old brown shoes
wonder the eyes that kneel in mud.
wonder the eyes of a moth eatinglight.
or sky and sea as the far albatross
stitches by feather thumbs.
one truth in simple dirt.
one reason for elemental light.
and faith will now including doubt,
climbing into the tree of lies.
notice how light is making you.
illumination, there is dilemma implied.
as much as fingers craft a waterbowl,
misgivings taken as eagerdark. yet
shadow is mere membrane and dance
is swift passage like a breath.
notice how light implies a choice.
defining membrane is
like boundary acting as partition,
me and other. it’s the way we define
ourselves. understanding
is a membrane too.
a convenience of necessity
knowing poison from fruit, and ripe,
if you understand?
said another way, walls are a
requirement for understanding to be.
said another way, no thing is a wall.
consider, there’s a reason why eyes
look outward from the deepbrightnight,
not inwardly.
consider old brown shoes
dusty with truth.
neil reid © february 2012
commentary
To this particular prompt about global civil rights I had an immediate response actually (no worry that I don’t so much engage in poems civil/political in nature). Great notion I thought, then just as swiftly remembered, oh yea, someone else already wrote that poem – in just the manner I felt my response. Lucille Clifton’s poem “Atlas”, one of the earliest poems that genuinely got my attention and appreciation.
i am used to the heft of it
sitting against my rib…
i have learned to carry it
the way a poor man learns
to carry everything.
Lucille Clifton, from The Book of Light
I used to ride the city bus often in those days. In fact that’s where I read the poem, part of a public literary display on an information banner. I very much felt and identified with that statement. That way also that desert people learn to stand in whatever measure of shadow they can find; where even a few inches is less heat to absorb. Like that too.
Well if you’ve read the prompt as well Donald’s original poem, perhaps you’ll think my response (Lucille’s poem I mean) is already some measure a step aside of words directly to his prompt idea. However, it rings just right and true to me, looks with a different light to the more obvious possibilities.
Long short, then what’s to do for a poem of my own? Here my response, my result, and maybe yea, I’ve taken even one step or two even farther from the obvious but I think I feel there’s a rhythm a hum just inside the linear meanings that comes in its own way to addressing what was asked of us to consider here. (And yes, tangential of me I do suppose. But then sometimes we see best when looking just slightly to the side.)
Written to We Write Poems, prompt #92, Big shoes by Donald Harbour.
Please find the prompt responses of other writers here.
I am at a loss for words. What ever you ate for breakfast went straight to your heart and mind. “Consider old brown shoes, dusty with truth,” those two lines are the only poetry needed. I suppose that socks are ‘like boundary acting as partition’, there are so many metaphors in these lines a literature class would have a field day with your poem. I really enjoyed reading this Neil. No matter who has written a poem in the past, the pin of ‘more obvious possibilities, has a tendency to grow its own shining ‘illumination.’ Great work!
Regards,
Donald
Donald you touch me with your kindly response to my offering, especially as the prompt was your own, especially as this seemed such a challenge for me to address. So my appreciation with much respect and thanks to you!
Thanks for starting me toward where I didn’t expect to go. That’s always the part of writing that most excites me.
neil
Neil, I love the imagery in this poem. I found this prompt very difficult. How do we say what we know, and feel without becoming too profound? You certainly found the way to say it.
“defining membrane is
like boundary acting as partition,”
That says so much.
Pamela
Thank you Pamela. Your participation is gemlike here, the poems you write, the comments you share. Me too, difficult this prompt, but I found my way in, or it found me, as did you, your fly in the ointment.
Making it more personal, and that’s where we live isn’t it, where maybe someone will give a hoot for what we feel or say – that was the route for both of us. The prompt wasn’t directly my choice but I do take to heart our WWP “community” prompts and want not to edit something out just because it is not comfortable to me or my own personal tastes. Besides, it’s just another opportunity to learn.
Thanks again, neil
Well, light does imply a choice — do we embrace it and walk into it, or do we remain in the dark of our own fear?
There is so much in this poem that gives the reader pause for thought. How do we as humans live, with membranes or walls between each other? Do we define ourselves solely by our partitions or do those partitions — the social constructs created because of the color, shape, faith, and choice of love of the bodies we incarnate into — only serve to create the suits of clothes, our skins, that we wear in this lifetime? Do we pay attention to what are inside the suits of clothes?
Very rich response to the prompt, Neil.
- Nicole
Thank you much Nicole. I know you always pay attention to detail – observe, and that’s a potent gift. Yes, what’s inside the suit of clothes, as you say? We need what we wear – how does the chicken cross the street without getting run over by traffic. So what mind does is important certainly. However we need remember appropriateness, the coins of Caesar, and not apply those judgments where they don’t belong, as fear might suggest. Huh?
Interesting challenge to examine that process and history, how we came to be, how we learn, and get keep it personal (my stance) – and do all that in the clothes of a poem! Thanks again.
neil
Yes what *did* you eat for breakfast? The poem is dense, articulated but dense. But I like it a lot. Nicole’s response does capture it.
Ha! But you know one of the meals I dream most about is breakfast (yet seldom eat)!
Wasn’t exactly “planned” (I get too bored for doing that) but yes, could write one essay at least for all the bits at least hinted at poetically. It is challenging (difficult) to articulate those points of view yet within the framework of a poem, both neither too long nor too dense (I hope).
cheerios? neil
indeed lots going on here….very nice and thanks for sharing
Thanks Wayne. Sorry I couldn’t get past your blog ID test. Like your poem too. Serene. Like you paintings. I like those too.
neil
Neil, you continue to delight my poetic senses – and make my brain think. It’s a wonderful poem. I like how you’ve played with light, a theme that you return to – as well as the shoes, and membranes and walls. And your compression of language – “eatinglight” and “eagerdark” is so appropriate for that message of “no thing is a wall”.
Richard
Thank you RIchard. Oft times my poems will reference our cultural understanding of science at its most elemental. I’m not up to a real (mathematical) understanding, but I try my best in a lay sense. And even science has a lot to offer if we as a people really paid attention.
ie. All matter is fundamentally light. Membranes, like our skin, like all cell walls, are more open space than solid barrier. So just where are the walls, really. It is our organization, our poetry of life, that imparts the appearance of disunity and separation. (the list goes on) So what’s the big deal about our fears, our sense of self, our worries about loss? That comes into poems for me, although saying it too outright might seem a boring thing. Understanding in that sense is not irrelevant.
And making that all sensible and personal – that’s a challenge I also adore.
Also, the mergedwords, those are directly in thanks to another friend whose name will go unspoken (by her request). So simple and to my own taste I was surprised when first seen used by her. And I love a little gentle tampering with language, maybe making us slow and pause and wonder about the meanings we take so for granted usually.
Thank you again, neil