Poetry Challenge 31

Honoring small things.

Glow, a frequent contributor to the poetry challenge, writes that her beloved kitty, Toklas, died yesterday.

So, write about something so small that we might overlook it, but that forms a kind of glue in daily life–the purr of a cat, the sound of a furnace in the background, the feel of a good writing pen, the taste of well-brewed coffee.  Write without sentimentality, but give the small thing its due, in honor of a yellow cat.

——————————————————–

Here’s Glow’s poem:

 

at home,
the river did not run wild
but flowed bounded
red dirt farms on one side
tame oak forests on the other
every day for fourteen years
I walked to the river
sat on the Rock and watched it pass
swam in summer with catfish
long as my arms
tempted lightning during storms
cried, raged, bathed, napped,
laughed, combed my hair,
made love, called kitties and goats and dogs,
giggled at puppies learning to swim,
did ritual, chatted with the neighbors,
listened to crickets, frogs, mockingbirds,
unseen rustlers in the brush,
hiked, found arrowheads,
picked mushrooms, built fires,
scratched chiggers, swatted bugs,
mapped the edges of the land,
but mostly just sat, watched, endured
daily tedium
released by the incessant brown water
just like hundreds of souls before me
who lived along the river
lulled by the flow of water
to carry on the duties of life and death

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2 Responses to “Poetry Challenge 31”

  1. Glow Says:

    Toklas’s family is honored by your poetry challenge. The human members are truly touched. Thank you for such a fine celebration of our kitty.

  2. Glow Says:

    at home,
    the river did not run wild
    but flowed bounded
    red dirt farms on one side
    tame oak forests on the other
    every day for fourteen years
    I walked to the river
    sat on the Rock and watched it pass
    swam in summer with catfish
    long as my arms
    tempted lightning during storms
    cried, raged, bathed, napped,
    laughed, combed my hair,
    made love, called kitties and goats and dogs,
    giggled at puppies learning to swim,
    did ritual, chatted with the neighbors,
    listened to crickets, frogs, mockingbirds,
    unseen rustlers in the brush,
    hiked, found arrowheads,
    picked mushrooms, built fires,
    scratched chiggers, swatted bugs,
    mapped the edges of the land,
    but mostly just sat, watched, endured
    daily tedium
    released by the incessant brown water
    just like hundreds of souls before me
    who lived along the river
    lulled by the flow of water
    to carry on the duties of life and death

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