Monday, August 17, 2009

Not My Talent

If I were a poet I'd write something today about DC in late August, hot and humid and quiet. I would use the word "simmering" - maybe even "sultry" to make a word picture of this city right now.

I would put some great words together to describe the empty streets, the dry rustling sound of the grass underfoot. I would talk about the leaf canopy, dry and droopy but still hanging in there. I would include at least a line in my poem describing the smell of August, like paper slightly burnt.

I would talk about the declining light and the sense of fall, not quite palpable in the heat but there, nevertheless, just out of reach. I would talk about August as DC's annual meditation, make clever references to the Capitol as a head (that's what Capitol means, you know). Because Congress is in recess, and even though people are still hard at work, it is a little bit more quiet in the Capitol than usual, so indeed the head of our government is meditating - kind of.

Too bad I'm not a poet, isn't it? If I were John at Robert Frost's Banjo, or Willow at Willow Manor, or Poetikat, Meri, Sandra, Steven or any of a number of other poet-bloggers, this post would be so good! Oh well, such is life. At least the pics are evocative of peaceful meditation, aren't they?

In a treatment room where I receive massage.


Anonymous said...

I think your post today was very poetic! Your descriptions were wonderful. I love the word sultry, I use it often! August smells like paper slighty burnt...interesting! Now I'm going over to the fireplace to slightly burn a piece of paper so I can smell August in DC!!!

Dan Gurney said...

I agree with Rain. Your "prose" is poetic. Maybe just hit the return key more often and voila: poetry. Whatever. Prose or poetry your writing is worth reading.

And nobody uses the camera like you do. I love your photos.

Cyndy said...

Yes, your photography is also quite poetic!

mum said...

keep on truckin' is right. Personally, I love poetry and can't live without it. But the writing end of it? I don't have it in me. c'est la vie.

cheers, Reya.

Mrsupole said...

Hi Reya,

I hope that this poem works for what you wanted to convey. I just had to be a little naughty with it too. The pictures are great as usual.

God bless.

The Captial in August.......

Whispers that are heard by many in the halls.
Hopeful feelings, running rampant about the coming coolness of fall.
Humid days that do not end, skin shimmering with sweat,
I pull my blouse away from my skin, to fan myself cause it is all wet.

I look up to see his sultry stare at me,
I quickly look down, I don't want him to see,
The look of longing on my face,
I want his job, I want to take his place.

He has no idea how hard I worked to get this job in the Captial at last,
I want to forget things I had done in the past.
My savior was going to my meditation class at the end of each day,
To learn that the head was not in control of God's way.

I keep working and stealing glances, every now and then,
Only to see that he knows I am doing this, he knows when.
He knows that it will soon be darker outside,
And I am afraid of the riffraff that lurks and can hide.

I stop working and look at the trees out the windows,
They look so withered and the sagging leaves are now leaving a shadow.
Soon it will be time to go, the halls empty of the powerful in their minds,
I will search and find that we are the ones left behind.

Our work never ends, for there is so much that we must do.
We are conscious of that fact that we truly work for you.
When the others return the halls will be quite loud with sound,
For many will be searching for them, and some will not be found.

This is what keeps me going in this August heat,
The thrill of our government cannot be beat.
Here he comes to walk me to my car.
I will soon have his job, that day is not so far.

I tidy my desk while he stands there patiently waiting.
We walk to my car, around us smells of August wafting.
He gives me a kiss on the cheek and climbs into his car.
He follows me to our home, we do not live very far.

Meri said...

Ok - I'm laughing! I just talked about you as one of the poetical wordsmiths (albeit in prose) who use words like the Creator hangs stars in the sky. And how I'm running short of inspirational words and need to borrow some. This is too funny.

Alicia @ boylerpf said...

Well I agree with the others! Your words certainly are evocative of the Washington scene even though they aren't written in prose form...still poetry none the less!

Tom said...

Maybe you aren't a poet, but the verse in your prose is hypnotic and + images = the cosmology of Reya.

John Hayes said...

Beautifully done--I like the "smell of burnt paper" especially. & I love how the Capitol & the Buddha's head "speak to each other."

Thanks for your compliment, but you're doing great!

ellen abbott said...

Poet or not, you did a damn fine job. And I prefer prose anyway.

Elizabeth said...

I do not want to hear that fall is coming.
It is perfectly possible to be a poet without doing the poetic 'form' you know.
I have a little plan.
Will write more later.........

Elizabeth said...

as the light declines
these sultry late August days
the capitol meditates
the city’s humid and quiet

near emptied streets
beneath the leaves’ canopy
dry grass rustles and
the air smells of paper
slightly burnt

fall almost palpable
beneath the simmering heat

hee hee
your words
my scissors

Deborah said...

you ARE a poet

much love

Liza Ursu said...

The photo of the buddha really captivated me. The colour is so rich. I love it.
As I read your words in the last paragraph I thought to myself, too bad I'm not a writer, like Reya.

The Bug said...

Elizabeth & Dan nailed it - you just need to hit return a few more times (that's what I do)...

Peaches said...

your imagery is spot on

Reya Mellicker said...

I love the idea of hitting the return key more often. But really it's not that easy.

Liza I wish I had included your name in the original post. Your poems are so powerful and right on the money!

Tom I did a doodle today, then wrote next to it: Looks like one of Tom's, except his would have some cool poem attached. I'll send you a pic of the image.

Meri: LOVE being on your wavelength sister!

Mrsupole thank you! I thought about you, too, when I wrote the post this morning.

I could go on ... maybe it's not necesssary.

Celestite said...

you do ok ;-)

Liza Ursu said...

Thank you Reya.

Barbara Martin said...

The prose you wrote today, Reya, is very poetic. Don't sell yourself short. Your creative artistry shines through in the lovely photos you posted.

willow said...

Oh, but you are ever so poetic, daaaaling! It doesn't have to be in the form of poetry to be poetic.

I love what Elizabeth did with your words. Case in point.

Ronda Laveen said...

Sounds very poetic to me too! The pictures is amazing. Just like the hot colors left of the surviving summer flowers.

Nancy said...

Yes, very nice. I love the photos.

I can feel Fall hiding behind the heat, waiting for it's turn.

NanU said...

Ah, August. The heat, the humidity, the world on vacation. That's what relaxes me - when everybody else goes away!

Great post.

Lynne said...

Reya, forgive me if I am repeating what other have said as I have not read your comments on this post.

But, you are truly a poet in your own right.

Pauline said...

This was very nearly a prose poem. A few word rearrangements and you'd have a free verse. Poetry is an aspect of the spirit - you've got it both in thought and your artist's eye with a camera.

Barry said...

Pictures (especially yours) certainly are.

And your prose today is as close to real poetry as I've ever seen.

Reya Mellicker said...

Y'all are so nice!

Poetry scares me. When I read good poetry I am in a state of almost rapture. Bad poetry gives me the giggles. It seems so high stakes to me, but thank you!

steven said...

i was away yesterday reya and so wasn't here to read this in the time it emerged but had i been i would have told you this:
i thank god there is a reya here. i thank god that reya's not another steven - there's one . . . that's good enough! feel the love girl - you're a gift in yourself. your words, your photographs, your presence inside this place have cast light on so many shadows for me, i've seen inside places and ideas that had been murky, or at best, intuitions without form. it's in the way you frame your knowing that i feel compelled to visit and see and read. however you write - it's filled with amazing insights and has become a part of my journey. i know that for sure. so write and photograph and share, explain, describe, unpack exactly as the cosmology of reya demands or chooses to do!!! just be!! thanks!!!! steven

starryeyed said...

Love you Reya.

Hang in there.

Hugs in a few days.