I have never thought of myself as a poet. In school we were forced to read, write, memorize, and recite poetry. I never felt comfortable with it. There always seemed to be too many rules, rhyme, meter, flow. I was not that interested in writing back then, mostly sports and girls.
Last week during my writer’s group meeting we were asked to write a Haiku. After it was explained to me, I gave it a whirl. My kind of poetry, short sweet and to the point. But still, not something I felt compelled to do on a regular basis. Then something strange happened.
A few days ago, I the following piece just seemed to flow into my head. It’s the first poetry I have written in thirty-five plus years.
Souls stand on a concrete pond
The pond poured into perfect four-foot squares
A dual river of steel runs through it from horizon to horizon
The thunder rolls
Light and bells ring in its coming
Out of the morning mist the steel serpent slithers
Following the river, it seeks to find the waiting souls
The thunder rolls
The steel serpent screeches as steel crushes steel
It stops as if looking to feed. Its many maws open wide.
The souls rush into its body as it hisses and breathes
The thunder rolls
Finally sated, the steel serpent shutters.
Sluggishly, as if too full to move it begins to slither forward.
It gains speed as it leaves the concrete pond and rushes toward the horizon.
And the thunder rolls.
You never know where or when an idea will hit you. Just be open to what the world has to offer. Have a beautiful week.
Tales From The Hare 