Since I would rather eat my own arm than talk about politics…

…particularly on my blog, and because the meme I was working on is way WAY too hard to finish up before bed, and because it is now terribly late…

Here is a link to a quite short story, a little weird or possibly creepy, but definitely interesting: Don Ysidro

Here is a poem by e. e. cummings. Did you know that he wrote some mostly normal ones?

it may not always be so;and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another’s,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not far away;
if on another’s face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be,i say if this should be–
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.

e.e. cummings

And… okay, want to read my poem? No stealing. It was for a prompt, to do a poem in cummings’ style, and I found, for me, the perfect subject, that worked so well with the style. It is a specific event (and if you can guess the song that was playing, you get extra points for sure). I don’t know how well it will line up in a not-courier font (oops, looks like not at all), but we’ll try just the same. It’s a draft.

end of adultonly church dance
couldn’t possibly be perfect
without kids running in collected
by over-etc parents,just can’t wait
to dimness on the wooden lacquered ground

discocolored ribbon lights
spinning turning
baby boy in mama’s arms
maypole for father, daughter

the whole alpha(bet) village sings
forever young
new song into old music, forever ancient

cuts through the usual numb ho-drum
to sweet thin bloody ache of Now & humming
with more-than-contentment, with
feet shuffle not to burst dancing, with
heart swelling, waves of best scent ever

happiness tasted now (too)
like justcanthelpyourself picking berries
(and there’s so many, why hold back?)
tastes like a snuggle & skipping toddler joy & new melody
daddygrin & moment

if you could hie to one eternal round
imprismed now/forever –
i like to take it out to see it sparkle
& every joyful word is not enough

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One response to “Since I would rather eat my own arm than talk about politics…

  1. cutting it close aren’t we gal pal? the song is either Forever Young or If You Could Hie To Kolob