We saw the last of our brood off early this morning and have spent the day being busy with the humdrum things to cover up the silence. The drive is almost empty now.
Cars in the drive
Singing this evening was wonderful.
‘This Poem” is the first one in my new book and I offer it to you. The poet, Elma Mitchell is new to me. She died in December 2000 aged 81 and I shall be seeking out more of her writing.
This poem is dangerous: It should not be left
Within the reach of children, or even adults
Who might swallow it whole, with possibly
Undesirable side-effects. If you come across
An unattended, unidentified poem
In a public place, do not attempt to tackle it
Yourself. Send it (preferably, in a sealed container)
To the nearest centre of learning, where it will be rendered
Harmless, by experts. Even the simplest poem
May destroy your immunity to human emotions.
All poems must carry a Government warning. Words
Can seriously affect your heart.
I am sad that she felt that the nearest ‘centre of learning’ would ‘render it harmless’ but sometimes that is what the demands of a syllabus can do. I hope my pupils found a love of poetry with me, some of them at least!
calvin
January 5, 2016 at 2:49 pm
The Drive full. Still. Tears gather early on the pane of eminent departure. A poetic picture you have photographed. Though probably not one you’d care to frame, to be placed on the mantel. Though if it were in reverse, and the sun was shinning, and the droplets became tears of joy, as the drive filled with their arrival. A different picture. A different frame -a better mind set. I’ll bet the singing helped to dry up the window pane. The brightest sunshine is not always solar powered is it?
That little poem, in my opinion, one mighty big can of worms. And if I can add to your thoughts on this poem of seemingly exacting standards. To quote you, “demands of a syllabus” vs creative expression. I think she is being defiant. ‘Here’s the line, now I want to see you cross it, break boundaries, knock down walls’, We were born. We live. We are taught. We communicate. For the most part, if not entirely in a linear fashion. The conundrum of living linear in a not so linear world, that is kinda where creativity bumps heads…..thank you for sharing this poem, it was a sunshine filled moment, with body and a good head on it’s shoulder. And like all good poetry, open to interpretation -a good ear as well as strong voice.
mybeautfulthings
January 8, 2016 at 10:16 am
I love your thoughtful comments. I used to teach about pathetic fallacy and didn’t see it in my own post but you did. Tears coursing down the window – and everyone know I will weep when I say goodbye! The ‘kids’ knew their present was a success when I wept with joy. You are totally right too that singing cleared away all sadness and put a lift back into my stride.
Love your thoughts on the poem too. I can see her defiance as I read again and it pleases me. Thank you again for your always thought provoking comments. 🙂
calvin
January 8, 2016 at 4:31 pm
On pathetic fallacy………If one stares at anything long enough one is bound to see in some form or fashion tidbits of Wuthering Heights tucked in the underwear. As often is the case, it’s there naturally, without forethought like wind and rain – aye, a beautiful thing. As for my comments; what dog doesn’t like a good bone to chew on. I guess I had one too many teachers way way way back then who said, ” look here young duff, one word comebacks don’t cut the mustard, say what your thinking’. And to, good teaching, no wait, let me change that to good communicating is quid pro quo. Oui?
Hilary Bryant
January 5, 2016 at 1:14 pm
Love the poem – hadn’t heard of her but look forward to finding out more! Thank you.