My Poetic Magnum Opus
I'm a reasonably good writer. I'll never win a Pulitzer Prize or even publish a book that others will want to read for pleasure or great insight, but I can put ideas on paper (or e-paper) in a way that communicates, flows, and sometimes entertains. Occasionally, my words can even evoke a level of feeling!
Because my feelings are mild and usually under subjection, my words often don't resonate deeply. So - you might imagine that poetry is well beyond my reach. I frequently fail to understand the poetry of others; and, I have discovered that failing is precisely because I am trying to understand the poetry instead of letting it evoke some sort of feeling.
Consequently, I haven't written much poetry. I tried my hand at one when I proposed to my wife. She kept it, so she at least appreciated the attempt. Other than that, attempts have been scarce, at best. So, this old piece of poetry that I was required to write in school as a child - is of great value due to its rarity if not quality. I don't know the exact date of writing it - but I was somewhere between 11 and 13 years of age.
The assignment was simple. "Write a rhyming poem and illustrate it. We will do something special with it when everyone is done."
When we were done, we tore around the edges of the paper and charred them with a lighter. We then glued and shellacked it to a board to make a plaque or wall hanging. The finished product is pictured above.
As I child, I fully believed I had failed at the assignment. I struggled just to find words to rhyme. I wasn't particularly good at drawing. What can I even write about? I had guitar lessons this weekend - can I find things that will rhyme with guitar? Yeah! "Tar" rhymes with it. I think I can draw a guitar. Problem solved. Let's see:
The Guitar
I once had a guitar,
and droped (sic) it in tar.
It looked very bad,
and I got so mad.
But still that was the end of the guitar.
I enjoyed the guitar lessons at the time - but I wasn't progressing. I practiced, but I didn't seem to be improving. I now believe, as I married a musical person and raised two children who learned to play instruments well, that I have both a limit in my musical hearing and I struggle at memorization of any kind. For my musical hearing limitation, I thought in terms of a melody - not chords and a beat. Anyway - I was entering a love/hate relationship with my guitar. That relationship shows in the poem.
How early I began my go-to loss management style!
I lost something.
I felt the loss.
Feeling it doesn't change the situation.
Let's move on.
On the back of the plaque are impressions of another childhood action. I think I was 12 when I got a pocketknife as a Christmas gift. It had an awl as one the blades. I drilled a hole in the upper right-hand corner of the plaque with that awl. I also stabbed the back of the board many, many times. I did it so many times and so hard that the tip of the knife blade is slightly bent to this very day. I think there was any specific rage associated with the stabbing - but it was certainly a bit of my boyhood violence preserved in wood.
I need to blog. For today, what should I log? I have this old plaque - what else do I lack? Just something to get out of this fog!
No comments:
Post a Comment