Tuesday, October 4, 2011

October? Really?

Wow, it's been too long. Again.

However, dear readers, I managed to come up with an inspiration to write, and I actually acted upon it before said inspiration was forgotten in a flurry of cleaning, appointments, and preschool chauffeuring.

I have always loved the piano pieces of Debussy, and I had the idea to take his Images and write a poem for each piece. This is what I came up with. If you are inspired by my idea, by all means grab one of your favorite instrumental pieces and write a poem that seems to fit it to you.

Reflets Dans L’Eau (Reflections in the Water)

Each wave and ripple a caress to my vision
I contemplate the numberless disturbances
caused by a breeze, a falling insect, a leaf.
Tiny frogs leap, causing little rain showers.
Water skimmers skating impossibly
over the surface as if it were frozen hard,
despite this being midsummer.
A sudden lull, I feel as if I could almost fall asleep
right where I stand, transfixed by this miniature drama.
Now a feather has found its way through the dwarven currents of air
and hovers ever so slightly over the water’s surface,
buffeted, then swirls down to kiss its twin underneath.
A swan eases onto its hundredth journey across the pond.
So still above the water, only its steady black feet propel its body
past lilies and foliage, under the shadowing trees,
to the waiting weeds on the opposite shore.
Peace fills me as I turn away.

Hommage a Rameau (Homage to Rameau)

I have rehearsed the words in my head for days
but none seem that they are appropriate
or in the right order as I pace from wall to wall
in my room.
I pause before the mirror and survey the lines crossing my face.
This examination does not assist me in my task,
so I resume pacing.
Suddenly inspiration seizes my tired mind,
and I fly to my desk to pin the words down on paper.
As fast as inspiration strikes, it slips away.
Pacing resumes again.
I begin to walk backwards, if only to hopefully jog my mind
into betraying the hidden ideas
I have been trying to coax out into the open.
I walk faster and with more purpose until I find something worthy
or until I crash into a piece of furniture.
Either way I will have changed the dreary status quo.
Such a gorgeous collection of qualities are rare in anyone,
small wonder summing up the effect of such an one
is racking my brain to its capacity.
Still, I will do my best to do him justice, it is what he deserves.

Mouvement (Movement)

I awake to the unmistakable
tapping on my window
of tiny crystalline structures.
The first snow of the winter.
In a flurry of activity, clothing wrenched on,
a mad tumble of boots, snowpants and jacket,
don’t-forget-your-hat-and-mittens, then
tumbling out the door to find my friend.
She is already here, laughing,
making snow angels in the yard.
I flop down next to her.
It is still snowing, and the tiny flakes
alternate between tickling and stinging my nose.
We stick out our tongues to see
how many we can catch,
before jumping up on a search for icicles.
We find a roof full of them and break the two biggest off
for tasteless popsicles.
A faint shriek reminds us of a nearly-forgotten activity:
We grab our toboggans and sprint as best we can
in heavy boots sized a bit too big.
The interminable climb is punctuated by
a leap, then tearing nearly straight down,
ending in a fluffy crash in a snowbank at the bottom.
More giggles and ten trips later,
we head back to the front yard, where enough
snow has fallen to warrant our next creation.
Careful rolling and shaping,
adding to a judicious choice of accessories,
and the snowman is complete,
just in time to bid us goodnight as we drag back
into the house for a well-earned nap.

Cloches a Travers les Feuilles (Bells through the leaves)

Thoughts whirl around my mind
as leaves in a cyclone.
I have to keep moving, or if I should stop I may
topple over from the centrifugal force.
Now I pick up the pace,
hoping the increased blood flow will
silence the nagging voices.
Once I get going, a sense of equilibrium returns.
Still doubts hound me, nipping at my heels,
but I know that if I just keep moving forward
they will tire and fall away.
The wind is delicious despite its playful pushing
at my face as I try to imitate the others
gliding along ahead of me.
I’ll never catch them, but I don’t care.
I just focus on the joy that is
keeping going on,
watching the sky grow lighter,
greeting the grasshoppers,
butterflies, birds, squirrels and chipmunks
as they curiously survey my progress.
When my legs try to convince me to slow,
I do my best to ignore the sensation,
until I reach my goal.

Et la Lune Descend sur le temple qui fut (And the moon descends over the ruins of the temple)

The moon is already setting,
giving up her perch among the stars,
even as I wish she were still comfortable
high in the firmament.
I have stayed up too late again,
fiddling with inconsequential things,
losing track of time while doing chores,
but mostly just wasting time.
I shake off my sense of annoyance and
will my mind to relax, to prepare for sleep.
Nobody likes to lie in bed and find their brain
will not shut off to rest.
Slowly I settle into my nighttime routine,
breathing deeply, thinking
of all I have to be thankful for--
my health, my family, good friends,
the successes of the day,
and what I have to look forward to tomorrow.
I have tried my best, and that will simply
have to do for today.
As I lay down my head,
I smile.

Poissons d’Or (Fish of Gold)

Every day is a new adventure.
I leap out of bed, asking,
“What are we going to do today?”
Whatever the plans, my response always,
“Oh, that will be fun!”

Always hungry, I devour
breakfast as soon as it appears before me.
I enjoy bringing my milk and my brother’s
to the table. I’m careful not to spill.
I even put my milk back in the fridge
when I’m all done.

Maybe we’ll go to the park today.
If we do, I'll be sure to say hello
to the mailman in his truck, and ask
for the hundredth time if he’s delivering
the mail to people.

Then I’ll climb to the top of the treehouse
and yell down “Hello down there!”
and “I’m up higher!”
When I come down, I’ll ask
to be pushed in the swing like my little brother.

After lunch, we’ll go to school.
I can hardly be bothered to hang up my bag
before I say “Bye!” and find my friends.
While I don’t like to leave,
I’m always happy to see Mommy again.


Mimi said...

My youngest, ever the overachiever. :-) Lovely thoughts, well put!

paige said...

so cool :) Love this idea...

Anonymous said...

This is an awesome idea.

Unfortunately, I don't usually get visual with my audio, so I'll have to pass.