a tisket a tasket and not a green and yellow basket…

the first bird

someone asked if i needed to be blue to write, and i said i don’t need to be a color to bend like a rainbow. i said, kiss me i am a king. i said, speak to me i am a dignitary. i said, sit at my table and drink.

snails set sail in paper boats down the stream of my childhood; daisies fall like feathers in my day dream; i am warm in someone’s arms, shiny in someone’s pocket. i remember something i heard that was beautiful.

(in a box delivered to an old man, (in a room, down a hall,) are the words spoken by his grandmother; a lock of his father’s hair; some mercies handcrafted by angels who wanted him to smile.)

sitting in a chair lazy with afternoon i sleep like a darwinian iguana; i say blue, blue, tsk, tsk – i am an amateur changing the world. i say wake up god and pretend you can prevent sad poetry.






Image used with permission: Steven Kenny


10 responses to “a tisket a tasket and not a green and yellow basket…

  1. Is not demanding god to prevent sad poetry a contradiction in terms or, worse, a potential redaction of your own work? Tis, perhaps, a consummation devoutly to be wished, but without it, wouldn’t we risk riding our yin into a yangless world?

  2. Bob – Don’t you think it’s more of a challenge than a demand…

    To me there are at least 3 ways to read this last line…

    1. (someone) wake up God – ring an alarm bell or something…and pretend you can prevent sad poetry…

    2, (someone) wake up God – ring an alarm bell or something…and pretend God can prevent sad poetry…

    3. i am an amateur changing the world (dealing with “blue”) – don’t like the way I am changing the world, than wake up god and pretend you or God can prevent sad poetry.

    I have no wish to be without my sad (blue) or without my (red) heart…in fact it can’t be done…hence the challenge poked with a bit of tongue in cheek…

    Thanks for your comments Bob…and Be Well

  3. i really like your words

  4. amuirin – why thank you kindly…

  5. In my belief, ‘blue’ poetry is but the complement of the warm; there can be no happiness if there is no sorrow. How could we be able to recognise pleasure if there was no pain for it to be compared?

    That last line was a nice touch. Rather tongue-in-cheeky. [if you’ll forgive the pun]

    Now, I notice a detail in form, there are no capital letters; what am I missing?

  6. Mr. Queasy – Thank You for your comments and I agree…as for the lower case – I am not sure why I do that from time to time…its somehow simpler and plainer…

  7. It is as if you opened the mirrors of your mind for me to see. I enjoyed my walk.

  8. krkbaker – Thanks…stare and stair step and continue walking…it is so nice to look at ourselves and others…I can think of no better thing then reflectivity…

  9. I read it the first way. And the second stanza is just wuvverly, Poetman, a real delight.

  10. What I found in your “god” ending was a splendid twist from the darwinian iquana (eyes blinking at existence)…and in that warmth, that half-sleep, you laugh to yourself, reflecting upon the “blue” question someone asked of you, and in this you found yourself thinking of the joy that even thinking of writing can bring to you, and your muse sends your minds-eye skyward and you dare “god” to prevent the thing that comes so easy to you…

    I may have really missed the mark with your actual intent, but so goes the beauty of such fine metaphorical writing.

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