The Blue Etcetera
My friends think they’ll read my poems
one day and I think that’s as likely as
a bear eating Boy Scout Troop 8-0-8,
they think my mental pursuits are like
having someone else move the furniture
from floor to floor., who can blame them?
They think I don’t know how to screw
a screw into a pine board or an adjective
into a noun and give me attributes
I’d rather not have. They think I’m listening
to birds when I’m listening to poems
and when I write about making love,
to them it’s just another blue etcetera.
My friends think I’m a line short of a sonnet
9 thoughts on "The Blue Etcetera"
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Or many lines more, to the next sonnet, the next poetic form…I have faith in your poetic mind and engine
Thank you Tania
Damn that’s a fine poem, Jim. My favorite: “don’t know how to screw / a screw into a pine board or an adjective/
into a noun.” I’ve got more than a few folks like them in my life, too.
I love it that you leave the period out at the end to show you are not ending the sonnet. I love “they think I’m listening to birds when I’m listening to poems.” Wonderful!
What a great description of what it feels like to express it to those half-initiated in the wonder that is this art in its weirdnesses: “They think I’m listening/to birds when I’m listening to poems”
&
“to them it’s just another blue etcetera.”
Thanks Shawn & Linda & Bill
to all the hobbled sonnets! and blue-blue valentines.. 🙂
i raise my glass to you…. etc.
I love this! Probably relatable for all of us!
Love that ending!