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?

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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. I cannot tell you what you were thinking when you wrote it. I can only tell you when I read it I wanted to weep, my heart wanted to shatter into a few more pieces.

    I love you.
    Valentine Logar recently posted..Marriage Mudslides & MiraclesMy Profile

    Reply
  2. Alice in Wonderland and your late husband?
    Binky recently posted..Metaphorically SpeakingMy Profile

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    • I adore Alice. I have been in Wonderland and Underland often. Have to see today’s post to get the rest of the story.

      Reply
      • Well, I was close I guess.
        Binky recently posted..Metaphorically SpeakingMy Profile

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        • You were. I specifically left “bed” to connote whatever it needed to mean to the reader. For me, it was not a king-sized bed, but a crib. Either way, the feelings were evoke and the thinking cap found its way to the head. My work is done here.

          Reply
  3. From the last lines, I feel you missing Virginia, no rest for your pain and struggle in the poem. One nightmare gives you hope, and takes it away. After all of your efforts to escape the truth, you give up.

    I love you,
    Gail
    Gail Thornton recently posted..IntoxicatedMy Profile

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    • I love you, too. You should like some of what I revealed in today’s post. xxx

      Reply
  4. I feel stress, a roller-coaster ride. One moment everything is under control and the next, chaos. For a minute all is within your grasp then at once it shatters. You no sooner catch your breath when you realize you’re alone, haunted with old memories, emptiness.

    Poetry is not my forte but I am intrigued with it, sometimes more, other times, less. I like this one, whether I am close to understanding it or not but there is a definite anxiety (I think).
    Tess Kann recently posted..Flash in the Pan: Alive & EnergizedMy Profile

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    • I love your definite thinking. Yes, this one is a million layers. There is a full explanation on the next post. Thank you for reading this one, Tess. You have said it more than once. I am glad some of mine intrigue you. xxx

      Reply
  5. This reminds me of searching, seeking a way to return to a one-time life but recognizing–not admitting– one can never really go home. Life moves forward, not to the past. Difficult truths. It is not where one lives, or what has transpired, but how one feels about one’s self- and hopefully comes to inner peace. The tent is a rainbow–color is what you perceive at the moment.
    raymond alexander kukkee recently posted..King Henry and the BoxMy Profile

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    • Actually, the reference to zeitgeist is the acceptance. More on today’s post.

      Reply
  6. I am sorry but I am going to emphatically pitch my tent of another color–I shall let you choose any except red, blue, or yellow–and camp out there.

    I cannot find myself in any of the other tents. I read poetry and take away from it what I see. I may or may not drift in the direction the poet intended (as you well know friend) but always I am interested in the poets meaning, even if I do not get it, or feel it, or know it.

    I read your poetry and find what I may, then seek to know what you meant, but that does not change its meaning for me. It merely adds to my enjoyment to hear another’s take on the prose.

    So often I am tentative about sharing my thoughts on another poet’s metaphors and prose, but I’ve not felt that with you or your poetry.

    In this rare case, by the third verse, I think my thoughts were very close to yours. This was a dream of unresolved conflict–often a nightmare for me. I drift from one scenario into the next, seeking resolution, only to find myself trying to escape a new conflict.

    MJ
    MJ Logan recently posted..Dog SmartMy Profile

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    • Yours is really purple, albeit a very red-purple. I think one of the reasons you venture on mine is because I leave a blue layer on the outside. You and I both have the frying pan to the fire syndrome. The rest of my thoughts are on the next post. I may have a joint venture, you and I could embark. Hmm. Let me think on it a bit.

      Reply
  7. I suppose in theory I am of the Red tent although I think part of the skill of a poet comes thru conveying their feelings without saying exactly what they mean… as if its a puzzle or riddle yet the poet who can speak to all by saying something in a way the re ADer can form to tbeir own experience is powerful by haviing the ability to bring out emotion whether it was exactly the intended one in the words or not..i like both typss have no ide where i fall as a writer….

    I think this particular poem is abOut..Virginia. about being caught in a nightmare…that as nightmares often do..made no sense or had any reason but you know there is a way out.. just one and its Door is locked.

    I dont think the blue tent campers are …well in order to Know sometimes what the poem means or says .i would think some knowledge of the poet and their life would be necessary … whether my interpretation of this poem is right or wrong.. the emotion of..disbelief..loss .yearning ..childlike in its wonderment..and its sadness… whimsical but painful as the fairytale quality fell to nightmare .. Alice in wonderland meets I don’t know who to compare it to..

    Much love
    ♥ Lizzie
    Lizzie recently posted..Middle of the Night Mental Moment.My Profile

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    • I think the blue campers have room at the fire. Although much of what I write poetically is based on experience, this one has applications to many other scenarios as well. There is a whimsical quality about the Murphy’s Law in the poem. I could see the snicker at the crow line. The rest of my interpretation (and motivation) is on the next post. xxx I love you, too.

      Reply
  8. Bad dreams are not fun, but they often take us to where the pain resides.

    Sweet dreams my friend – may your pain be resolved soon… 🙁

    Love and hugs!

    Prenin.
    prenin recently posted..Thursday – Benefit cuts loom.My Profile

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    • Ah, but this was not merely about pain. In it there is hope the constant insistence of Murphy’s Law will abate. There is more on the next post.

      Reply
  9. Love your ‘interpretive’ description – fall into the words. There’s something I love about ‘falling’…

    Blackened Rainbow – love the title, and love the piece.

    What’s the photo though?!
    Noeleen recently posted..“We are so rich, we become poor inside.”My Profile

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    • It is a fire I built from our Christmas tree. When I sent the image of the fire to a friend, she texted back she immediately saw Mantra in the image. I had to look at it on the computer (and turn it the way she had received it) to see the fairy to the right side of the image.

      Reply
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