POETRY
Today I am unhappy with my poetry.
Last night I read Billy Collins' The Night House. THAT is poetry!
Sometimes when I read great poetry---sometimes---I am inspired to write, and sometimes I am ashamed to pretend that I can.
So I went back and read some of my old poetry. This one, I wrote four and a half years ago, this one, I still like. It is not great---but I like it. I am not ashamed to say that it is my creation.
LOVE CAN’T
Love can’t taste of singing hearts,
Or smell like painted dreams,
When paper flowers are vased in shame,
And die from silent screams.
Love can’t write a laughing voice,
Or hear a sunrise bold,
When paper dolls are folded twice,
And left out in the cold.
Love can’t feel the moon’s pale glow,
Or catch the stars that fall,
When valentines are made of glass,
And thrown against the wall.
I can’t know the love you feel,
Or hope to understand,
If you don’t speak what’s in your heart,
And reach out for my hand.
Norvona Jackson 1/29/02
Last night I read Billy Collins' The Night House. THAT is poetry!
Sometimes when I read great poetry---sometimes---I am inspired to write, and sometimes I am ashamed to pretend that I can.
So I went back and read some of my old poetry. This one, I wrote four and a half years ago, this one, I still like. It is not great---but I like it. I am not ashamed to say that it is my creation.
LOVE CAN’T
Love can’t taste of singing hearts,
Or smell like painted dreams,
When paper flowers are vased in shame,
And die from silent screams.
Love can’t write a laughing voice,
Or hear a sunrise bold,
When paper dolls are folded twice,
And left out in the cold.
Love can’t feel the moon’s pale glow,
Or catch the stars that fall,
When valentines are made of glass,
And thrown against the wall.
I can’t know the love you feel,
Or hope to understand,
If you don’t speak what’s in your heart,
And reach out for my hand.
Norvona Jackson 1/29/02
posted by Norvona | 10:18 AM
2 Comments:
Hi Norvona, I had a couple of post catch-up to do, so I have just read your last few days 'back-to-back' - had you realised how well the last bit of the poem dovetails into your writing about friends?
Well, at least it does to me, sometimes we just need to remind ourselves we need to reach out - except that for me I have others who do it, that is, present me with just the answer, or the key I need, to make sense of some things at particular times.
This is interesting, I have spent a good deal of my time working with exactly the person you described being presented with a move to the world of computers.
I was a computer 'consultant' and trainer, going way back to the early days of computers. Working with clients from all sorts of different places. Others used to ask me, 'don't you get bored, working with computers all day?' and of course I didn't, because I did not work with computers, I worked with people...
I was the kind lady who held your hand and showed you how not to be afraid - do you remember me? Or, of course, somebody very like me ..
HA ... this inspiration thing is a two-way street! I've just been thinking about using some old stuff about my early involvement with the computer.. thanks
That's a very nice poem Norvona, and certainly not one to be ashamed of.
Post a Comment
<< Home