I would be posting pictures of my garden if it weren't so late and I could find my cable-wire-thing so I could upload or is it download my photos. Instead, I am falling back on my recent poetry adventures in my weekly Big Yellow writing group.
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Here I am waxing about love again. I'm coming to the conclusion that my brain is softwired straight to Cole Porter and Irving Berlin and every love song ever written. And why not, I ask? Even my garden spurs me on.
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If a heart can break in two.
Can it break in fours
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And eights
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And sixteens and thirty twos?
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And if it can break in that many pieces
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All small enough to fit in the fold of my hand
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Can I shake those pieces up,
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Shake them in a martini tumbler
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Or hand them to the crappier at Foxwoods
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Ask him to toss them long and hard;
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Watch them tumble all over the surface that is me
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Spilling all that unused love all over the surface that is me
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Like warm raindrops in the August sun.
Sweet KJ :) A "crappier" doesn't sound so sweet - what do they usually do? Never heard of the word before...
ReplyDeleteThere are a lot of divisions and fractions here. Love multiplies not divides and while it is tangible it is fluid. Whoever broke your heart is a piece of crap! (Ooops. Body fluids). Are you in a crappy mood?
ReplyDeleteActually, I love your poem. I can see how a heart could crumble...
I touched a human heart once before, to massage it and try to save the life of a 24 year-old. When everything was over, and before we could close her chest. I looked at the tiny organ that fit in my hand, the source of great poetry and channel of all emotions. The heart is more apt to squeeze that the brain.
anon, ooops, perhaps i am making up words again! i THINK a "crappier" is the person who performs this:
ReplyDeletecraps: a game in which two dice are thrown and in which a first throw of 7 or 11 wins, a first throw of 2, 3, or 12 loses, and a first throw of 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, or 10 can be won only by throwing the same number again before throwing a 7.
ces, the fact that you love this poem is reason for the cartwheel i just did around stella! and you KNOW i would never use that four letter word as in "piece of" due to its association with bodily fluids! imagine our large expansive full hearts fit in our hands. i like the thought of that.
:)
okay: i made up my own word. leave it to ces to discover the word is "croupler", not "crappier".
ReplyDeletefortunately, writers take privileges freely and audaciously.
:)
Well, if one's heart breaks, that is crap and even crappier if it breaks in pieces. Just admit it that you wanted to use body fluids in a poem.
ReplyDeleteno! i admit nothing!
ReplyDelete:)
Oh crap. I will make you admit.
ReplyDeleteCrap, Crappier, Crappiest.
ReplyDeleteI'm the CRAPPIEST!
ReplyDeletekj clears her throat and looks upward for guidance.....
ReplyDeleteKJ, what's up there? Crap! I don't see anything! I am just excited you're back. Besides you said you were bored with our civil exchanges over at Anon's.
ReplyDeleteAh, you know your classics
ReplyDelete