-A window ajar is a prelude in building to the joy of being limitless! That uneasiness of being familiar somehow, sometime, somewhere.......

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Apologies to Norah....

Another two minute poetry project till the microwave howls the shout.

Apologies to Norah

Wish just like a three year old
I could grab
a red and yellow crayon
and
make many many lines whorls ugly figures,
in a mad joy
and call them sun moon sky god;
But somewhere on the way
I lent the crayons:
one to Aristotle
another to social courtesy

now I wade through insomnia
trying to pluck painful fruits of words
from the tree
they call poetry…..

12 comments:

T said...

would that we all could be as free as we once, though we had no conception of it, were. a real shame how we are born with such possibility and then we grow. and growing is all concerned with the ways, tiny and grande, we repeatedly give that freedom away.

. : A : . said...

Profound!

boyracer said...

...and the tree knows everything...
(hang on in there)

Monica said...

...and in two-minute poetry projects we sometimes find the muse...

Pincushion said...

''I lent the crayons:
one to Aristotle
another to social courtesy''
Loved this..can't help but nod in agreement...

luz de la luna said...

Seems to me you didn't give all your crayons away :-)

Great poems and great site! I have been looking for a site with some poetry on it and so am glad to find yours. Like the whole blog. Very good. Thanks :) Check out my blog, if you like to :-), I post poetry on my blog too and also photography and short fiction.

Best Wishes
La Luna

Ubermensch said...

¡Fuego
what more can i add except a thanks, thanks:)

: A :
what isnt ?

hardcorearena ,
thank you; aptly said

Monica
more than muses sometimes ourseleves, thank you

Pincushion
thank you glad you liked it

luz de la luna
im still bargaining for the crayons :)
Seems to me you didn't give all your crayons away :-)

thanks for the visit and the kind words...im just giving shape to my tangents and odds.next stop ur blog:)

:..M..: said...

Loved: "painful fruits of words". I feel the same way about it. You spoke what I feel.

Sudarshan said...

I see a connection between your previous post and the above...very well said!

Ubermensch said...

:M:
thanks isnt that poetry?

sudharshan
glad u picked it up..

luz de la luna said...

This poem has been in my mind still. I think because it's something I really feel and think about.

If you ask a class of 5 year olds "how many of you are artists?" All will put up their hands.

If you ask a class of teens "how many of you are artists?" maybe half will put up their hands.

If you ask a class of adults "How many of you are artists?" You might be lucky if just one puts up their hands.

See the school yard children with smiles? See them kicking leaves and splashing in puddles? Where do the smiles go? Where does the art go? When do we stop learning to smile, to close our hearts, and where does the art go?

BTW, thanks for the visit to my site. Appreciated and for the comment. Glad you liked it so much. I very much like your blog. I will post a link to your blog soon on mine.

Take care and keep creating :-)

Best Wishes
La Luna

Ubermensch said...

thanks luna,
nice dozen of questions n story you have...answers are beyond the scope of a blog so:)))
thanks again.

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