Yet another ode

My family always accuses me of writing depressing poetry. But that’s not true! I’ve written many funny or random things in the past. For example, there’s my poem called “The Challenge.” And there’s also my poem about Chinese buns!

Now here’s a new one! It’s dedicated to my office plant. I originally bought the plant from Walmart when I was living in Ottawa and feeling a bit down. The thing had become my staunch companion and has survived being moved from Ottawa to Owen Sound to Toronto to Owen Sound to Montreal. It’s obviously very hardy.

I was first struck with the idea of writing a haiku to it.

Droopy potted plant
Seeks to brighten grey office.
Monday. New week starts.

And then I was inspired to continue writing about it, so I went into a free verse poem.

My little sad plant holds the darkness at bay.
It strives ever upward, spreading magnificence
Against austere white walls and corporate gleam.
It hushes the cold whir of electronics
And clamours for you to pause,
To admire its emerald splendour.
My little sad plant, ever loyal,
Helps me to get through day after day.

And then I was still inspired, so I changed it into a rhyming couplet.

Against my office’s austere white walls and corporate gleam,
A splash of colour interrupts the scheme.
My little potted plant holds the dreariness at bay.
Emerald elegance it does convey.
Its very stillness clamours for you to pause,
To admire it. Why? Just because.
It strives to brighten our day
Through colour, beauty, and every way.
My little sad plant, staunch friend,
We’ll be together till the very end.

My favourite parts of the poem:
- corporate gleam
- “Its very stillness clamours for you to pause”
In the second last line I originally described it as my “staunch companion.” I like that word better, but I couldn’t find a nice rhyme to end it with.

So there you go. Not everything that I write is sad and depressing!

Death Of My Neighbor

Death of my neighbour

With me he tried to plead
But his words I did not heed.
He had tried to convince,
But stubborn, I clung to my grievance.

He used the word ‘prejudice’,
But I knew I was right about this.
He then branded me bigot,
And many other things that I forget.

In response I told him what people really thought
Gave him knowledge that he hadn’t sought.
I fought back, told him the reality,
Unknowingly wounding him mortally.

They found his body on a Monday,
Hanging from the rafters above the hay.
I got away with murder that day,
And ever since for my soul I pray

Killin' Momma

Finish your ciggy quickly
Because trouble is brewin’.
Too long we’ve ignored things.
Momma’s done playin’.
She gave us our chance
But all we did was waste it.
Now momma’s real mad.
She’s angry, throwing a fit.
She’s hangin’ us out to dry
Takin’ away what was ours.
You can deny it all you want
From your tall white towers,
But you can’t deny the truth.
Momma’s flipped and I’m glad.
She’s raging and crying.
Turns out the she isn’t just a fad.
As her gaunt children stare
We’ll bluster and reject.
Hide the evidence behind deceit
While everything gets wrecked.
We’ll give her bandaids while
The wounds underneath fester,
Say that it just needs time,
That things will get better.
Even as her limbs wither
And our hearts start the shrivel,
We’ll ignore the symptoms
Saying that it’s naught but drivel.
As we die with her they’ll rage
“She didn’t tell us, she didn’t say!”
They’ll get silence because
Momma we did slay.

Okay, if you need this one spelled out for you, it's about the environmental crisis. Below is a couple of explanations as to why I wrote what I did. Oh, and the rhyming pattern is ABCB. I was originally going to try to make this topic into a parody of "Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night" by Dylan Thomas, but then I realized that was a lot of rhyming and I got lazy.

Killin’ Momma

Finish your ciggy quickly
I originally wrote, "Chug that soda down quickly". I wanted to refer to the health/excess crisis that's going on. I figured "ciggy" would be better, because it's also something ridiculously unhealthy we do but it also contributes more directly to air pollution.
Because trouble is brewin’.
Too long we’ve ignored things.
Momma’s done playin’.
"Momma" refers to Mother Nature.
She gave us our chance
But all we did was waste it.
Now momma’s real mad.
She’s angry, throwing a fit.
She’s hangin’ us out to dry
Takin’ away what was ours.
The two lines above are meant to refer to global warming, how dry areas are drying further and how we're losing access to what we think of as human rights (e.g. less water, etc.)
You can deny it all you want
From your tall white towers,
Tall White Towers refers to politicians and others who deny the evidence of climate change.
But you can’t deny the truth.
Momma’s flipped and I’m glad.
She’s raging and crying.
This is a loose reference to forest fires and floods. I doubt anyone could catch that reference without me explaining it.
Turns out the she isn’t just a fad.
As her gaunt children stare
"Gaunt children" are a reference to the starving children who are being affected by the environmental crisis.
We’ll bluster and reject.
Hide the evidence behind deceit
While everything gets wrecked.
We’ll give her bandaids while
The wounds underneath fester,
The above two lines refer to the bandaid solutions that governments put into effect as a PR stunt rather than making long lasting changes. I was originally going to make a reference to "stop gaps," but I was worried that I wouldn't use the word in the right context. Plus "bandaids" seemed to fit with the tone of the speaker better.
Say that it just needs time,
That things will get better.
Even as her limbs wither
And our hearts start the shrivel,
The line above has two connotations. As the Earth dies (her limbs wither), we're also killing ourselves. But also, by ignoring the Earth's predicament in favour of our own wealth/convenience, we're killing our own souls ("our hearts start to shrivel").
We’ll ignore the symptoms
Saying that it’s naught but drivel.
And as we die with her they’ll rage
“She didn’t tell us, she didn’t say!”
They’ll get silence because
Momma we did slay.

Poetry influx

Beware. Poetry looms on the horizon.

"Mother Summer"

Hello summer, welcome back.
You’ve been gone awhile
Leaving us to winter’s cruel rack,
But now you’re here, bringing us your sunny smile.
Pick us up, brush us off, tell us it’s okay.
Place warming kisses on our brows,
Prepare us for the coming day.
To your season we will always espouse.
And in your loving glow we’ll laze,
Lounge by lakesides, play carefree.
Try to extend your stay, elongating these long days.
But if leave you must, despite our giant plea.
Promise that next year you’ll return.
Bringing again those warm days we forever yearn.



"Help"

“Help”



I died without knowing.

I woke to find myself six feet deep.
Walls stretching high on all sides,
Sky out of reach.
Choking, panicked,
I paced my grave.

People passed above.
Some slowed but ignored me.
Others wept and left flowers,
Lamenting my departure.
I feared to call out.
What if they did not respond? Did not turn?
It would confirm my death.

As I followed my path back and forth
I realized I was slightly deeper.
My grave wasn’t a grave at all,
But a rut built over time.

Could I escape? Was it impossible?
Each familiar step merely carried me on.
Five steps forward. Five back to the start.
Deeper and deeper I dug.

Tears did not help.
They turned the dirt to mud
Sucking me deeper.
Scrabbling at the walls brought more dirt down,
Drowning me further in darkness.

Rage against my death I did
But to no avail.
I sat, leaned against root-riddled wall
And watched the living pass me by.
I yearned to join them.
To walk in sunshine once more,
On new paths with new sights.

A single word, more whispered than said
Escaped my lips.

A passerby, one whom oft left flowers heard.
I feared they would continue to their way
But without delay they stopped and extended hand.

Half-afraid, half-hopeful I grasped it.
Working together we pulled and strained
Until, in a burst of light, I found myself resurrected.

I walk among the living again.
I keep one eye on the road ahead.
But the other, the other always remains on my grave.
It follows me, ready to pull me in.
But when I feel its inexorable pull,
I cry that little word
And a dozen hands dart out,
Stabilize me and help me find my path again.

Grade 10 English class

Starting in grade 10 English, we always had a section of the class dedicated to learning about poetry and analyzing the hidden meanings behind it. Often I thought that we put way too much thought into what the authors were trying to say (e.g. We soooo did not need to analyze every bloody word of "Seven Days" By Gary Dunford!), but sometimes it worked out and you got deeper meanings.

How come when I try to allude to things in my own writings, people either don't get it or misinterpret it entirely?

Example 1: "The Letter Opener": I wrote this short excerpt back in grade 12. We pulled random objects out of a hat and had to write a story about them. My object was a letter opener. So for some morbid reason I wrote this short story. However, most people who read it assumed the woman kills herself at the end. I never understood how people got that idea (okay, until now - I just reread the story and finally I get a glimmer of where it's coming from), but my original purpose was to indicate that she was going to kill her husband. I just felt that elongating the story to write his murder would detract from the overall feel.

Example 2: "The Taste of Falling Rain": I wrote this poem for a small online contest at writing.com. The purpose was to take a line they had given you and either incorporate it into the poem or use it the title. I chose the line, "The Taste of Falling Rain." Several people on writing.com reviewed the poem but no one seems to have realized the allusion that I was trying to make. The poem is supposed to be about someone dying. You know, everything was good, and then someone dies, so salty rain falls from sad clouds (I was trying to refer to the rain as being tears) on fresh-turned earth (an allusion to a grave). The end of the poem refers to the time of healing that occurs after any death - you know that the sorrow will eventually end.

Well epic fail on the allusion front for Mau. I guess I'm being a bit too obscure. It's just that when I write things more explicitly I feel like I'm clouting people over the head. Maybe like all good writers, I'll have to wait until I'm dead before people start analyzing my writing. ;)

Taste of Falling Rain

Until now the weather had been clear;
Days filled with blue skies and blue birds.

Nowadays rain squeezes from sad clouds
Falling salty on fresh-turned earth.

At last a glimpse of far-off light
Seen on the horizon, seen in the future
Promises an end to the storm.
Promises rainbows and sunshine
And blue birds once more.

Another poem (not by me)

One of my old friends from university (okay, we only had one class together ever and haven't seen/talked since) recently posted the first draft of a poem she wrote on her blog. I read it and was enthralled. So I've taken it upon myself to pimp it out. Without further ado, here's "The Violence of Fall" by Katherine S.

The Violence of Fall

It is reported that
The sheeplike trees,
Tended by the gentle warmth of May,
Watered along June’s fickle streams
Growing thick with fleece under the humid July
Greenhouse glass,
mirrored in high-flying August clouds,

Were murdered the night of September 8th.

Fleece felled,
Unsuspectingly assailed by volley upon volley
Of steel-forged drops,
Quietly pricked by the razor-breath of winter
Until jaundice spread through finger-veins,
And blood-bright vessels danced beneath the skin.
Battered and bruised by wind-whips,
Stripped to the bone.

And the distant sun,
When it peered above the hill,
Could barely find the remains of summer’s flocks
Among the feverish pools of mustard
And bloody torn leaves
That soaked the skeleton stems.