Pamela A. Lamppa
Pamela A. Lamppa
Apr 13, 2011

October Blues

The sky is October blue

that vibrant wild-ache kind of blue
that moves crumbled leaves beneath cold air

the kind where sun struggles to steam earth
and I feel my heart breathe like spring's birth
with the kind of breath that makes leaves shake;
makes the last glow of sun tremble before it sets

where the pavement's wet
and the streetlight flickers
with its fake orange light

and I wonder why I continue--

continue to fight

settling for more than I think I need
and needing less than the mess left
in the progression of my life
where I didn't find my dream

in middle-class America.

I still think if I just work harder,
work longer, save money, pay my bills
find that median behind rolling hills
so I can start taking snapshots of red maples

then maybe ...

But I can't afford to develop the film
because the camera I use isn't digital

like the finger I want to raise
when my bills include a fuel surcharge
because the cost of oil is too high.

And I ask her to put on another sweater
tell her she'll be just fine
while my guilt asks why
and says I should give her more --

but there isn't any more to get more with.

We've gone beyond the warm summertime.
The days are getting colder
and she chimes,

Mom, it's cold in here.

I laugh,
tell her when the temperature is this cool,
she doesn't even wear a jacket to school,

and I tell her to put on another sweater
she'll be just fine

and I wonder how --

how it all got to be so hard.

Though I do it alone,
I know I can't do it alone

so

I take the offered bone

even though pride pretends
my muscles should be stronger
and that my back should carry more

that my road won't be much longer,

but I hadn't counted on age to find its way into my joints
fossilizing points with grindstone play

and time moves away
from that orange electric streetlight
whose glow mimics the sun

bright

while dark winter days lie dormant
against the backdrop of another blue

October sky.

About This Poem

Last Few Words: Spoken-Word - Performance Poetry Performance poetry is poetry that is specifically composed for or during performance before an audience. During the 1980s, the term came into popular usage to describe poetry written or composed for performance rather than print distribution. Check this link for Spoken word from Wikipedia spoken-word Dictionary: spo•ken-word (spō'kən-wûrd') adj. Spoken aloud, especially in performance: spoken-word poetry. Performing or involving a performance of the spoken word: "Whenever the media covers the poetry world, you can bet you will find spoken-word and street poets railing against the prudishness of the 'academic poets'" (Maureen McLane). The noun has one meaning: Meaning #1: a word that is spoken aloud http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spoken_word:

Review Request Direction: What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: New England - USA, USA

Favorite Poets: Robert Frost

More from this author

Comments

S

so is that your roundabout way of saying this should be read aloud? I liked it even though read silently. only suggestions:
L-5 change spring to spring's
L-12 delete continue..................scribbler

Pamela A. Lamppa

well...

I found it necessary to put the "continue" back into the poem.
Removing it disrupted the flow and de-emphasized the impact of those lines.

One never knows 'til one tries.
thanks again ~Pamela
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S

It's not like I expect All or any suggestions to be used. I just put them out there as alternatives and leave it up to writer if they fit their meaning or not.................scribbler PS poets write for.......anybody who'll read them lmao

themoonman

It's so good to see you back. I've seen your name the past
few days and dropped in today and found this little nugget.
I suppose you'd have to say that I'm on the side of the street
poets ... while the academia have their points as well. Poetry
can be complicated as hell, but when it flows ... it does.

Thanks for posting this one

Richard

Pamela A. Lamppa

Thank you kindly for the welcome.
I am pleased this met the mark for you.
I am practicing with this style of verse and have a long long way to go so any helpful hints and suggestions are welcomed.

Thank you again.

It is good be be back. ~Pamela

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Geezer

I read this aloud, and found it just as you said. A performance. One I throughly enjoyed! Sad, but true life. Nice work. ~ Gee

Pamela A. Lamppa

I thank you kindly sir.
It is good to be back. I am ready to roll up my sleeves and start working.
I have only begun to explore writing this type of poetry so I need a lot of thoughts and ideas to actually make it work. Glad this one met the mark for you.

Thank you again. ~Pamela

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Pamela A. Lamppa

Thank you so much. I am pleased this met the mark with your read. It is a form I have been experimenting with and with practice, may just get brave enough one day to stand up there and recite to a crowd. You never know.

I will have to take a peek at your pages again. I enjoy it when writers challenge themselves with new ideas and styles. Thank you again. ~Pamela

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Nordic cloud

I started to read and was caught up in the sounds, I didn't read other than in my own head, but then sounds are so important to me I can hear well, and this took me with it right to the end in a most charming manner, like a breeze over the prairie visiting thoughts here and there yet going in the same direction steadfast.

Sigh, this is nice, this 'song' in poetry.Pamela
Love Ann

wesley snow

This is very sad and very, very real. Honestly, I have never heard a "generic" poem read aloud in a performance environment. Everyone I know tells me I should be reading the big poem aloud. I was an Equity actor in my youth and have a moderately expressive voice, but the important thing is I have from the beginning imagined the poem being told to an audience as a traveling bard might perform it over nights when he came to the village. Seeing a "bard" perform such a thing at a faire when nine or ten were the first seeds of my monster.
This poem of yours seems deliberately written for voice. I can't honestly tell you why and that bugs me a little. It just does (I hate that sort of explanation). It is painfully true in its expression and I particularly liked the occasional internal rhyme whether it was intentional or not. Is this another experiment in form or have you performed your pieces before?
It is a very well constructed poem, but I will likely not read it again. When a poem succeeds as well as this at sadness I prefer to avoid them.
wesley

Pamela A. Lamppa

Thank you Wesley. Yes, this is deliberately written as "spoken word poetry" If I were to practice this, I would use this format to help me perform this piece. The story is a statement on the state of the US today. I could jump up on my soap box right now, but I think "October Blues" pretty much sums up a part of it.

For excellence in performance poetry::
http://www.andreagibson.org/

I was lucky enough to see her live and it was beyond amazing.
We stumbled upon her out of the blue, not even really knowing who she was until much later. Oh - it was such a gift.

Hear her and know life truths at a new level.
I would love to aspire to this.

I have done some live readings but nothing of this caliber. But I will continue to practice.

I appreciate your time with this one. It is personal and means a lot to me. Thank you. ~Pamela