Trying Hard Though/ Roadside
Trying Hard Though
I’d like to be–
a breath of fresh air,
drink of cool water,
fireflight encirling warmth, nights.
I’m more likely–
a breath of cold water,
drink of end air,
night flight, circling–
Meaning, if you would find me, seek,
the sodden, panting, extremely late,
still warm–
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The above is a poem about what makes me weird for Mama Zen’s prompt on With Real Toads. MZ, the mistress of the verbally distilled, limits the poem at 46 words. Writing this poem led me to the longer one below–sorry to try your patience, but if you are interested, it seemed to me the better poem– Unfortunately, the pictures I tried to get of what I describe below did not work out–they needed to be videos taken from a moving bicycle–something that is well beyond my pay grade!
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Roadside
What I like about myself–
that I bow to the shadows of crickets flickering on the tar,
when the sun shines at just the right angle,
the whir of my bike stilling
by the lithe field.
What I don’t like about myself–
that I see shadows everywhere.
What I like about myself–
that I think about that dance of grays
for days afterwards, that I think too of the field–
how the grass rippled like a stream,
light sparking in the dry darts
of thoraces.
What I don’t like about myself:
that my brain feels
like crickets scampering.
What I don’t like about myself:
as many things as there are crickets
in the field.
What I like: that, for a short while, while the sun shone
at just the right angle,
my mind wheeled in sync
with singing legs.
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Thanks.
ps–I will be without Internet for the next few days so will not be able to return comments. Will respond when I return.
Explore posts in the same categories: poetryTags: breath of cool water, Cricket shadow poem, manicddaily, Roadside poem, shadows in the brain, weird me poems, what you see on two wheels poem
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ManicDDaily 
August 28, 2014 at 8:30 pm
smiles…glad you found your happy place on the bike…
i think too we all have those things that we dont like about ourselves…for one reason or another…and i dunno
kinda glad i can see those shadows…
August 28, 2014 at 8:49 pm
Interesting perspective of your mind, roadside…riding bike makes me feel like a kid, whee! Yes, we need to enjoy those wonderful moments when everything’s in sync 🙂
August 28, 2014 at 10:36 pm
Crickets, shadows, whirring … I couldn’t not read the second poem I like both titles, but the images in the second poem are so evocative of a time when, yes, we bowed to the shadow of crickets and legs and wheels–what free and capable moments.
August 28, 2014 at 10:55 pm
I love the photo ~ the shadow of your bike wheel is neat! ‘I’d like to be ~ I’m more likely’ is refreshingly honest and works well within the word limit of our good Dr. Zen! # 1 my favorite …
August 29, 2014 at 2:31 am
love the singing legs and that you found that place of peace and sync… there’s lot of things that i don’t like about me and i think we tend to be too rough with ourselves…sigh… note to myself… smile in the mirror more often
August 29, 2014 at 4:13 am
So lovely!!! Love how you have put both of what you are and not… It’s beautiful
August 29, 2014 at 5:10 am
love it, Karin. i like the first, i like them both. the repetition works in the second, but i think i like the lack of it up above. still, crickets in the brain, lithe fields… all of it paints quite a picture of truthy goodness, and a bit of confessional. very nice!
August 29, 2014 at 9:35 am
The first is sharp, neatly ironic and quite coherent even though it is so brief, but the second is my favorite–an amazing, lucid poem of looking inside oneself and sorting things out, not too much, just enough to see what’s there, just enough so the clutter is comfortable and the shadows are held at bay. Beautiful.
August 29, 2014 at 10:59 am
I love both of these!
August 29, 2014 at 12:43 pm
Two great poems that serve as inspiration for more poetry. For me the first just begs me to take it and run with it: “I’d like to be….”
August 30, 2014 at 11:33 am
different hues of a similar flavor. I was promptly reminded of the term ‘crickets’ – for the absence of response or applause – and how those scampering scamps make themselves absent. ~