Botanical Gardens.
It must have flattened some as
a helicopter is spiriting them away.
Tomorrow you and I should
go seeking entertainment carried
on the steel edges of a breeze
sharpened by the Kaikouras.
We will insulate our brittle bones,
wrap them in merino and
sheath them with polarfleece.
I want to collect päua and seaweed,
gather the discards of passing ships.
We can tramp coarse sand back
to our house where it will settle
into the cracks in our floorboards,
bringing the sea to whisper
under our feet where waves will
sing lullabies with the wind.
12 comments:
Sorry to hear about the tornadoes, glad your parents will be okay! I enjoyed your poem, especially the ending.
Best to your folks!
Enjoyed your piece. I got a bit of a shiver reading it, and it was 90 degrees here in Portland, Oregon on this 4th of July -- American Independence Day.
Fascinating piece of write about the tornado.
glad to hear your parents are ok. I really like the poem. such a peaceful sounding poem about such a destructive and chaotic subject. great contrast
I loved teh ending - the idea of bringing teh beach home to nestle under the floorboards.
what a wonderful poem! I wish I could string together words like this. I really liked how the chaos of the tornado was matched with the chaos in the world
hehe, between the twisters at their new place, and the floods at the old one..... it's kinda biblical etc :)
Glad they are ok :)
I like this very much, especially from "Tomorrow" on. And like Juliet, I think the last bit is especially strong. I loved the idea of the sand/nature coming in the home.
Sorry your parent's fear brought this on (and that they are safe), but the poem has beauty.
I'm glad your parents are ok -- that was too close. I really like your poem, and the line "bringing the sea to whisper under our feet" is so lovely.
The insulation of brittle bones really got me. Also the nice contrast between intentional collection of sea souvenirs (paua and seaweed) and the less intentional, but perhaps more meaningful sand.
I love how you transform daily life (with all the ups and downs) into something beautiful by looking at it from a different angle (the sky pressing the trees down). And like others have said, the ending is so powerful!
Enjoyed this a great deal. You portrayed so much with so few words. Lovely!
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