Some Insist on Living By the Sea – Others Not So Much
Some Insist On Living By The Sea
Some insist on living by the sea,
waves, even without the wade of Jesus, soothing
the storm in their souls. Some sleep
to the shush of a stream; some to the silence
of deep pine. A few–hardy
types, who harken to the habitual–find reassurance
in the clickety rhythmics of nearby rails.
But I wake today in the sure understanding
that my residential pre-requisite
is a dumpster, or
two, whose persistent groans, extended yaws,
hyena bursts of hydraulics, are scheduled (always)
just a bit too early for my alarm.
I should, perhaps,
feel gratitude–they have followed me so
loyally, these dumpsters (trailed by trucks
and cartage contracts)–from apartment to
apartment, neighborhood to neighborhood,
like a stray (huge) cat that I must feed
(unwittingly) in some forgotten but
recurring dream, where we meet on a midnight
curb–me, with my bags
of recyclables, it
with its deep green mountainsides.
And I do–as my back leans against the wall, as the dove softness
of the hour slips to
sheet level, as everything above
tilts, sprawls, clumps,
like so much wadded detritus–feel thankful, yes,
that, in this particular bedroom, I can’t quite smell
the exhaust.
I’m posting this for dVerse Poets Pub’s “Meeting the Bar” challenge to be in the moment; this prompt hosted by Victoria C. Slotto.
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, UncategorizedTags: being in the moment poem, living by dumpster instead of sea, manicddaily, Poem about being woken up by dump trucks, poem about urban life
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March 30, 2012 at 7:54 am
‘hyena bursts’ . . Nice poem!
March 30, 2012 at 7:55 am
Thanks, Mark.
March 30, 2012 at 8:08 am
THIS is an inventive, topical and marvelous poem!!
One of the best I have read this week…..made me laugh and made me tear up for some unknown reason.
yes, living in the urban jungle takes an ability to look at things sideways.
Wonderful!!!
Lady Nyo
March 30, 2012 at 8:24 am
Ha! Thanks so much. K.
March 30, 2012 at 9:52 am
I really like this one, K. It has a lot of cargo, but it dumps it(to borrow your analogy) very lightly on the reader, and the smell is more of a succession of tomorrows than the ripeness of the past. I like the dove line best.
March 30, 2012 at 10:17 am
Thanks so much, Hedge.
March 30, 2012 at 12:50 pm
I love this song to urban living. Glad you have found a way to express this integral piece of living small and definitely “in the moment”.
March 30, 2012 at 2:59 pm
Wow, I love this. Something as banal as a dumpster turned into poetry of the present moment. In Reno, we’re only a mile or so from the train…probably less than. I don’t mind the sound except for the middle of night when it disrupts my sleep. Like your dumpster!
March 30, 2012 at 3:12 pm
Thanks, Victoria. I also have fog horns here sometimes (as I actually am near water)–but those are quite nice.
March 30, 2012 at 7:05 pm
Thank goodness for the mafia, perhaps? 🙂 I love the way you incorporate so much of you into the poem, which is about the dumpster emptying trucks. Very imaginitive in its description of the machines, hilarious in how they connect up with your everyday existence. Very fun to read, and says a lot about the intricate web of urban life and how it affects how we think and feel.
March 30, 2012 at 7:11 pm
Please! Don’t cast aspersions on the carters! K.
March 30, 2012 at 8:32 pm
loyal dumpsters. ha I have to say, you are a genius to be able to turn this topic into a beautiful poem.
March 30, 2012 at 9:24 pm
Love your alliteration here: “hardy types, who harken to the habitual”
Awesome sound: “extended yaws, hyena bursts of hydraulics”
March 30, 2012 at 9:31 pm
Thanks Shawna. K.
March 30, 2012 at 10:23 pm
Very Nice!
March 31, 2012 at 5:47 am
Enjoyed this very much indeed. Refreshing take on the prompt.