Auntie's Anti-Poems

An old one from 2007, probably written long before that:

Thirteen Ways Of Looking At Wallace Stevens

I
Five bucks says
you don't get him
the first time.

II
There was a jockey
with the same last name.
Every time I bet on him
he lost, and every time
I bet against him,
he won.

III
You know, there are several
different kinds of blackbirds.
One species has a broad red
racing stripe on each wing.
The others don't.

IV
I really dread doing it,
but I guess I'd better
start looking into getting
some kind of insurance.

V
What’s the big deal with
the glass of water and that jar
in Tennessee? I thought
down south they were
big on bourbon.

VI
Things as they are
are never quite as good
as we want ‘em to be
and never quite as bad
as we think.

VII
You don't see many women
wearing peignoirs these days.
Then again, you can find
a load of complacency
in a pair of sweatpants.

VIII
What kind of ice-cream
would you order if you were
an emperor?

IX
On MTV tonite:
The Man With The
Blue Guitar
(Unplugged.)

X
Why can't I be
the comedian?
Oh, please let me.
Pick me.
Clip me.

XI
I can, oh I can,
I can quote the man:
“It is possible, possible,
possible.”

XII
Oh, hell, he’s just
so good. Let me quote him
again: “we keep coming back
and coming back
to the real.”

XIII
I'd say more,
but it’s Sunday
and time for
my bath.

Oh, and by the way–
you owe me five bucks.

An Auntie, An Attorney and A Blackbird are now ONE!!!!

Though to think of it, Auntie, there would be countless ways of looking at your amazing personality!

Kudos for this fantastic offering. Spanking good, really! A blackbird must have possessed your soul (just as it did Wallace's then) as you started to conspire to bring this one about!

March 14

In Memory of My Sister
(March 14, 1953-November 17, 2010)

It used to be auspicious, this day
before the Ides. It was all about
you, turning trouble into triumph
with those sardonic quips of yours,
that quick laugh, sincerely and freely born
from some place way down deep. Love landed
on you unsummoned, like a bird
gently settling on your shoulder. Life
hit you hard, so you smacked it straight and strong,
like wind gusting through leafless branches.

Remember how the pussy willows
once charmed you so? They’re already here,
and just the other day I saw four
fat robins hopping on the yellow grass.

But my heart still thinks it’s winter.
The room is dark when I’m nudged awake
by unsettling thoughts of those who have gone:
the people I liked and the ones I loved,
those whom you knew and those you didn’t.

Just like the blanket I grasp for warmth,
there’s comfort in the platitudes
we secretly hope, deep down, are true:
that there exists a place where you still
live, with no struggle nor snagging strings,
but where soft and bright mornings come attached
to a brand-new birthday without end,
where you in joy and glory thrive
among all of those whom you love,
the ones I know and the ones I don’t.

"Treacly," my Aunt Fanny! Although, to switch metaphors, I did experience a bit of whiplash in response to the images in the last line of the first stanza: the wind gusting through leafless branches seemed so discordant with all the lively, vital images that had preceded it, and when did it suddenly turn autumn or winter?

But the last line of all is one that one can and wants to dwell on: on the surface it's regret for not having had the opportnunity to know more of your sister's life, but there's also a hint of reproach in it, that you didn't have the opportunity to express all your love for her, just as you didn't get to know all whom she loved and you might have come to love.

I liked the last line acknowledging that there is something you did not know about your sister.

What a beautiful tribute to your sister, Dear Auntie.
We need hope. Perhaps what is in our minds creates our REAL afterlife experience just like it does while we're over here...

I loved this poem the first time I saw it Auntie, and time has not diminished its impact.

Live and be well - H

There is a great warmth to this. You would not want to get this wrong and you didnt. You are in reminiscent mood at the moment it seems. Pussy willows and fat robins. Beautiful.

What a lovely poem for your sister. The warmth and comfort of the blanket and the attachment to memories make this especially sweet Auntie but as Prince says the final lines in the last stanza beautifully wrap up the tranquil lines already penned.

Auntie, your description of your sister comes alive in the first stanza, you remember her as though it was yesterday. The sincerity and grief you feel is so touching:

But my heart still thinks it’s winter.
The room is dark when I’m nudged awake
by unsettling thoughts of those who have gone:
the people I liked and the ones I loved,
those whom you knew and those you didn’t.

My deepest sympathy for your loss, I feel privileged that you shared this with us.

A belated thanks to my fellow LitNutters re #381, # 386, #391, and #393. Oh, and Happy First Day of Spring tomorrah.

Turtle

Hail, fellow agoraphobe,
my soul-mate of the marsh.
If dangers hover, duck and cover
‘gainst creatures cruel and harsh.

Surviving with a shell game to snatch
stray marks of fly or flea,
ambivalently napping, seldom snapping.
Slow-moving? Deliberately.

Versatile reptile with mobile digs,
at home wherever you kneel.
Cursed be the scoop that plunges you in soup
as prelude to some mocking meal.

Voiceless, unlike the mourning birds
biblically cooing the waning of the flood.
Let those namesakes fly, I only speak of thy
Benediction of the mud.

1998

Dear Auntie, turtles are my beloved creatures! they symbolize eternity too and ah! how terrible some would heedlessly throw them into boiling water to make a soup...
Here too it's the beginning of spring, turtles show up everywhere, so many will perish on the roads...

Have plenty of green in your eyes and flowers' scent in your nostrils, be well and thank you so much for this poem.

Enjoyed this very much Auntie. I pretended I didn't see the turtle soup :D. The dark humor is weaved in quite, um, deliciously. Oh I can't believe I said it!

I have small orange turtles here but the one that made an impression was on the beach on Hilton Head Island. The poor thing was probably dead. It was huge, flipped over like a Hummer.

Nothing posted in this thread since March! My, how time flies when you ain't havin' fun!

The following is the first piece of personal "poetry" I've written since the 30/30 thread. It was originally intended for the "Favorite Places" poetry contest, but for reasons beyond my control, I missed the deadline, even though I'd finished writing it in time. Two weeks ago today, I sat down to type and post it, only to find that Pong 2.0 would not power up for me. Just like a defiant child, it wouldn't put its boots on! Not even after I threatened it with jumper cables. Back to its natural parents it went. Another device has temporarily stepped in, again borrowed but this time from a different relative. He, like the generous person who lent me the first one, doesn't know what he's in for. Oh, I kid, I kid! (Mostly.)


Preferences

In October’s midst to stand
on the arch of a rustic bridge,
cresting above a slow-moving stream,
beneath some birches’ yellow flags
surrendering to the lazuli on high;

OR –-

just past the crepuscular moment
when a wide window reflects
the moon upon that creek’s clean glaze –-
in an accommodating chair
fronting a carefree fire –-
enhanced by a book, a useful light,
and – - perhaps – - a sleeping setter
reclined on a braided rug;

OR –-

when a verdant burst wakes up the world,
the chance to plant one’s feet on the spongy earth
beside that now-exuberant brook --
unvexed by buzzing pests, though curious creatures
might come around, uncoaxed, to sniff
the new radii of mellow mallows
and the amiable points of anemones;

BUT – -

while pledging summer riches to prior claims,
fate has failed to shine her favor here,
assigning instead the option of default,
proving, after all, the optimal choice:
any time and any place with you.

I'm going to have to look up crepuscular. That was like a thesaurus of the first moment Auntie which just got better and better until rounded off with the final stanza and (penultimate line?) which is a spectacular reminder in all of nature's beauty. You've made my morning before I even open the blinds!