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Eating Wind and Drinking Rain
| Open Poetry #39 |
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Eating Wind and Drinking Rain |
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Grinch Member Elite
since 2005-12-31
Posts 2929Whoville |
Thirty-nine sad years to death and still I try To match a child’s sublime perfection: “ I eat the wind and drink the rain. “ It humbled Him on Fern Hill in the spring And beggars me a lesser man the same, What chance have my words faced with these? Winter posts fresh doily stamps on glass, Arthritis screams in pain and I at panes That telegraph another year undone. I’m tired of counting useless days On calendars decked out in loons That marks each poem passing into trash. A riot bleating springtime through the field. Those bouncing bobs whose cares are short No rhymes for them; no meter slipped or shorn. I hate the spring the budding and the birth; No screams for them “I eat the wind” To wake them sweating in the night Summer – thighs all waxed and white. The only good that comes from heat. Long days of sun and nights of pain “I drink the rain” she said, SHE said, While I’m still scratching reasons Into lines that make less sense. Well named the fall, I lose more every year. They beat the flies to ground round here Rhyme-free square mounds to count them down And guide my way. If my time ever comes Score deep these lines above my grave “He never ate the wind nor drank the rain.” |
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ThisDiamond Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353Michigan, USA |
Ahhh, but did you ever notice, those lines you scratch fill with the waters of an endless sky? Cool write. TD |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
"While I’m still scratching reasons Into lines that make less sense." Me too. But I've also enjoyed a sip of rain and the taste of a breeze. |
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