Archive for February, 2005

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Dirty Pipes or The First Plague (revised)

February 11, 2005

I turn the tap on my faucet and the
Water runs russet.
What turns the water red?
What sediment of ages past flows in my pipes and into my body
Turning what was a fountain of life into a repository of death?

Was this what the Egyptians saw with the coming of the first plague
Life-giving water turning to blood
Mother of rivers brought to her knees,
Raw, bitter, bringer of death
To her children?

What did the Egyptians do for water during those terrible days
Did they consume the red liquid
Taking into their own bodies the pestilence and disease
Or did they run parched and dirty
Through the streets of the great city?

Did they marvel at the Awesome Power that brought the first
Menstruation of their Mother
And what of the Jews
Beneficiaries of this first great tragedy,
How did they satisfy their thirst?

But back in my kitchen I look to much more mundane realities
I call the plumber and make an appointment
Ensuring that he Roto-Rooters my drains,
Snaking through my pipes
Removing any doubt about their cleanliness.

And I am free to wash away the blood that runs through my reality
Chalk it up to past experience,
Forget about the lesson I unwittingly learned
That behind every bringer of life
Lies the potential for death.


This is the 2nd try at a poem that I posted in its first form here. Today, I am heading over (at 12:00 noon) for the weekly MIT writers (students, faculty, staff) who offer critique to each other on their writing. Each week a different person brings something to share, and we offer our insights. A great group which meets in the Writing Center in Stata on Fridays during the year.

This version of the poem is slightly changed due to some feedback I have received from last week’s session (during which we began to consider the piece) and some feedback from the Critical Poets online forum (another great resource for poets) where I had the piece reviewed under the category of “Poems for Critique and Revision”.

If you want to add your two cents, please feel free. I will be posting my final(ish) version sometime next week.

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Run Dry

February 5, 2005

4/1985


There is a fear
that dwells within
and fills me
with a pain.


And when it comes
I feel alone
with no one
listening


And then I wonder
is it worth
the pain that comes
with writing?


For my fear is that
I will go unnoticed
and my poetry-pen
will run dry.




I’ve been feeling a little dry lately.  Too busy to spend much time on my poetry… and too lazy to make time for it.  Too many other demands, I guess. 


Thanks to those of you that have shared some of your stuff.  Keep it coming!


And I promise to try to put more stuff out here as well…