Thursday, December 9, 2010

Sledding with Cats









Sledding with Cats


Circling in white whirling sand,
old eyes blinded by the summer,
and numb feet in hard shoes
cannot tell it’s snow.

A car drives by on a silent street,
ghost at the wheel
singing a thirty year old song
thinking it’s still
alive.

The house, it’s empty, still.
Against the wall, a sled rusts,
propped by children’s hands
against a snowy day
long gone,
too many calculators and keyboards ago.

Still, in the granite sky
ten clouds make a wall
where the sun guards his back
and holds as best he can that high ground
against an empire of Cold
knowing what he loses one day
on another he'll win.

A child gets out
another sled, and finds another
hill, another child, another winter,
leaning against the door
and cries out loud the news
so even ghosts can hear.

And a dog that knows no better
drags her woman relentlessly
through cold frozen drizzle in
an infinite orgy of
evergreen canine spring.

Inside warm windows
cats are laughing.



Fall and Winter, 2010*





Originally posted for Magpie Tales, #44


*For those who may think some of the lines are familiar, this poem is composed in part of recycled and expanded bits and pieces of micropoetry and twitter haiku written over the course of the last few months.

24 comments:

  1. Wow, beautiful.

    "Ghost at the wheel." Yeah.

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  2. I love-love the line "Too many calculators and keyboards ago." Wonderful bone-chilling write.

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  3. I love those warm cats inside! Lovely poem.

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  4. wow I really liked this
    and the passing of time recounted that way
    ..and the music is always alive

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  5. What a delightful confection. Ghosts regain their ears, dogs drag their women along with them in simple good cheer, and cats, because they are cats, laugh at them all. Beautiful. And it made me laugh.

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  6. Spectacular piece - it sings of life and all things!

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  7. lovely images, especially the dog in forever spring and the cats laughing...in the warmth of it all...blessings...bkm

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  8. wonderfully well rounded piece. isn't that the attitude of the cat!
    loved it!
    thank you

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  9. The title alone is fabulous! And even though the ghost are driving, it seems the poetess is in full control...

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  10. This is so lush and full of wonderful images .. I loved it!

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  11. oh I love this poem of yours....
    "Ghost at the wheel
    Singing a thirty year old song
    Thinking it’s still
    Alive." and that's just one line of your fabulous piece! Bravissimo!

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  12. This is really evocative =) love it the tale you tell so beautifully...

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  13. Well, I don't know about caxtons... but this is beautiful and ethereal, and may just have become my favourite among your poems.

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  14. "in the granite sky/ten clouds make a wall/where the sun guards his back" Superb.

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  15. I read this through a couple more times and it got better each time. Great write.

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  16. This is wonderful. So glad you reposted. I like every part of it. K.

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  17. Love the way you recycle! Every facet is fine. (but I'm with the cats)

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  18. intriguing hedge....lots of imagery...the ghost in cars singing 30 year old songs, dogs dragging their wives...its kinda like a morbid circus...but then again our world can be...smiles.

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  19. ghost at the wheel
    singing a thirty year old song
    thinking it’s still
    alive...there's so much sadness and loneliness in these few lines that it hurts.. fascinating pic you paint.. and we have lots of snow over here right now..

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  20. This cracked me up:

    "singing a thirty year old song
    thinking it’s still
    alive"

    Loved the laughing cats. :)

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  21. Lovely! Your words almost make me want some snow to come...almost.

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  22. Memory seems to be the thing to do when Winter reigns. This lovely, wonderfully crafted poem brings the season to life, amidst its effirt to stifle spirit. But even the ghosts drive cars, and a sled remembers children who rode it down snowy hills that other children now enjoy. Do we remember only in sadness, or can the cats' laughter betoken a side of life that brings balance and wholeness to memory can sometimes only grasp in tatters? Your poem reminds usvto seek wholeness, even in loss.

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  23. Came back to read again. Beautiful.

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg