The New Poetry
I
The new poetry
comes in shining
metal boxes
covered in glass
so you can peer in.
The new poetry
comes in shining
metal boxes
covered in glass
so you can peer in.
Pull this lever --
wit.
Turn here for meaning,
but not too far
or you will find
5,000 synonyms
for cinnamon
covering your shoe.
I do it because I am drowning
slowly.
It's better now, really.
I've kicked off my shoes
and taken off my shirt,
but still.
I am tired of the doggie paddle.
And even a master
of the breaststroke
would not have the strength
to go on.
And the storms keep coming,
water rises.
If only you could look in,
-- observe
and with a flick of the switch
send me to the shore.
You could be the deus
ex machina --
the designer, the maker,
the proof behind the
divine.
wit.
Turn here for meaning,
but not too far
or you will find
5,000 synonyms
for cinnamon
covering your shoe.
Spinning truth.
Did you not get the
memo in grad school?
Truth does not exist,
but God does,
a Rube Goldberg device
that goes round and round
-- you say,
and where she stops
kerplop.
memo in grad school?
Truth does not exist,
but God does,
a Rube Goldberg device
that goes round and round
-- you say,
and where she stops
kerplop.
Is that neat enough for
you?
Rubes.
II
you?
Rubes.
II
I do it because I am drowning
slowly.
It's better now, really.
I've kicked off my shoes
and taken off my shirt,
but still.
I am tired of the doggie paddle.
And even a master
of the breaststroke
would not have the strength
to go on.
And the storms keep coming,
water rises.
If only you could look in,
-- observe
and with a flick of the switch
send me to the shore.
You could be the deus
ex machina --
the designer, the maker,
the proof behind the
divine.
Start the wheel in
motion.
Save me.
motion.
Save me.
Is that cinnamon
I smell?
Imagine.
I smell?
Imagine.
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Author's Note
An experiment/poem.
Other stories by Alba Brunetti
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I like the meandering thought process here. Good imagination.
Thank you!
The opening figure is a lovely combination of malice and delight.
Thank you for that comment, Gary. I wanted to see if I could play with opposites and also balance them in the poem.
An experiment perhaps, but a successful experiment in my opinion!
Very good poem, Amanda.
*
"I do it because I am drowning
slowly."
Very fine!
Why I called you Amanda, i don't know. Sorry, Alba!
Thank you so much, Bill, for taking the time to read my poem and your very generous comments! To have someone of your calibre and passion read it - and take the time to comment - means so much to me. Thank you! (And no worries about calling me Amanda - I have a niece and she's an Amanda. So it made me smile when I read it.)