Play is the work of children and poets

Twice this week, I’ve been presented with short poems  centered on the  page, and twice this week I’ve had  to say that  I liked the poems.  But I had to wonder if I’d sing them that way…so I  jammed on one in a sort of Creeley style riff (which, depending on your email handler or browser you may not be able to see/hear properly):
 

                                  a tapeworm     living
                
                       in the middle     of
 
                                             my
                                             mind
                                         spits
                                         out         these
                                                      lines
                                            as
                                    it
                               
                                                     devours
                                           my life


        Good stuff.  Fun to jam with.  I liked the fact that you kicked off the restrictions and PLAYED.  There’s a reason why people who are making things happen  are called “players.”  Somebody said (I don’t recall who off the top of my head) that play is the work of children.  It’s also the work of artists.  Good stuff.
 
Best,
Stephen

From: motherofallpoetrygroups@yahoogroups.com [mailto:motherofallpoetrygroups@yahoogroups.com] On Behalf Of Zen
Sent: Thursday, November 10, 2005 8:12 AM
To: motherofallpoetrygroups@yahoogroups.com
Subject: Mother of All Poetry Groups Short Dozen: of moths & shrimp & afternoons
 
Hi, haven't posted here in awhile and decided to get active again.

I did a whole series of these what I might call segmented poems back in 2004 and am in the process of some edits on them.  I find the form fun to work with.  I took the zen poetry/haiku idea, kicked off the restrictions of an actual haiku, and strung them together as insight nuggets of a particular day or experience.

I was intrigued in my readings of Issa, Basho and others that by reading a series of their short poems, each individual poem was intensified.  I hoped this would happen with these.  I arbitrarily picked a dozen as the number used but it could be any number.

For me, these poems came out of the meditative spaces within the day.

Zen



Short Dozen: of moths & shrimp & afternoons


i.

It's as if I have
a tapeworm living
in the middle
of my mind

& it spits out
these lines
as it
devours my life


ii.

red petals
litter the ground
as if flowers
had blood


iii.

I spend hours
with my paintbrush

making love
to lilies & sunrise

to orange petals
& palm trees

mirrored
in blue


iv.

this richness
of the moment
engulfs me

as I gag
with wanting


v.

I know
how a moth feels
when it circles
a flame

every muscle taut
unable to resist
blood plunging

drenched
with light
with taste
with desire


vi.

there is too much here
in this moment
for stillness

too many feet dancing
& voices singing
too many warm breaths
& guitars melting the air

& I'm plucked
like a thread
in a spider's web
grabbing for the day


vii.

I have a picture
of you
in my head

subject to revision
of course

as my shutter
is only half open


viii.

when reading
your words
I hear your voice
run thru my ears

I become both
radio & receiver

I long to hear you
without the
interference of me


ix.

outer storms
shadow the day

throw down darkness
like a gauntlet

my soul stumbles
over embedded clouds
it has no name for



x.

dead litchis
lie on the plate

with their
soft flesh
promising life

in sugared syrup


xi.

how can you
promise me

it will be all right
when I can see
the blanket
you throw over
your own fears


xii.

I must be
the ruler
of shrimp
for all that
I've eaten

do they quote me
under the sea?



© Zen Oleary
revised November 2005




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