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Colorful Zoological Detour

Today’s scheduled post has been preempted in favor of the myriad animals which carried off, trampled and/or ate what may have been planned.

Mantra fireThere seems to be some debate about good poetry. There are a number of camps, and it is possible to pitch a tent in more than one without being branded a traitor.

Universal

The Blue Tents stand by the tenet good poetry is a poem, regardless of form, which speaks the same truth to all readers. Regardless of background or poetic history, Blues think the metaphors should be solid enough to leave little or no wiggle room for the reader to stray from the poet’s own thoughts.

Interpretive

The Red Tents are more passionate. They think the poet should leave ample room for the reader to fall into the words and be carried by personal history to commune on an empathetic or sympathetic plane with the poet. Reds are likely to grant you a philosophical debate as to your findings after a reading.

Whodasaydawhatty?

The Yellow Tents believe there should be guideposts along the poetic path, but prefer to meander between the poppies or the octopi to get to where the poet leads. Bordering on existentialism, the Yellows would like to philosophically not care whether you get where they do.

Poet

Regardless of which color tent the poet pitches, all three camps are likely to read the poem and either hit it dead on or swim blithely upriver away from the poet’s lagoon.

Red

Over the course of the last two books, you have discovered I can write to please all three types of campers. Today is red. I want to know what you take away.

Please enjoy.

Blackened Rainbow

I am sliding down the rabbit hole on the back of an anaconda.
Truly, I only am there because she turned her belly away when
She wrapped around my chest.
My earring catches on a passing root, and I grab on for dear life.
She must be starved to let me slip from her coils
In favor of a garden pest.

Broken nails, muddy shoes, I claw my way back to the sunlit surface,
Into a thunderous, stampeding herd of wild-eyed,
Crazed wildebeest.
What happened to the calm countryside, where my buffalo roam?
Horseflies buzzing the ears of a spotted coonhound
On the porch to rest?

I climb a tree, only green on one side, to see what I can see.
Lean out to focus on what can’t be a seaside beach.
Surely, it’s a test.
One I may not pass, since the branch broke and now I am in a bed…
Of angry, red fire ants setting me ablaze.
I head for the foamy crest.

Wading out ‘til I’m up past my gills, I think I found some peace.
But a man o’ war grabs my ankle, giving it
His gutless best.
Now, all I need is a flock of crows to make the day complete.
When I trip on a driftwood stump, I give up.
Just let me rest.

Deep breaths, in and out, I open my eyes to gentle snoring.
It was nothing more than a nightmare.
Subconscious zeitgeist.
Preparing me to face the empty bed where you should be dreaming.
Would the nightmares cease and desist, if I could just
Hold you to my breast?

240320132130


What color is your tent? What did you get out of this one? Any idea what I was thinking when I wrote this poem?

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24 Comments

  1. A nightmare indeed, I hope the next time that you sleep there will be peace amid the twists and turns that are your innermost thoughts.

    Have a lovely Easter weekend Red 🙂 🙂 xxxx

    Reply
    • I believe someone would need to call a truce for my sleep to be peaceful 😉 Great to see you today. (The rest of the story is on the next post.

      Reply
  2. As is my wont, when a little bit of catchup is in order, I may read your posts out of order. That is what happened here. And it was perfect for me to see the symbols and metaphors sort of fleshed out first. When I first saw the title to this post, it felt like something that would not interest me. If I’d read it first perhaps that could be so, but, now not. Maybe that’s why I sensed the hope, because of your post post thoughts being read first… all in all, I never did like camping, but poetry has always called me to go deep. I’m really taken by the animal metaphoric symbolic stories. And that was what made me think I’d not be interested, at first, when I saw this post, before I’d read the next.
    I know I sort of rambled there, I hope you can feel my point reaching out from somewhere in here…
    I love the poem and the post!
    love and hugs…

    🙂
    BuddhaKat recently posted..Alphabet Soup for F.R.A.C.T.A.L.S.My Profile

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