Rough-hewn iron
In the rain
No cars
No pets
Only cringing spiders
Webbed in sparkles
Under tree limbs
I watch them
And walk around them
Cautiously
Unwilling to feel the thread
Or their unwelcome legs
Unwilling to harm
Their world
My feet are only noise
Beneath me
My sweat no more a scent
Than newly fallen rain
And we are one
The night and me
Wet, glistening, new
We smile to each other
Knowingly
In parting
As dawn breaks.
You’re starting to inspire me to try and write a poem... nice work keep them coming.
ReplyDeleteI love those glistening spiderwebs. My Goth freaks out.
ReplyDeleteNothing like a communing with nature whilst moving through it with purpose. Inspiration abounds.
ReplyDeleteAnother good one.
Oh, Jeff that would be awesome! Hopefully if some of my students start in, they'll see poetry isn't just cryptic writing meant to be "figured out"... I saw their glassy eyes in class yesterday, and it made me feel sad.
ReplyDeleteThe Mother: I can't say I blame the Goth, but I just don't feel that way. I hate messing with their webs, though--I feel like a bull in a china shop, knocking over everything. Besides, ghost hunters willingly investigate haunted houses, but are often afraid of spiders (and heights, and flying).
Thanks, Eric!
Have your students read generally Bukowski for a day and the next day have them read Confession by him. Inarguable with me the best example of a love poem ever written. They may get poetry then.
ReplyDelete