I woke up this morning to wonderment and awe.
It was raining and cold outside,
as it should be
I was warm in bed and stayed as long as needed.
Then,
oh yes then,
I made pancakes and bacon with maple syrup
and strong fresh coffee for breakfast.
I pondered my eight lives spent,
and the most beautiful angel guarding the last,
and added more cholesterol
and gave my readers only this
[grins]
Comments
Jess
There's nothing better than lying in, then getting up when you're ready and having a great breakfast, it can be heaven. This is bound to make a person happy.
I like the way the poem encapsulates , your perfect morning. A simple but effective poem.
But mine is better , just joking lmao !!
Nice job.
Lou
No, your's is definitely better,
this was the best I could do at the moment.
And I love the Hunter S. tag you are using!
Jess
I love Hunter S. Thompson.
Lou
Many years ago
I was sitting in a train, dressed like a hippie, for fun, though my hair was still spiky and coloured. A young guy got on the train and sat opposite me, pulled out a bookshop bag and from that pulled a brand new copy of "Fear and Loathing In Los Vegas". He opened to the first page then I grinned evilly, leaned towards him and said
"We were somewhere near Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold".
He almost tried to climb out the closed window of the train before he looked back at the book and read the opening lines.
Hunter S. Thompson is one of my gods.
:-)
:-)
Only this....love when *that* happens....one might be tempted to call it bliss.
~A
I have no need for that
I have no need for this
I dance at the feet of my lord
all is bliss
all is bliss
bullfuckingshit
give me IT!
Hahaha. How many poems I
Hahaha. How many poems I wrote in my heyday..... the only dance there is....bliss....
Reminds me of an old poem of mine called Shakti and its companion poem Shiva. There has to be 2 to do *it*, eh...well not always.... the universe is fucking great if one has no fucking companion.
;-)
~A
We can be gods alone
and the last time I did the tantric dance of Shakti and Shiva I burned my chakras to a crisp. Sure, I was young and foolish, but the power is available to eveyone.
That's the power of the
That's the power of the universe....the will to manifest creation.
I may not live in the bliss 24/7 as once I have, now that I have a physical companion, but then again, just who would I pay attention to? evil grin.
~A
ta lonnie
I guess it worked at some level
mmmm ...
I'll have some of that bacon on some bread, with a fresh
garden tomato and mayo, a sprinkle of salt and pepper,
and the read.
I started to sand blast you for using "beautiful angel", but,
it does seem to fit rather well in this.
thanks Jess
the "beautiful angel"
is a sly reference to Lucifer,
reckon none of the other angels would keep such a close eye on me.
crikey! where to start on a critique like this?
"I woke up this morning to wonderment and awe.
It was raining and cold outside,"
Uses the trite sentimentality of wonderment and awe in a wry way to counterpoint the weather. How did I Know it was cold and wet? Looked out the window and felt it, silly.
The American style breakfast is one of my favourites, not everything has to be damper and kookaburras just cos I'm an Aussie.
Glad the ending worked for you.
Dampier was the explorer
damper is bush bread, baked in the coals. Not much more appetising than wichetigrubs.
Well, when you get here you can make your own damper and you'll be in good[strike that] interesting company [grins]
I was referring to myself as a cat metaphorically, Rosi.
I'm not sure what it is you think other readers might not get.
the cheshire me
}8)+<
}8)+
}8)
8)
)
ah, but I do know cats, better than most,
remember I am sole in charge of minding my friend Jan's cattery (around 20 throughbreds and boarders) several times a year and have been owned by one or two cats most of my life. The "Nine lives" thing, like most mythology, stems from an aspect of reality- namely cat's ability to land on their feet and extricate themselves from dangerous situations.
So you won't catch me that easily, my dear, when I say "poetry is never fiction" I am referring to an inate or inner truth. Which is absolutely present here. I have frequently snuggled happily under the covers rather than get up on a nasty morning and reflected on my charmed, seemingly protected life.
When I have chided you for not writing what you know it is when I have honestly felt from the write that you had insufficient knowledge or experience of the subject to give it that "ring of truth".
I wish you all the best in that.
We're not so different, my condition is not purely neurological, as you know, and medication may help yours.
It can be hard work, but there will always be Bliss.
You know how you refer to
You know how you refer to yourself of Xena? In this case, Jess is referring to himself as Jess of the 8 lives lived.
Simple deduction, Mr. Watson.
~A
See my comment above, and
you are quite right that 8 isn't that many. As a person with Bi-polar and low impulse control I have had many near death experiences. 8 of 9 merely reflects the old maxim about cats.
Tongue in cheek elf cos the
Tongue in cheek elf cos the main poem is the last half, the rest is the lingering apathy of us Aussies in Winter..but that last stanza rocks.
If I ever removed my tongue from my cheek,
it would probably fall out.
Ta Chez
nice?super?
copying Xena's deliberate mis-interpretation of the eight lives?
I don't trust you yet.
But thanks for playing nice.
ok, fair enough, my bad
so I expect to see you in my upcoming Shark Pool workshop "Deep analysis of poetry"
Jess,
I enjoyed this read.
For me this was pretty visual... I could FEEL the waking up, the lazy look out at the cold wet weather, the DELIGHT of pancakes and fresh coffee.
I thought the reference to 9 lives of a cat was used well.
Cheers,
Psyve
ta psyve
good to hear from you