Gardener-poet looming over geraniums
who once was a boy in an elm
and might have crashed through greenery
or been lost in the dirt
among beetles and slugs,
or been lifted like a kite
by the Big Wind.
December windows look out
on a Michigan landscape ...
poet in fur coat,
a bear on his morning trail,
looking for signs
among the snow and fir trees
dreaming of endless journeys
on a road that trails off
into oblivion, a middle-age crisis,
bar stool crucifixion,
switched-off engine,
eyes empty of hope,
pencil dolorous and kept in pocket
not moving over fresh pages
or flying like the oriole.
The sun loosens the iron grip of winter
and the poet loose and limber
plunges into the river.
Ah, the old passions still loom large in the land of the waterlily, our Ken. Takes me back to Yorkshire days. Blimey, I thought it was cold here tonight with sub-zero temps even down here on the south coast - goodness knows how the tups are doing up by the Settle-Carlisle railway, old son! :)) Glad to see your editorial finger is still very active - you are so prolific, the last I looked it was your seahorse write which totally cracked me up as singularly brilliant. Perhaps you have a hermaphrodite soul, like me. Many Christmas kisses to you Ken and my good wishes for much wind in your willows in 2009. You old Baron, you! :)) ArvonKalling Kate xx
this was by far my favorite read for the night. thank you. regards, anne
Reviewed by Ed Lupinacci (Reader)
Reviewed on September 18, 2003
great write but tell me is there something hidden in the title
just wondering with all the hidden goodies in the poem and the name seems like it could mean something if rearanged
Applauds!!L-o-v-e this line...
"bar stool crucifixion"
I will remember that one for a
long time!
Maria
Reviewed by ya mama (Reader)
Reviewed on September 16, 2003
dear sir, this is a wonderful poem. the only thing i question is "springy" in the 2nd to last line. i'm not sure if this is the right word. but other than that small detail, this is great and i look forward to more.
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
In the Whirlwind is a poetic storm that frees history from the cages of corruption and puts it in the hands of everyday people. Words are weaved into a new fashion statement that has nothing to do with runways but everything to do with projects!
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Regis
just wondering with all the hidden goodies in the poem and the name seems like it could mean something if rearanged
"bar stool crucifixion"
I will remember that one for a
long time!
Maria