may be the result of a number
of factors coming together
such as a strong wind multiplied
with other effects
the point is
you don't know it's coming
your life is really okay
your life is going as planned
your sea is calm
you take
your ordinary lunch with
a glass of red wine
you are actually bored
preoccupied
honestly the world
is dead except
unknown to you
there's the wave
the anomaly
the wine you notice
is a little bitter
tastes too much of oak
your bread is dry and those
birds in the distance
they are nothing but gulls
*I've been thinking a lot about the rogue wave that struck the cruise ship recently. It seemed to me to be a perfect metaphor for the things in life that we never see coming. This is just a raw, rough draft, but I really needed to get it down. My blog is so great because it always invites me to compose.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
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Dreaming
About Me
- Theresa Williams
- Northwest Ohio, United States
- "I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken
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Fave Painting: Eden
Fave Painting: The Three Ages of Man and Death
by Albrecht Dürer
From the First Chapter
The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.
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1 comment:
I love this Theresa, especially, "you take / your ordinary lunch with / a glass of red wine / you are actually bored".
I've been working lately on the transition from being in school to not being in school, and I've found myself doing a lot of waiting for something to happen instead of making something happen. This is not really related to what I see as the thrust of your poem, but I think it's on the periphery, a different spin. Waiting for a wave instead of creating one.
I love poetry that spurs connections, close and far.
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