December 23, 2012
Not feeling well... Too many years... too many cigarettes. But I survive. Don't we all. I never thought of myself as a "nature" poet. Thought it was too 19th century. A lot of contemporary poets try writing about the flowers, the rain, blah, blah blah... and it always sounds somewhat... fake. But lately the weather has been relevant to my life. About the only thing I experience anymore. I don't have friends, really. Not much interaction with people... so, I have a lot of time to think about the weather, watch it, let it affect me. Here's a "sort of" nature poem which I'm hoping is contemporary and doesn't read too cliched. It was inspired by Hurricane Sandy and, of course, that one girlfriend I've never gotten over.
Weather
Depression
I was
thinking about the weather
and noticed a
depression mustering
around the
polar regions of my heart.
Yes, you were
there again uprooting
the trees
then flinging them against
the
neighbor's new truck. He was
shocked
to see the devastation
but was more
worried about me
standing
there barefooted in
a puddle of
bloody, muddy water.
“Are you all
right?” He asked as
he surveyed the damage you had caused.
“I thinks so...” I had a difficult time
he surveyed the damage you had caused.
“I thinks so...” I had a difficult time
looking him
in the eye. I’m sure
he never expected that a girl
he never expected that a girl
your size
could reek such havoc.
Over the years I've learned to accept
the inclement
weather that
accompanies
your presence.
The thought
of you raining
down on my
shelter-less dreams
as just a
given like snow in the winter,
dead leaves
in autumn, the fall.
I've learned to accept the chance
that you will
return and blast
the world
away with the same
suddenness
you left with. They
should name a
hurricane after you.
rrw 1o-24-12
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