Monday, December 12, 2011

the poets, did you notice

reading the great
and the unknown,
i notice, above all, variety.
a myriad of blizzard snowflakes.

while standing by the pond’s edge
watching frogs, thinking, i am
– what the hell,
there’s life going on in the pond

not even human, will never write a book,
march on parade,
make a movie seen in Bedouin tents,
or circle the globe, be reported in the press;

and i’ve seen poor families, or a word less than poor
living in filthy ruined cardboard boxes
on the hill, the inland side
of Acapulco, the side never seen, not talked about.

their love, hope, dreams and pain,
swirl together in heat, cold and rain,
and they won’t write anything for posterity.
some can’t write their name.

good words somewhere, for you and i,though,
good songs of life, there are.
that’s how it goes, variety,
in these days we have,

tumbling together,
some better than others.
as it goes rolling on and on,
and on and us with it, and on.

1 comment:

Annie said...

I've often thought that the emotions of happiness, or the sensations of pain, or the heartache of grief or loneliness- is the same, whether you are living in that cardboard box or in a mansion; the writers, artists and musicians among us are able to express emotion,isolate and define it, but all of us are feeling it. Variety in so many ways, but in other ways, we are the same; and that's what makes life special. I embrace variety.