Looking for the Beautiful for d’Verse

It’s a bummer to complain,

especially in poetry’s domain,

where folks want to be lifted high,

helped to loving  and to aspire

to transcendent nature and the rest

and bring out what in us is best.

But can one pretend that one is jolly

When all they can see is melancholy?

O turn your face to look at nature

and from its gifts select the pure.

Give up. for now, in finding love

and beauty in mankind’s trove,

for greed and sickly human pride

are rampant now and ride the tide.

 

 

About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
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11 Responses to Looking for the Beautiful for d’Verse

  1. lynn__ says:

    Human greed and sickly pride are enough to make us all melancholy, Nan.

    Like

  2. I think poetry can express all emotions… and there are man reasons to be sad.

    Like

  3. kim881 says:

    We all have those days when everything seems to be going wrong and we can’t pretend to be jolly. My husband’s been like that for years and it’s rubbing off on me too!

    Like

  4. Nan Mykel says:

    Sounds like he’s dragging you down. That isn’t good. hanks for your response, Kim!

    Like

  5. Waltermarks says:

    I guess we just have to take some pepto head off in a new train of thought. I like your reference to nature. There’s always something good to admire there

    Like

  6. Frank Hubeny says:

    Nice sound with the end rhymes.

    Like

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