Friday, February 19, 2010

This is Me Being Literary

It's a poem. Never mind that close inspection reveals most of the lines to be utter drivel. It's art, man. Just feel it. Let it wash over you, like uh....uh...shower water. Yeah. Like shower water, man.



The trees are bleeding color,
Yellow, orange, dark red.
The sky above is granite.
Cold raindrops pelt my head.
There's a river in the gutter,
flowing swiftly toward a drain,
And the sidewalk is a puddle
of dimpled, mirrored terrain.
The worms have left their harbor;
They've come above to die,
And somewhere leaves are cooking
Smoke twists into the sky.
There's sorrow in the air today;
it quarters discontent.
Arriving on a bitter wind
comes summer's last lament.


In answer to your question, I have no idea why someone is burning leaves in a rainstorm. Seems foolish to me too.


14 comments:

Kelly said...

I like the bleeding colors line.
Those leaves won't be burning for long!
Go share your deep thoughts at today's Poetry Friday...

Jonathon Arntson said...

Wow, I envy your ability to be both poetic and a smart-ass. Teach lessons?

Tina Laurel Lee said...

I like your meter. Do things just come out in rhythm for you? or do you work hard for that?

And the whole feel of the thing. Very dramatic, like the cover of the book you're reading.

Paul Michael Murphy said...

I don't know anything about poetry, as is probably in evidence every time I post some.

It either sounds right to me or it doesn't.

Tina Laurel Lee said...

Your poetry is always fun. I never notice you not knowing anything about it when you post some.

DebraLSchubert said...

That's what I love about poetry, it doesn't have to make sense. It just has to flow and paint pictures, similar to song lyrics. Good job, Murph. ;-)

Anonymous said...

Bleeding trees and burning leaves,
Granite skies above.
Dying worms, O how they squirm!
When push doth come to shove.

I can see a series here, just waiting to be tapped.
Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall
Some even overlapped.

Keep us, your peeps in reading mode.
Give us more to ponder.
You have a gift. Your poetry
Is full of life and wonder!

Paul Michael Murphy said...

Upstaged on my own blog! How can I compete with anyone who works the poetic 'O' and 'doth' into the same poem?

Jonathon Arntson said...

Kel-I mean, anonymous rocks!

Paul Michael Murphy said...

I actually guessing my mom, Jonathon.

She liketh the poetry.

Anita said...

I can't BELIEVE Jonathon guessed Kelly and not me. I am becoming nothing on this blog!!!

(P.S. I did not actually write the poem)

The Wife said...

Anita Anita Anita. Cheer up, Charlie. You're like family here at Murphblog.

Anita said...

That comment is printer worthy!

word verification: shwskers

Laura Pauling said...

Lovely poetry - maybe they burn leaves in light rain so as not to spread a fire? I've seen it before in PA where they burn everything.