Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Pulsing Poems

Writing on the porch, at rest after gardening,
pencil poised on a note to myself to listen
again to Larkin’s poem, perhaps “Solitude”- I forget.

A hummingbird flew into the cloud of catmint blooms,
sipping quick, on a manic quest to quench some thirst,
in the high noon sun.

On to the bleeding hearts, precisely piercing each
drooping pendulum with its needle nose,
nervously draining drops of life blood – humming.

I’m reading Stephen Dobyns on traditional meter vs free verse;
I wonder where the hummingbird fits as it flits freely
in its’ rhythmic pursuit of bleeding hearts – a fleeting poem.

The tiny iridescent blur bleeds nectar from the base of
pink hearts, slit, perfectly metered for the free flow of
sweetness to the pulsing poems on wings.

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4 comments:

  1. Your poems often remind me of needlework, Ann. The same attention to detail, blending and right use of colors and stitches, and the same effect of small individual elements building a complete and harmonious picture. Your image of the hummingbird is a tapestry.

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  2. This is lovely, Ann. And I just started coming across references to Philip Larkin's poems. So this is a double blessing - a good poema nd a good reference.

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  3. Oh those last two lines cap off an intriguing poem beautifully!

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  4. What an intricate gorgeous set of words to illustrate the form of poetry - free within the limits of a hummingbird - flying, hovering, free yet within its freedom conformed to its own nature and needs. Excellent and beautiful. Gay

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