08 April 2011

"I Said to Poetry"

From an African American author during National Poetry month:

I Said to Poetry

I said to Poetry: "I'm finished
with you."
Having to almost die
before some wierd light
comes creeping through
is no fun.
"No thank you, Creation,
no muse need apply.
Im out for good times--
at the very least,
some painless convention."
Poetry laid back
and played dead
until this morning.
I wasn't sad or anything,
only restless.

Poetry said: "You remember
the desert, and how glad you were
that you have an eye
to see it with? You remember
that, if ever so slightly?"
I said: "I didn't hear that.
Besides, it's five o'clock in the a.m.
I'm not getting up
in the dark
to talk to you."

Poetry said: "But think about the time
you saw the moon
over that small canyon
that you liked so much better
than the grand one--and how suprised you were
that the moonlight was green
and you still had
one good eye
to see it with

Think of that!"

"I'll join the church!" I said,
huffily, turning my face to the wall.
"I'll learn how to pray again!"

"Let me ask you," said Poetry.
"When you pray, what do you think
you'll see?"

Poetry had me.

"There's no paper
in this room," I said.
"And that new pen I bought
makes a funny noise."

"Bullshit," said Poetry.
"Bullshit," said I.

Written by Alice Walker

Alice Walker is a wise woman and a poet/ writer who understands the world around and within her. You know what she's saying, don't you? But, April is the month that celebrates the taking of pen to paper (or cursor to screen) so that poetry can say to us: "think about the time…" and we do and we capture it.

Do you write poetry?


  1. I don't write poetry, but I do enjoy reading it. My favorite poet is Emily Dickinson, with Mary Oliver close behind.

  2. Yes. I do.
    Sadly, it's true,
    The Muse doth seldom touch me.

    But when she's caught
    I find I ought
    to take advantage quickly

    For she fades fast
    and doesn't last
    for more than a fleeting moment

    and I am left
    alone and bereft
    of anything more than a comment.

  3. DJan, I like Mary Oliver too and have her books to enjoy.
    Lou, Bravo! Complemento!

  4. I've really enjoyed all of your poetry posts. Keep them coming.

  5. Sally, Glad you like- it's national poetry month after all!

  6. See, we can bumble about out here, writing a few lines, and saying to ourselves, that's poetry. Then we read something like this, and remind ourselves what poetry really is.

    But Lou? Bravo, brother!

  7. No, but I am always amazed at people that do.

  8. My problem, Mary, is that all I want to do is write. If I could just keep the dust and cobwebs wiped and the toilet clean . . .

    Ah . . . the moon / over that small canyon . . . it does keep calling and shining. So beautiful.

  9. Nancy, It is amazing, isn't it?
    Ruth, On your deathbed you'll never wish you wiped more cobwebs or toilet. But, oh the memories of the moon over the small canyon. And what if others can see the same thing because of you? Priceless!


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