Hmmmm, found poetry huh?
For today’s prompt we’ve got landscape coupled with found poetry and rounded out with enumeratio.
Figure of amplification in which a subject is divided into constituent parts or details, and may include a listing of causes, effects, problems, solutions, conditions, and consequences; the listing or detailing of the parts of something.
Lucky me. 🙂
I have to say, those of you who have wandered onto my little blog, I must say that I am not a poet. It isn’t what I am comfortable writing. I love writing fiction but non-fiction is what I supposedly what I got my degree in; specifically creative non-fiction and even more specifically, from this guy…you know the “god father of creative non-fiction.”
Anyway, poetry was never my thing and when I signed up for the writing 201 course I didn’t realize it was going to be about poetry. I suppose, if I had known, I wouldn’t have signed up. But I’m glad that I did, because even though I am still uncomfortable with it, I know that I can actually do it.
Okay, where was I?
Today’s poem….written first by hand and then scoured through some of the poems that I actually like or have stuck with me…it’s only fair to say that I haven’t really dipped my big toe in the landscape of poetry. The poems that stick with me are the more famous of those. It feels like a cop-out and I promise once this is over with (officially) I will try my damndest to read more poetry.
Now, before I begin, I want to let you know that I had grand plans. I printed out a half dozen poems – well known to not so well known (at least to me) and was composing the poem in my head when my carpal tunnel decided for me. It said, “uh, no, Charlie. You aren’t cutting up these poems to form your own. You aren’t even going to take a sharpie to them either. Oh, and writing the words that you didn’t black out? Ha ha haha.”
Carpal tunnel is a cruel, cruel bitch.
What’s a writer to do?
Get physical therapy, obviously.
And also, lay off the computer for a while.
Man, that’s hard.
But I am digressing. You are here for a poem and here I am just giving you excuses.
As always, thanks for sticking with me and this crazy experiment. Maybe in the future, I’ll scan and post what I was thinking.
(My sincerest apologies to Walt Whitman and his amazing poem, Pioneers! O Pioneers!)4
So full of action, full of
Fresh strong labor
Conquering, venturing, the unknown ways,
rivers, piercing the main
surveying soil upheaving,
From the peaks gigantic, the sierras, plateaus,
the mine, the gully, the hunting
Central inland from the continental blood
all the Southern, all the Northern,
the delicate starry, warlike, stern, impassive, mistress
back in compact ranks,
Through the battle, defeat, moving, stopping,
to droop and die the hour come?
the pulses of the world,
Falling in the Western beat,
silent lovers, the prisoners, the righteous, the wicked,
the joyous, the sorrowing, the living, the dying,
I with my soul and body,
a curious wandering
these shadows pressing
days, mystic nights
primal. the followers
heading the route
daughers, mothers, wives!
Never must you be divided, in our ranks you move united,
bards of other lands, you have done your work
soon you rise and tramp
for cushion and the slipper, the peaceful and the studious
the safe, the tame feast.
Corpulent have bolted
still the hard blanket on the ground
Was the road discourage nodding on our way?
I yield you
Well, it sounded better in my head.
Trust me, I hate it as much as you do and I happen to hate it greatly.