A Fire Was In My Head

Two Stanzas of an Incomplete Work
31 July 2011, 6:23 pm
Filed under: Draft

I haven’t quite figured out what to do with these.  They’re two good little quatrains, but I don’t think either follows the other directly.  They don’t make up a full poem yet, to say the least.

As adults we lose our sense of play, and as an “adult society”–that is, a society which has progressed from an earlier, larva state, a central cultural myth–we seem to have lost our taste for rhyme.  Why is that?  Where does it leave us?  Do we have to press so unhaltingly “forward”?  Should we remember and savor more than we do?  I think so.

The above questions marched through my mind when I wrote the poetry below.


Lo, what’s become of our dear schooltime whim?
The words have slunk away to the new young
As light bejewels a silver jungle gym
but not the backturned children whence were flung.

The posies all have petrified to coin.
(We might improve our floorboards and our sidings,
but bored we ask and boring they rejoin
about some soon-to-be-forgotten tidings.)


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