I’m not going to talk about world events on my blog today. I’m not qualified, and we all have our own thoughts and feelings about various situations. I don’t want to make the din louder without contributing anything of value.
So…poetry. I’ve been doing a new thing for a few days, inspired by a tweet that basically said, “All poetry is a line about something you saw followed by nonsense.” I’ve been taking little mental snapshots of my day and trying to weave strange but relatable story-feelings from them.
It’s been equal parts Mad Hatter and potentially helpful so far. 😀 When you read both of these, you’ll know I’ve been spending a lot of time in my flower beds lately!
First attempt (a rare piece that’s NOT about my love, heh):
blue ink scratched stubbornly across the page–
a grasshopper igniting lilies,
tilting us all toward midnight
as sound pours like wine from all corners,
steeped in casks of reasonless days;
scorched timbers racing toward earth,
a sunset come again and again
until ashes mix in our tainted mouths
and we cough roses into swollen rivers,
saving thorns on our tongues for later.
-Mel Eatherington, 08.14.21
But then on the second attempt things went right back into sappy:
beetles wait,
hidden gems sleeping in the grass
til warmth rouses them to scale green heights,
shining in the careless sun.
i don’t wonder what my lover sees
as the dreams that bore us across night’s terrain
fade in the glowing gold as we stir —
time stains my shell with the passing years,
with summer’s gilt and winter’s rime,
but he knows beneath my armorless skin
i am climbing, iridescent.
-Mel Eatherington, 08.16.21
What do you think? Is this an exercise you could see yourself using?
melstery.com 