It’s summer, I’m not as prolific as I’d like to be at the moment, so I thought, for the benefit of some of my newer friends and for some of you long-standing companions, I would post an old poem that I came across the other day as I was weeding out some of the crud in my documents files. Whew! My English teachers would definitely frown on that run-on sentence!
Anyway, they’re not here, so we’ll just ignore that!
This poem came about as the result of somebody’s meme with a series of random phrases that were meant to be finished by participants. I chose to do it in poetry form.
When you read this, you will know much more about who Poetikat really is. (If you dare!)
After six, it’s Corrie time
Hold all calls, leave the dish grime
When “Street”-inhabitants present
Their daily dramas, that’s our bent.
It doesn’t matter we can’t afford
A flash, new car—we’re in accord;
As long as we have food to eat
And roof o’erhead; we feel replete.
In another life, perhaps
I would have married other chaps
And lived in great, gargantuan home
But have no time to write a poem.
My mother always said (and does so still)
“I’ve got news for you” which sent a chill
Up my spine (‘twas her intent),
Though her intentions weren’t ill-meant.
At the wake of my father he’s asked to be propped
In his corner-casket, before he’s dropped
Into the grave, ceremoniously
And he wants a drink in his hand, for free.
Consideration brings the sense
Of humanness and recompense
For wrongs I’ve done–I’m doing right
And sleep comes faster in the night.
In 1986, my cares were few
With a new degree to hold claim to,
Yet my ambition held no sport
For sleep, and play held more import.
Don’t laugh, but I’m truly scared of things
Like wasps and bees that bear their stings
In fact I even went so far
As to jump from out a moving car.
Without hesitation, I’d marry him again
Despite how he sometimes irks me so when
He leaves things around; but then, don’t they all?
That’s the worst I can say, and that’s pretty small.
Ordinarily I never, but in this case,
I have to admit, if I could, I’d erase
Some words I’ve had lately with my mother, dear;
It’s funny how afterwards, everything’s clear.
I was driving to nowhere…the other day
It’s way too darn cold, so enhoused, here I stay
Until the sun shines and the temperatures rise
I think that mobiling an auto’s unwise.
In my mind there’s a deep drawer
Filled with mental files and more
A word and image reference
Systemless with sometime-sense.
©2008 – Kathleen Mortensen