You had to wait a bit longer than usual for this one, but I think giving you four two weeks ago should make up for it. Regrettably, this will be the final installment of "Freshman Poem of the Week." Fortunately, I've saved the best for last.
What the Reed Sees
In the woods behind my house
Stands a small, windswept clearing
Where my children go to play.
I played there too, as a child.
Donning a muddy feather headdress
I swung a plastic axe
Until imaginary bullets
Pierced my heart.
On one edge of the clearing
Under the climbing tree
A dirty puddle waited to explode.
Its thin green film and rotten odor
Enticing little boys
To push each other in.
Jason drank it once.
He got to stay home from school
For a whole week.
From the depths of the puddle
Grows a single reed
Tall and alone
It bends in the wind
Bowing nearly in two
Its tip brushing moldy water
In the weight of the gale
Clutching tightly to its place
And holding on.
4 comments:
fantastic! I remember when you read this poem in class. It's an amazing poem and I loved reading it again. Thanks!
to be honest... i don't get it.
i can imagine this as the start to an interesting story. the imagery is good; it paints a vivid picture in my mind. but it feels rather jumbled, like i am seeing several different images that are all really intriguing, but i have no idea how they fit together. i am left looking for some sort of cohesive element which seems, to me, to be missing.
I remember this from your freshman year. I like it a lot, and not just because you used my name. ;-)
I agree with Fendeilagh; the imagery is first rate, but the elements of the picture don't create a unified impression or message.
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