My day dredges through its habits
like chicken wings that flop through flour,
like tame lettuce-nibbling rabbits,
so to say, lacking brainpower.
Rote nothings wasting useful hours.
I need to force feed, briefly sleep,
skip the laundry and flush the shower,
and pray the lord my mind to keep.
Edward Ahern is a fiction writer and retired international trade executive living in Fairfield, Connecticut.
Such verbal virtuosity! I like how each poem stands on its own in its chosen form, but maps an emotional…
Loved “The Old Poet Comes Clean,” C.B. Very relatable!
Thank you, Paul, for this exceptionally fun way to start the day! Dr. Seuss is on my (very long) list…
Joseph - I especially liked "Advice...", it brought back memories of illicit smokes! But didn't all the good makers flee…
Thank you, Joseph. That last line was the most difficult to translate, as it speaks literally of where the poet…
I love it!
Exactly!
My sentiments, too, Mr. Ahern:
Current conditions pose demands
That weigh on us and often make
Us feel we are but sifting sand
Or drifting aimless, like some flake.
I enjoyed ‘Rote Musings’ wonderful!
The opening images certainly figure the waste of time and lack of brainpower! The sloppy meter in the first four lines does the same, but this is a set-up for the increased regularity and mental speed in the last four lines. You even offer symmetry of the two parts of the poem, as line 2 is the only line of regular iambic tetrameter in the first four, and line 7 the only irregular one in the last four. And though line 7 shows metrical variation, it has four stresses, showing that meter has improved to the degree that you are displaying credible mental effort as you ask the Lord to preserve your mind. Interesting metrical effects that support your theme!
This little poem, Edward, is a gem in many ways, most especially for the points noted by Ms. Coats, which I might not have noticed had she not pointed them out. Indirection and outrageous images (“like chicken wings that flop through flour”) are lovely things. The very last line was an evocative echo of the “Now I lay me …” verse my mother recited with me when I was very young.
Edward, this is an instantly engaging gem of a poem. Its quirky observations and lovely closing line have me smiling in delight. Bravo!
Nice! Who hasn’t had days like this? But it never occurred to me to liken them to “chicken wings that flop through flower” with tame rabbits nibbling lettuce, close on their heels. I love it.
That was supposed to be “flour”…