An Egg Is Not A Light Bulb

An Egg Is Not A Light Bulb

You make mistakes sometimes.  (If you are like me, you may wish to substitute the words “often” or “frequently” or “constantly” for the temporal element in that last sentence.)

Oddly, the resulting embarrassment, shame, recrimination can be just as intense with small mistakes as big ones.

After all, caught in the wallop of a catastrophic misjudgment, you may feel that fate, or at a minimum, genetics, have conspired against you, while little stupidities seem all your own fault.  Or worse, your brain’s fault–your decaying, ill-functioning, brain.  Even worse–your not-decaying, but lifelong-faulty, brain.

I read a confirmation code to someone today that started with the letters HTO.  It was only after he said “that’s easy to remember, like water,” that I realized that I’d been repeatedly saying H2O.

And believe me, that was the least of it.

Computers compound one’s natural propensity for error–the screen providing a sympathetic gloss for the most flagrant typo; the automatic replace function exponentially upping the ante.

All of the above leads me to the reposting of a villanelle.  (I’m sorry if you’ve seen this one before, but perhaps, if you are like me, you’ve forgotten it…)

Villanelle to Wandering Brain

Sometimes my mind feels like it’s lost its way
and must make do with words that are in reach
as pink as dusk (not dawn), the half-light of the day,

when what it craves is crimson, noon in May,
the unscathed verb or complex forms of speech.
But sometimes my mind feels like it’s lost its way

and calls the egg a lightbulb, plan a tray,
and no matter how it search or how beseech
is pink as dusk (not dawn), the half-light of the day.

I try to make a joke of my decay
or say that busy-ness acts as the leech
that makes my mind feel like it’s lost its way,

but whole years seem as spent as last month’s pay,
plundered in unmet dares to eat a peach
as pink as dusk (not dawn), the half-light of the day.

There is so much I think I still should say,
so press poor words like linens to heart’s breach,
but find my mind has somehow lost its way
as pink as dusk (not dawn), the half-light of the day.

For more villanelles, or info on how to write them, check out that category from the ManicDDaily home page.

Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, Stress, villanelle

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3 Comments on “An Egg Is Not A Light Bulb”

  1. Mark Says:

    The Bulb and the Egg! . . . these are beautiful.

    Ka you love these Villanelle’s . . . . but I’m wondering WHY you like them. . .
    what led to your passion for them!

    • manicddaily Says:

      Thanks so much. This is an older one, but I do like writing them (because of the repetition, I think.)

    • manicddaily Says:

      Mark, the whole of your comment didn’t show up, so I didn’t truly reply.

      I like Villanelles because the form provides an inherent music, due to the repetition, meter and rhyme. I think I wrote a post about this – maybe one about how writing a Villanelle is like assembling banana pudding – it would show up on a search if you look at Villanelle category.

      One great thing is that because you repeat the two lines so often, you don’t have to think of so many lines to finish the poem!


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