« I Vote for Candy | Main | 13 Thursday: Sushi Belushi »

Life on Paper

pms71.gif
Are poems like autumn leaves
forgotten after they fall?
Do we only pay attention
to the bright red maple
and ignore the buried brown?

Do we pile them up to burn?
How long before they yellow?
Is no word immortal?
Are they fleeting as thoughts?
Transparent as ghosts?
What do poems do
in the afterlife?

Comments

Very nice. I like the format of questions.
Wordless Wednesday - Cody's Help and Halloween

I hope there's one person (just one person) who gets inspired with every poem we make.

Lovely Colleen! :)

profound for sure....

Very interesting! I enjoy your poems!

I think it depends on the poem. I think probably some poems swim across the ocean, while others are ground into sand. They are like life forms, in that they all share the same basic elements. Carbon or hope. Hope-based life forms.

I like this. Thanks for stopping in and leaving a comment on my blog.

I have so many poems buried in paper that I can't keep track of them. Sometimes they seem so fleeting, like shopping lists tossed aside. Leaves remind me of paper. Time written on them.

That was a typo...immoral should say immortal! What a difference one T can make. Corrected.

Colleen,

I haven't look at your blog in several months, but it's kind of synchronistic that this poem is the first thing I'd read when I did look at it.

Last week I discovered I still have my notebook of old poems--and I mean this is a REALLY old notebook! The poems go back to my teen years in the early 1960s, which means I could go back in time and see myself falling in love for the first time. Then somewhat later there was my coffeehouse/hippie period. Some of the poems from that period could have been written in my favorite coffeehouse--and I mean on the same sheet of paper I have now, because this notebook contains mostly my handwritten originals.

Inevitably, some of the poems are a little embarrassing to read now because the writing is so amateurish. But for the most part reading that old notebook was like opening a long-sealed potpourri jar and being overwhelmed by the fragrance of the past...the bitter and the sweet, as you'd expect.

Linda aka Raksha

So sweet. I have a notebook of poetry that goes back to about the age of 19. There is some good stuff amongst the bad and I can see my style emerging. My handwriting was better back then.

wistful.

I don't forget the leaves after they fall, I treasure them in my images. So maybe there is someone out there who treasures each poem.

Thanks for stopping by my blog. It's been a while since I have been blog hopping. I just left a job at UPS after loading boxes from 4 am to 9 am every morning. Whew, I am hoping to get my online life back now that I am sleeping a normal shift. It really is nice to reconnect with you! Hope you are well.

This is beautiful! All unanswered questions.

nice photo. your season seems at the same stage as here. do you find your photography uses the same creative part of the brain so the more you photograph, the less you write? I'm finding that myself.

like "ignore the buried brown"

what do poems do in the afterlife? reincarnate into other poems. all poems, all things have buddhahood.do any reach satori?

Post a comment