I call out to you in the dead of night.
Dawn seems so far away.
Enlightenment is shrouded in shadow.
A moment of solitary despair.
A moonbeam of ecstasy
and words appear.
The hoot and screech of owls pivot the changing light.
Even a poet feels the weight of sleep heavy on her eyes, when it was poetry that roused her from her bed.
To rejoice as a poet, you must learn to mourn with bluebells and violets, roost with rooks and crows in tall trees, where a nightingale might sing yet.
Kim M. Russell, 16th April 2019
My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Tuesday Platform Poems in April Day 16: You are a Poet!
Anmol is our host this Tuesday. He encourages us to celebrate the poetics of Lawrence Ferlinghetti, who recently turned 100. He has shared Ferlinghetti’s poem ‘Poetry as Insurgent Art (I am signalling you through the flames)’ and, as Day 16’s challenge, asks us to write a poem entitled ‘Poetry as…’, perhaps in the style of Ferlinghetti.
This is absolutely gorgeous in its word choices and imagery, Kim! ❤️ I love and whole-heartedly agree with; “To rejoice as a poet, you must learn to mourn with bluebells and violets..” 🙂
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🙂
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LOL, this was me on too many nights! Thank goodness for poetry notebooks by the nightstand (in the bedroom, in the kitchen, in a purse, etc). You have to write while that feeling is burning and it’s hard to reconstruct a fire from embers that went dim just to catch a couple hours more sleep.
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I need a special waterproof notebook and pen for in the shower – poems often hatch when I’m in the middle of one!
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Even a poet feels the weight of sleep heavy on her eyes, when it was poetry that roused her from her bed…. love the contradiction – the separation of poet and poetry!
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Ah, I so admire your take on poets and their poetry — the image is solemn and deeply evocative with the “cry in the dark” so well utilized. I also loved this bit: “Even a poet feels the weight of sleep heavy on her eyes, when it was poetry that roused her from her bed.”
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Thank you, Anmol.
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I resonate with this poem.
I demand to know how this poem managed to look into my brain!
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🤐
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Kim- what beautiful thoughts here. I love- ‘enlightenment is shrouded in shadow.’ Sometimes, the search for the perfect words are exactly like that.
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😊
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I love this, Kim. It lifts itself off the page, with the presence of the birds and that nightingale that might yet sing. In fact, I think she did sing, in this poem.
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You’ve made me smile, Sherry. Thank you!
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Excellent poem. Those last two lines – oh my!
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Thank you, Toni!
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Yummy….this is a great take on the why’s we seem to always ask ourselves. You paint a true vision of what is like to be an observer of the condition of being alive and in tune with the moment. Loved this.
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Thank you so much, Corey!
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I love this, particularly the last lines 🙂
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Thank you, Ellecee! 🙂
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Poetry is certainly about owls and rooks and crows, and so much more!
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Thank you for reading and commenting, Yvonne!
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Oh, I love this, especially the ending.
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Thanks so much, Susie.
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Beautiful!
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Thank you, Rosemary!
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The best poems are the ones you are compelled to write in the middle of the night.
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But there has to be that light in the end… there has to be that hope of a nightingale in the end.
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😊
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Nicely put
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Thanks Suzanne.
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