Note: If you'd like to see this as a poem, go to The Ink Pot. I'd appreciate hearing from you about which you like better... thanks.
A tattered white windsock hangs in the branches of a barren tree beside our picnic table, its green and orange tentacles suspended by thin branchlets that form a trapping web, the last fading remnants of a bygone time, crepe arms spread at unnatural, grotesque angles. Upon first glance, with only a bit of reflection, I imagine an octopus grabbing onto narrow wisps of coral, stubbornly defying the current and all nature’s relentless attempts to pull it into deeper waters.
Perhaps that octopus/windsock and I are brothers, each seeking refuge from the current—or maybe we merely exist as passersby in a previously charted course of neither design nor consequence. These days, it is difficult to discern.
Honestly, it no longer matters. For whatever reasons, we are here… and, at least for the time being, this is enough.
14 comments:
"and, at least for the time being, this is enough."
Is it?
Yeah, we're all "in the wind" - what did you have last night, calamari?
Don't give into the current, Bob. Throw another tenacle over the reef.
All I can say is that when you are not here your presence is truly missed. :)
and you said you didn't write poetry... BS... i emailed ya.....
Where is Bob and what have you done with him? There's some mellow guy writing in his blog...
Karen-- I think it has to be, actually.
Harry-- Not calamari, maybe a little calamareality, perhaps.
Dan-- glub... glub... gl--
Shirley-- Thanks, kid... gosh, with sentiments like that, maybe I should disappear a little more often!
Paisley (if indeed that's really your name)-- Got your e-mail and I must agree that there would seem to be some merit in what you say. I think I'll put it up in that form and see what others think. Thanks very much...
Jo-- Hey, everyone has a weak moment from time to time. I'm reasonably sure that with another night's sleep, I'll be just as obnoxious as ever... and thanks for pointing it out to someone who may be here for the first time. *snort*
Thanks, everyone!!
I like that.
And I like how you took a simple, every day sight and gave it deeper meaning and relation. A windsock. A mutated octopus. A lifetime.
It takes some skill to connect those dots.
Found you on the ink pot. Your poem looked and sounded terrific there.
But whether the lines are phrased or not, your words read as a poem.
Have you been to read.write.poem? It's a relatively new poetry community I work with. Come check it out! You're a fine writer.
I read this at The Ink Pot. It read wonderfully. I feel as a poem your words carried a lot more weight. Too easy to breeze over them in this format. You are a poet at heart, aren't you?
Read.write.poem is the place to be, as well as Totally Optional Prompts and Writer's Island. They are the poet's home and help us write and read regularly, which every poet should do.
This is really good no matter what form it's in. The words you used to describe the emotion were perfect. As I was reading them I saw the sock trying to grab something...and then imagined how life could be described as a "tidal pull"...real nice. Just hold on tight!
Thanks, everyone. I appreciate your thoughts on the piece, and I'll try to do some more. Honestly, it's an outgrowth of a freewrite, as many of my longer stories are, as well. I was 'in the moment' and it wrote itself. I honestly never considered writing it as poetry, although I'm very flattered that some of you consider it as such. I don't think of myself as anything more than a dabbler, as a poet, honestly.
Food for thought... thank you all.
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