Thursday, April 30, 2009

Over Futile Odds and Laughed At By the Gods

I took a bunch of photos on my way to work this morning. It had just rained so everything was still dripping.

Tonight I think I'm gonna write a poem. Don't worry, I may never write another. As I've said before, I don't really understand poetry, (which I'm sure I won't have to tell you after you read this) but I was walking home from work and sick the other day and overwhelmed by Spring and it just came to me. It's all very tongue-in-cheek. The idea cracked me up and so you all have to be exposed to it too...Or not. Ready? No? Yeah, I'm not really sure I am either. I think I'm going to call it:

Iowa Seasons Can Just Blow Me

Damn it!
You've suddenly come a-courtin' again
Looking all sweet and calling out to me
Everywhere

Wasn't it just a couple of months ago
When you were so cold and unfeeling?
Slapping me in the face with your ice pellets and frozen winds?
No matter how much I complained
(And you know I did) You were
unrelenting

But now you're overwhelming me with flowers
I can feel the difference in your touch on my skin
And your smell
Your smell drives me crazy
All dirty and warm and loamy
Distracting me and making me
Feel like maybe I can start turning my porch light on again.
(Although my friends like to remind me that there is a huge difference
Between turning my porch light on and getting drunk and
Accidentally leaving my back door
Unlocked)*


At first you make me hopeful
I'm reminded of how sweet you can be
And I start shedding layers
Exposing myself

But then I start to feel it
Something happens to piss you off
And you're suddenly on a tear
You thunder, you rage and you throw things around
You are a destroyer

Then when you calm down
You make up for it
You didn't mean it, you just care about me so much
It makes you do things you're not always proud of
You will try harder
You say and you show me your blindingly white smile
I do know better
We've done all of this many times before
I'm sure it's just a matter of time until you stifle me with your
Hot fetid breath constantly on my neck
And later, when you suddenly turn cold again

Yet I stay every year
Waiting for that first show of sweetness and
Warmth

*I got the "porch light and backdoor" imagery from my friend Sara, who got it from another friend of hers. So, I'm not sure who gets the attribution, I just know it isn't me.

11 comments:

Remiman said...

Churlita,
Poetry is what you write when your heart is summoned to express itself. Today with those words; you are a poet.
Pure emotion.
rel

Ananda girl said...

I love it.

NoRegrets said...

Oh how wonderful.

Mnmom said...

How perfect and wonderful!
I hadn't seen the abusive relationship we have with our midwestern weather but you are absolutely right! And we just stay and take it, and take it, and take it.

Susan said...

I love it too!!!

mighty jo said...

i don't understand poetry either. i once questioned a creative writing professor who was preparing to teach us the "rules" of poetry by asking, "i thought poetry didn't have any rules." he agreed & the lesson ended. so there!
but like the vandykes say, "i don't know art, but i know what i like!" awesome poem...truly dazzling.

booda baby said...

Just back from a long week of conferencing and computer geeks, I almost forgot people can do creative things. You might not understand poetry, but you write it very well. I like your conversational rhythms and truly easy to access imagery. It transported me and isn't that what counts?

laura b. said...

You understand poetry.

.j.william. said...

you're so right. the relationship is like Ike & Tina Turner.

The Lady Who Doesn't Lunch: said...

That is really beautiful and you managed to use loamy and blow me with such grace. And the flowers are purty.

Chance said...

Gosh, someone's mad at Nature. And a series of bad dates.