Tuesday, May 17, 2005


Take in the essence of that first seasonal rain that soaked into the ground
And saturated the prairie air with West-coast dampness
And the sweet-haying-smell of grass clippings
That Hub left by the sidewalk.

The rain hoped for, longed for,
The rain that hung back for so long, with such fear,
That it might just piss a few drops
And find the need to go and the going
A total mismatch.

Add two massive blossom-laden May-day trees and
An apple tree in a lavish new silken burgundy dress,
Rows of marching tulips ready for review and clay-pots on stumps
That I thickly planted with gay flowers
Only yesterday.

Add a gentle mist to the warm air,
That fades the shocking green of leaves and grass
And blurs the landscape into a pastel hue,
And there it is – action in poetry, rather than
Poetry in action.

An action to immortalize and elevate realism. To grab a common thing
And aptly shrink-wrap it with memory, nostalgia, (dampness and rheumatism),
Into a cocoon for safe-keeping spun with sturdy fibers
Of pentameter, verse, eulogy, rhythm
And balladry.

I’ve wrapped up the moment – now where should I stash it?
Under the apple tree or out in the Blogospere? Or should I hand it over

To a wandering minstrel?


Blogger RP said...

That felt like poetry. Very nice on an otherwise crazed day.

10:33 AM  
Blogger Roberta said...

Hi rp. I hope this simple attempt at free verse gladdened today for a few, but since they were too shy to let me know, I doubly appreciate your comment.

1:30 AM  
Blogger RP said...

It was the least I could do, considering the pains you went to and the enjoyment it gave me.

3:28 PM  

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